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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +[Italics are indicatedby underscores +James Rusk, jrusk@cyberramp.net.] + + + + + +MAN AND WIFE + +by Wilkie Collins + + + + +PROLOGUE.--THE IRISH MARRIAGE. + + + +Part the First. + + + +THE VILLA AT HAMPSTEAD. + +I. + +ON a summer's morning, between thirty and forty years ago, two +girls were crying bitterly in the cabin of an East Indian +passenger ship, bound outward, from Gravesend to Bombay. + +They were both of the same age--eighteen. They had both, from +childhood upward, been close and dear friends at the same school. +They were now parting for the first time--and parting, it might +be, for life. + +The name of one was Blanche. The name of the other was Anne. + +Both were the children of poor parents, both had been +pupil-teachers at the school; and both were destined to earn +their own bread. Personally speaking, and socially speaking, +these were the only points of resemblance between them. + +Blanche was passably attractive and passably intelligent, and no +more. Anne was rarely beautiful and rarely endowed. Blanche's +parents were worthy people, whose first consideration was to +secure, at any sacrifice, the future well-being of their child. +Anne's parents were heartless and depraved. Their one idea, in +connection with their daughter, was to speculate on her beauty, +and to turn her abilities to profitable account. + +The girls were starting in life under widely different +conditions. Blanche was going to India, to be governess in the +household of a Judge, under care of the Judge's wife. Anne was to +wait at home until the first opportunity offered of sending her +cheaply to Milan. There, among strangers, she was to be perfected +in the actress's and the singer's art; then to return to England, +and make the fortune of her family on the lyric stage. + +Such were the prospects of the two as they sat together in the +cabin of the Indiaman locked fast in each other's arms, and +crying bitterly. The whispered farewell talk exchanged between +them--exaggerated and impulsive as girls' talk is apt to be--came +honestly, in each case, straight from the heart. + +"Blanche! you may be married in India. Make your husband bring +you back to England." + +"Anne! you may take a dislike to the stage. Come out to India if +you do." + +"In England or out of England, married or not married, we will +meet, darling--if it's years hence--with all the old love between +us; friends who help each other, sisters who trust each other, +for life! Vow it, Blanche!" + +"I vow it, Anne!" + +"With all your heart and soul?" + +"With all my heart and soul!" + +The sails were spread to the wind, and the ship began to move in +the water. It was necessary to appeal to the captain's authority +before the girls could be parted. The captain interfered gently +and firmly. "Come, my dear," he said, putting his arm round Anne; +"you won't mind _me!_ I have got a daughter of my own." Anne's +head fell on the sailor's shoulder. He put her, with his own +hands, into the shore-boat alongside. In five minutes more the +ship had gathered way; the boat was at the landing-stage--and the +girls had seen the last of each other for many a long year to +come. + +This was in the summer of eighteen hundred and thirty-one. + +II. + +Twenty-four years later--in the summer of eighteen hundred and +fifty-five--there was a villa at Hampstead to be let, furnished. + +The house was still occupied by the persons who desired to let +it. On the evening on which this scene opens a lady and two +gentlemen were seated at the dinner-table. The lady had reached +the mature age of forty-two. She was still a rarely beautiful +woman. Her husband, some years younger than herself, faced her at +the table, sitting silent and constrained, and never, even by +accident, looking at his wife. The third person was a guest. The +husband's name was Vanborough. The guest's name was Kendrew. + +It was the end of the dinner. The fruit and the wine were on the +table. Mr. Vanborough pushed the bottles in silence to Mr. +Kendrew. The lady of the house looked round at the servant who +was waiting, and said, "Tell the children to come in." + +The door opened, and a girl twelve years old entered, lending by +the hand a younger girl of five. They were both prettily dressed +in white, with sashes of the same shade of light blue. But there +was no family resemblance between them. The elder girl was frail +and delicate, with a pale, sensitive face. The younger was light +and florid, with round red cheeks and bright, saucy eyes--a +charming little picture of happiness and health. + +Mr. Kendrew looked inquiringly at the youngest of the two girls. + +"Here is a young lady," he said, "who is a total stranger to me." + +"If you had not been a total stranger yourself for a whole year +past," answered Mrs. Vanborough, "you would never have made that +confession. This is little Blanche--the only child of the dearest +friend I have. When Blanche's mother and I last saw each other we +were two poor school-girls beginning the world. My friend went to +India, and married there late in life. You may have heard of her +husband--the famous Indian officer, Sir Thomas Lundie? Yes: 'the +rich Sir Thomas,' as you call him. Lady Lundie is now on her way +back to England, for the first time since she left it--I am +afraid to say how many years since. I expected her yesterday; I +expect her to-day--she may come at any moment. We exchanged +promises to meet, in the ship that took her to India--'vows' we +called them in the dear old times. Imagine how changed we shall +find each other when we _do_ meet again at last!" + +"In the mean time," said Mr. Kendrew, "your friend appears to +have sent you her little daughter to represent her? It's a long +journey for so young a traveler." + +"A journey ordered by the doctors in India a year since," +rejoined Mrs. Vanborough. "They said Blanche's health required +English air. Sir Thomas was ill at the time, and his wife +couldn't leave him. She had to send the child to England, and who +should she send her to but me? Look at her now, and say if the +English air hasn't agreed with her! We two mothers, Mr. Kendrew, +seem literally to live again in our children. I have an only +child. My friend has an only child. My daughter is little +Anne--as _I_ was. My friend's daughter is little Blanche--as +_she_ was. And, to crown it all, those two girls have taken the +same fancy to each other which we took to each other in the +by-gone days at school. One has often heard of hereditary hatred. +Is there such a thing as hereditary love as well?" + +Before the guest could answer, his attention was claimed by the +master of the house. + +"Kendrew," said Mr. Vanborough, "when you have had enough of +domestic sentiment, suppose you take a glass of wine?" + +The words were spoken with undisguised contempt of tone and +manner. Mrs. Vanborough's color rose. She waited, and controlled +the momentary irritation. When she spoke to her husband it was +evidently with a wish to soothe and conciliate him. + +"I am afraid, my dear, you are not well this evening?" + +"I shall be better when those children have done clattering with +their knives and forks." + +The girls were peeling fruit. The younger one went on. The elder +stopped, and looked at her mother. Mrs. Vanborough beckoned to +Blanche to come to her, and pointed toward the French window +opening to the floor. + +"Would you like to eat your fruit in the garden, Blanche?" + +"Yes," said Blanche, "if Anne will go with me." + +Anne rose at once, and the two girls went away together into the +garden, hand in hand. On their departure Mr. Kendrew wisely +started a new subject. He referred to the letting of the house. + +"The loss of the garden will be a sad loss to those two young +ladies," he said. "It really seems to be a pity that you should +be giving up this pretty place." + +"Leaving the house is not the worst of the sacrifice," answered +Mrs. Vanborough. "If John finds Hampstead too far for him from +London, of course we must move. The only hardship that I complain +of is the hardship of having the house to let." + +Mr. Vanborough looked across the table, as ungraciously as +possible, at his wife. + +"What have _you_ to do with it?" he asked. + +Mrs. Vanborough tried to clear the conjugal horizon b y a smile. + +"My dear John," she said, gently, "you forget that, while you are +at business, I am here all day. I can't help seeing the people +who come to look at the house. Such people!" she continued, +turning to Mr. Kendrew. "They distrust every thing, from the +scraper at the door to the chimneys on the roof. They force their +way in at all hours. They ask all sorts of impudent +questions--and they show you plainly that they don't mean to +believe your answers, before you have time to make them. Some +wretch of a woman says, 'Do you think the drains are right?'--and +sniffs suspiciously, before I can say Yes. Some brute of a man +asks, 'Are you quite sure this house is solidly built, +ma'am?'--and jumps on the floor at the full stretch of his legs, +without waiting for me to reply. Nobody believes in our gravel +soil and our south aspect. Nobody wants any of our improvements. +The moment they hear of John's Artesian well, they look as if +they never drank water. And, if they happen to pass my +poultry-yard, they instantly lose all appreciation of the merits +of a fresh egg!" + +Mr. Kendrew laughed. "I have been through it all in my time," he +said. "The people who want to take a house are the born enemies +of the people who want to let a house. Odd--isn't it, +Vanborough?" + +Mr. Vanborough's sullen humor resisted his friend as obstinately +as it had resisted his wife. + +"I dare say," he answered. "I wasn't listening." + +This time the tone was almost brutal. Mrs. Vanborough looked at +her husband with unconcealed surprise and distress. + +"John!" she said. "What _can_ be the matter with you? Are you in +pain?" + +"A man may be anxious and worried, I suppose, without being +actually in pain." + +"I am sorry to hear you are worried. Is it business?" + +"Yes--business." + +"Consult Mr. Kendrew." + +"I am waiting to consult him." + +Mrs. Vanborough rose immediately. "Ring, dear," she said, "when +you want coffee." As she passed her husband she stopped and laid +her hand tenderly on his forehead. "I wish I could smooth out +that frown!" she whispered. Mr. Vanborough impatiently shook his +head. Mrs. Vanborough sighed as she turned to the door. Her +husband called to her before she could leave the room. + +"Mind we are not interrupted!" + +"I will do my best, John." She looked at Mr. Kendrew, holding the +door open for her; and resumed, with an effort, her former +lightness of tone. "But don't forget our 'born enemies!' Somebody +may come, even at this hour of the evening, who wants to see the +house." + +The two gentlemen were left alone over their wine. There was a +strong personal contrast between them. Mr. Vanborough was tall +and dark--a dashing, handsome man; with an energy in his face +which all the world saw; with an inbred falseness under it which +only a special observer could detect. Mr. Kendrew was short and +light--slow and awkward in manner, except when something happened +to rouse him. Looking in _his_ face, the world saw an ugly and +undemonstrative little man. The special observer, penetrating +under the surface, found a fine nature beneath, resting on a +steady foundation of honor and truth. + +Mr. Vanborough opened the conversation. + +"If you ever marry," he said, "don't be such a fool, Kendrew, as +I have been. Don't take a wife from the stage." + +"If I could get such a wife as yours," replied the other, "I +would take her from the stage to-morrow. A beautiful woman, a +clever woman, a woman of unblemished character, and a woman who +truly loves you. Man alive! what do you want more?" + +"I want a great deal more. I want a woman highly connected and +highly bred--a woman who can receive the best society in England, +and open her husband's way to a position in the world." + +"A position in the world!" cried Mr. Kendrew. "Here is a man +whose father has left him half a million of money--with the one +condition annexed to it of taking his father's place at the head +of one of the greatest mercantile houses in England. And he talks +about a position, as if he was a junior clerk in his own office! +What on earth does your ambition see, beyond what your ambition +has already got?" + +Mr. Vanborough finished his glass of wine, and looked his friend +steadily in the face. + +"My ambition," he said, "sees a Parliamentary career, with a +Peerage at the end of it--and with no obstacle in the way but my +estimable wife." + +Mr. Kendrew lifted his hand warningly. "Don't talk in that way," +he said. "If you're joking--it's a joke I don't see. If you're in +earnest--you force a suspicion on me which I would rather not +feel. Let us change the subject." + +"No! Let us have it out at once. What do you suspect?" + +"I suspect you are getting tired of your wife." + +"She is forty-two, and I am thirty-five; and I have been married +to her for thirteen years. You know all that--and you only +suspect I am tired of her. Bless your innocence! Have you any +thing more to say?" + +"If you force me to it, I take the freedom of an old friend, and +I say you are not treating her fairly. It's nearly two years +since you broke up your establishment abroad, and came to England +on your father's death. With the exception of myself, and one or +two other friends of former days, you have presented your wife to +nobody. Your new position has smoothed the way for you into the +best society. You never take your wife with you. You go out as if +you were a single man. I have reason to know that you are +actually believed to be a single man, among these new +acquaintances of yours, in more than one quarter. Forgive me for +speaking my mind bluntly--I say what I think. It's unworthy of +you to keep your wife buried here, as if you were ashamed of +her." + +"I _am_ ashamed of her." + +"Vanborough!" + +"Wait a little! you are not to have it all your own way, my good +fellow. What are the facts? Thirteen years ago I fell in love +with a handsome public singer, and married her. My father was +angry with me; and I had to go and live with her abroad. It +didn't matter, abroad. My father forgave me on his death-bed, and +I had to bring her home again. It does matter, at home. I find +myself, with a great career opening before me, tied to a woman +whose relations are (as you well know) the lowest of the low. A +woman without the slightest distinction of manner, or the +slightest aspiration beyond her nursery and her kitchen, her +piano and her books. Is _that_ a wife who can help me to make my +place in society?--who can smooth my way through social obstacles +and political obstacles, to the House of Lords? By Jupiter! if +ever there was a woman to be 'buried' (as you call it), that +woman is my wife. And, what's more, if you want the truth, it's +because I _can't_ bury her here that I'm going to leave this +house. She has got a cursed knack of making acquaintances +wherever she goes. She'll have a circle of friends about her if I +leave her in this neighborhood much longer. Friends who remember +her as the famous opera-singer. Friends who will see her +swindling scoundrel of a father (when my back is turned) coming +drunk to the door to borrow money of her! I tell you, my marriage +has wrecked my prospects. It's no use talking to me of my wife's +virtues. She is a millstone round my neck, with all her virtues. +If I had not been a born idiot I should have waited, and married +a woman who would have been of some use to me; a woman with high +connections--" + +Mr. Kendrew touched his host's arm, and suddenly interrupted him. + +"To come to the point," he said--"a woman like Lady Jane +Parnell." + +Mr. Vanborough started. His eyes fell, for the first time, before +the eyes of his friend. + +"What do you know about Lady Jane?" he asked. + +"Nothing. I don't move in Lady Jane's world--but I do go +sometimes to the opera. I saw you with her last night in her box; +and I heard what was said in the stalls near me. You were openly +spoken of as the favored man who was singled out from the rest by +Lady Jane. Imagine what would happen if your wife heard that! You +are wrong, Vanborough--you are in every way wrong. You alarm, you +distress, you disappoint me. I never sought this explanation--but +now it has come, I won't shrink from it. Reconsider your conduct; +reconsider what you have said to me--or you count me no longer +among your friends. No! I + want no farther talk about it now. We are both getting hot--we +may end in saying what had better have been left unsaid. Once +more, let us change the subject. You wrote me word that you +wanted me here to-day, because you needed my advice on a matter +of some importance. What is it?" + +Silence followed that question. Mr. Vanborough's face betrayed +signs of embarrassment. He poured himself out another glass of +wine, and drank it at a draught before he replied. + +"It's not so easy to tell you what I want," he said, "after the +tone you have taken with me about my wife." + +Mr. Kendrew looked surprised. + +"Is Mrs. Vanborough concerned in the matter?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Does she know about it?" + +"No." + +"Have you kept the thing a secret out of regard for _her?_" + +"Yes." + +"Have I any right to advise on it?" + +"You have the right of an old friend." + +"Then, why not tell me frankly what it is?" + +There was another moment of embarrassment on Mr. Vanborough's +part. + +"It will come better," he answered, "from a third person, whom I +expect here every minute. He is in possession of all the +facts--and he is better able to state them than I am." + +"Who is the person?" + +"My friend, Delamayn." + +"Your lawyer?" + +"Yes--the junior partner in the firm of Delamayn, Hawke, and +Delamayn. Do you know him?" + +"I am acquainted with him. His wife's family were friends of mine +before he married. I don't like him." + +"You're rather hard to please to-day! Delamayn is a rising man, +if ever there was one yet. A man with a career before him, and +with courage enough to pursue it. He is going to leave the Firm, +and try his luck at the Bar. Every body says he will do great +things. What's your objection to him?" + +"I have no objection whatever. We meet with people occasionally +whom we dislike without knowing why. Without knowing why, I +dislike Mr. Delamayn." + +"Whatever you do you must put up with him this evening. He will +be here directly." + +He was there at that moment. The servant opened the door, and +announced--"Mr. Delamayn." + +III. + +Externally speaking, the rising solicitor, who was going to try +his luck at the Bar, looked like a man who was going to succeed. +His hard, hairless face, his watchful gray eyes, his thin, +resolute lips, said plainly, in so many words, "I mean to get on +in the world; and, if you are in my way, I mean to get on at your +expense." Mr. Delamayn was habitually polite to every body--but +he had never been known to say one unnecessary word to his +dearest friend. A man of rare ability; a man of unblemished honor +(as the code of the world goes); but not a man to be taken +familiarly by the hand. You would never have borrowed money of +him--but you would have trusted him with untold gold. Involved in +private and personal troubles, you would have hesitated at asking +him to help you. Involved in public and producible troubles, you +would have said, Here is my man. Sure to push his way--nobody +could look at him and doubt it--sure to push his way. + +"Kendrew is an old friend of mine," said Mr. Vanborough, +addressing himself to the lawyer. "Whatever you have to say to +_me_ you may say before _him._ Will you have some wine?" + +"No--thank you." + +"Have you brought any news?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you got the written opinions of the two barristers?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"'Because nothing of the sort is necessary. If the facts of the +case are correctly stated there is not the slightest doubt about +the law." + +With that reply Mr. Delamayn took a written paper from his +pocket, and spread it out on the table before him. + +"What is that?" asked Mr. Vanborough. + +"The case relating to your marriage." + +Mr. Kendrew started, and showed the first tokens of interest in +the proceedings which had escaped him yet. Mr. Delamayn looked at +him for a moment, and went on. + +"The case," he resumed, "as originally stated by you, and taken +down in writing by our head-clerk." + +Mr. Vanborough's temper began to show itself again. + +"What have we got to do with that now?" he asked. "You have made +your inquiries to prove the correctness of my statement--haven't +you?" + +"Yes." + +"And you have found out that I am right?" + +"I have found out that you are right--if the case is right. I +wish to be sure that no mistake has occurred between you and the +clerk. This is a very important matter. I am going to take the +responsibility of giving an opinion which may be followed by +serious consequences; and I mean to assure myself that the +opinion is given on a sound basis, first. I have some questions +to ask you. Don't be impatient, if you please. They won't take +long." + +He referred to the manuscript, and put the first question. + +"You were married at Inchmallock, in Ireland, Mr. Vanborough, +thirteen years since?" + +"Yes." + +"Your wife--then Miss Anne Silvester--was a Roman Catholic?" + +"Yes." + +"Her father and mother were Roman Catholics?" + +"They were." + +"_Your_ father and mother were Protestants? and _you_ were +baptized and brought up in the Church of England?" + +"All right!" + +"Miss Anne Silvester felt, and expressed, a strong repugnance to +marrying you, because you and she belonged to different religious +communities?" + +"She did." + +"You got over her objection by consenting to become n Roman +Catholic, like herself?" + +"It was the shortest way with her and it didn't matter to _me_." + +"You were formally received into the Roman Catholic Church?" + +"I went through the whole ceremony." + +"Abroad or at home?" + +"Abroad." + +"How long was it before the date of your marriage?" + +"Six weeks before I was married." + +Referring perpetually to the paper in his hand, Mr. Delamayn was +especially careful in comparing that last answer with the answer +given to the head-clerk. + +"Quite right," he said, and went on with his questions. + +"The priest who married you was one Ambrose Redman--a young man +recently appointed to his clerical duties?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he ask if you were both Roman Catholics?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he ask any thing more?" + +"No." + +"Are you sure he never inquired whether you had both been +Catholics _for more than one year before you came to him to be +married?_" + +"I am certain of it." + +"He must have forgotten that part of his duty--or being only a +beginner, he may well have been ignorant of it altogether. Did +neither you nor the lady think of informing him on the point?" + +"Neither I nor the lady knew there was any necessity for +informing him." + +Mr. Delamayn folded up the manuscript, and put it back in his +pocket. + +"Right," he said, "in every particular." + +Mr. Vanborough's swarthy complexion slowly turned pale. He cast +one furtive glance at Mr. Kendrew, and turned away again. + +"Well," he said to the lawyer, "now for your opinion! What is the +law?" + +"The law," answered Mr. Delamayn, "is beyond all doubt or +dispute. Your marriage with Miss Anne Silvester is no marriage at +all." + +Mr. Kendrew started to his feet. + +"What do you mean?" he asked, sternly. + +The rising solicitor lifted his eyebrows in polite surprise. If +Mr. Kendrew wanted information, why should Mr. Kendrew ask for it +in that way? "Do you wish me to go into the law of the case?" he +inquired. + +"I do." + +Mr. Delamayn stated the law, as that law still stands--to the +disgrace of the English Legislature and the English Nation. + +"By the Irish Statute of George the Second," he said, "every +marriage celebrated by a Popish priest between two Protestants, +or between a Papist and any person who has been a Protestant +within twelve months before the marriage, is declared null and +void. And by two other Acts of the same reign such a celebration +of marriage is made a felony on the part of the priest. The +clergy in Ireland of other religious denominations have been +relieved from this law. But it still remains in force so far as +the Roman Catholic priesthood is concerned." + +"Is such a state of things possible in the age we live in!" +exclaimed Mr. Kendrew. + +Mr. Delamayn smiled. He had outgrown the customary illusions as +to the age we live in. + +"There are other instances in which the Irish marriage-law +presents some curious anomalies of its own," he went on. "It is +felony, as I have just told you, for a Roman Catholic priest to +celebrate a marriage which may be lawfully celebrated by a +parochial clergyman, a Presbyterian mini ster, and a +Non-conformist minister. It is also felony (by another law) on +the part of a parochial clergyman to celebrate a marriage that +may be lawfully celebrated by a Roman Catholic priest. And it is +again felony (by yet another law) for a Presbyterian minister and +a Non-conformist minister to celebrate a marriage which may be +lawfully celebrated by a clergyman of the Established Church. An +odd state of things. Foreigners might possibly think it a +scandalous state of things. In this country we don't appear to +mind it. Returning to the present case, the results stand thus: +Mr. Vanborough is a single man; Mrs. Vanborough is a single +woman; their child is illegitimate, and the priest, Ambrose +Redman, is liable to be tried, and punished, as a felon, for +marrying them." + +"An infamous law!" said Mr. Kendrew. + +"It _is_ the law," returned Mr. Delamayn, as a sufficient answer +to him. + +Thus far not a word had escaped the master of the house. He sat +with his lips fast closed and his eyes riveted on the table, +thinking. + +Mr. Kendrew turned to him, and broke the silence. + +"Am I to understand," he asked, "that the advice you wanted from +me related to _this?_" + +"Yes." + +"You mean to tell me that, foreseeing the present interview and +the result to which it might lead, you felt any doubt as to the +course you were bound to take? Am I really to understand that you +hesitate to set this dreadful mistake right, and to make the +woman who is your wife in the sight of Heaven your wife in the +sight of the law?" + +"If you choose to put it in that light," said Mr. Vanborough; "if +you won't consider--" + +"I want a plain answer to my question--'yes, or no.' " + +"Let me speak, will you! A man has a right to explain himself, I +suppose?" + +Mr. Kendrew stopped him by a gesture of disgust. + +"I won't trouble you to explain yourself," he said. "I prefer to +leave the house. You have given me a lesson, Sir, which I shall +not forget. I find that one man may have known another from the +days when they were both boys, and may have seen nothing but the +false surface of him in all that time. I am ashamed of having +ever been your friend. You are a stranger to me from this +moment." + +With those words he left the room. + +"That is a curiously hot-headed man," remarked Mr. Delamayn. "If +you will allow me, I think I'll change my mind. I'll have a glass +of wine." + +Mr. Vanborough rose to his feet without replying, and took a turn +in the room impatiently. Scoundrel as he was--in intention, if +not yet in act--the loss of the oldest friend he had in the world +staggered him for the moment. + +"This is an awkward business, Delamayn," he said. "What would you +advise me to do?" + +Mr. Delamayn shook his head, and sipped his claret. + +"I decline to advise you," he answered. "I take no +responsibility, beyond the responsibility of stating the law as +it stands, in your case." + +Mr. Vanborough sat down again at the table, to consider the +alternative of asserting or not asserting his freedom from the +marriage tie. He had not had much time thus far for turning the +matter over in his mind. But for his residence on the Continent +the question of the flaw in his marriage might no doubt have been +raised long since. As things were, the question had only taken +its rise in a chance conversation with Mr. Delamayn in the summer +of that year. + +For some minutes the lawyer sat silent, sipping his wine, and the +husband sat silent, thinking his own thoughts. The first change +that came over the scene was produced by the appearance of a +servant in the dining-room. + +Mr. Vanborough looked up at the man with a sudden outbreak of +anger. + +"What do you want here?" + +The man was a well-bred English servant. In other words, a human +machine, doing its duty impenetrably when it was once wound up. +He had his words to speak, and he spoke them. + +"There is a lady at the door, Sir, who wishes to see the house." + +"The house is not to be seen at this time of the evening." + +The machine had a message to deliver, and delivered it. + +"The lady desired me to present her apologies, Sir. I was to tell +you she was much pressed for time. This was the last house on the +house agent's list, and her coachman is stupid about finding his +way in strange places." + +"Hold your tongue, and tell the lady to go to the devil!" + +Mr. Delamayn interfered--partly in the interests of his client, +partly in the interests of propriety. + +"You attach some importance, I think, to letting this house as +soon as possible?" he said. + +"Of course I do!" + +"Is it wise--on account of a momentary annoyance--to lose an +opportunity of laying your hand on a tenant?" + +"Wise or not, it's an infernal nuisance to be disturbed by a +stranger." + +"Just as you please. I don't wish to interfere. I only wish to +say--in case you are thinking of my convenience as your +guest--that it will be no nuisance to _me._" + +The servant impenetrably waited. Mr. Vanborough impatiently gave +way. + +"Very well. Let her in. Mind, if she comes here, she's only to +look into the room, and go out again. If she wants to ask +questions, she must go to the agent." + +Mr. Delamayn interfered once more, in the interests, this time, +of the lady of the house. + +"Might it not be desirable," he suggested, to consult Mrs. +Vanborough before you quite decide?" + +"Where's your mistress?" + +"In the garden, or the paddock, Sir--I am not sure which." + +"We can't send all over the grounds in search of her. Tell the +house-maid, and show the lady in." + +The servant withdrew. Mr. Delamayn helped himself to a second +glass of wine. + +"Excellent claret," he said. "Do you get it direct from +Bordeaux?" + +There was no answer. Mr. Vanborough had returned to the +contemplation of the alternative between freeing himself or not +freeing himself from the marriage tie. One of his elbows was on +the table, he bit fiercely at his finger-nails. He muttered +between his teeth, "What am I to do?" + +A sound of rustling silk made itself gently audible in the +passage outside. The door opened, and the lady who had come to +see the house appeared in the dining-room. + +IV. + +She was tall and elegant; beautifully dressed, in the happiest +combination of simplicity and splendor. A light summer veil hung +over her face. She lifted it, and made her apologies for +disturbing the gentlemen over their wine, with the unaffected +ease and grace of a highly-bred woman. + +"Pray accept my excuses for this intrusion. I am ashamed to +disturb you. One look at the room will be quite enough." + +Thus far she had addressed Mr. Delamayn, who happened to be +nearest to her. Looking round the room her eye fell on Mr. +Vanborough. She started, with a loud exclamation of astonishment. +_"You!"_ she said. "Good Heavens! who would have thought of +meeting _you_ here?" + +Mr. Vanborough, on his side, stood petrified. + +"Lady Jane!" he exclaimed. "Is it possible?" + +He barely looked at her while she spoke. His eyes wandered +guiltily toward the window which led into the garden. The +situation was a terrible one--equally terrible if his wife +discovered Lady Jane, or if Lady Jane discovered his wife. For +the moment nobody was visible on the lawn. There was time, if the +chance only offered--there was time for him to get the visitor +out of the house. The visitor, innocent of all knowledge of the +truth, gayly offered him her hand. + +"I believe in mesmerism for the first time," she said. "This is +an instance of magnetic sympathy, Mr. Vanborough. An invalid +friend of mine wants a furnished house at Hampstead. I undertake +to find one for her, and the day _I_ select to make the discovery +is the day _you_ select for dining with a friend. A last house at +Hampstead is left on my list--and in that house I meet you. +Astonishing!" She turned to Mr. Delamayn. "I presume I am +addressing the owner of the house?" Before a word could be said +by either of the gentlemen she noticed the garden. "What pretty +grounds! Do I see a lady in the garden? I hope I have not driven +her away." She looked round, and appealed to Mr. Vanborough. +"Your friend's wife?" she asked, and, on this occasion, waited +for a reply. + +In Mr. Vanborough's situation what reply was possible? + +Mrs. Vanborough was not only visible--but audible--in the garden; +giving her orders to one of the out-of-door servants with the +tone and manner which proclaimed the mistress of the house. +Suppose he said, "She is _not_ my friend's wife?" Female +curiosity would inevitably put the next question, "Who is she?" +Suppose he invented an explanation? The explanation would take +time, and time would give his wife an opportunity of discovering +Lady Jane. Seeing all these considerations in one breathless +moment, Mr. Vanborough took the shortest and the boldest way out +of the difficulty. He answered silently by an affirmative +inclination of the head, which dextrously turned Mrs. Vanborough +into to Mrs. Delamayn without allowing Mr. Delamayn the +opportunity of hearing it. + +But the lawyer's eye was habitually watchful, and the lawyer saw +him. + +Mastering in a moment his first natural astonishment at the +liberty taken with him, Mr. Delamayn drew the inevitable +conclusion that there was something wrong, and that there was an +attempt (not to be permitted for a moment) to mix him up in it. +He advanced, resolute to contradict his client, to his client's +own face. + +The voluble Lady Jane interrupted him before he could open his +lips. + +"Might I ask one question? Is the aspect south? Of course it is! +I ought to see by the sun that the aspect is south. These and the +other two are, I suppose, the only rooms on the ground-floor? And +is it quiet? Of course it's quiet! A charming house. Far more +likely to suit my friend than any I have seen yet. Will you give +me the refusal of it till to-morrow?" There she stopped for +breath, and gave Mr. Delamayn his first opportunity of speaking +to her. + +"I beg your ladyship's pardon," he began. "I really can't--" + +Mr. Vanborough--passing close behind him and whispering as he +passed--stopped the lawyer before he could say a word more. + +"For God's sake, don't contradict me! My wife is coming this +way!" + +At the same moment (still supposing that Mr. Delamayn was the +master of the house) Lady Jane returned to the charge. + +"You appear to feel some hesitation," she said. "Do you want a +reference?" She smiled satirically, and summoned her friend to +her aid. "Mr. Vanborough!" + +Mr. Vanborough, stealing step by step nearer to the +window--intent, come what might of it, on keeping his wife out of +the room--neither heeded nor heard her. Lady Jane followed him, +and tapped him briskly on the shoulder with her parasol. + +At that moment Mrs. Vanborough appeared on the garden side of the +window. + +"Am I in the way?" she asked, addressing her husband, after one +steady look at Lady Jane. "This lady appears to be an old friend +of yours." There was a tone of sarcasm in that allusion to the +parasol, which might develop into a tone of jealousy at a +moment's notice. + +Lady Jane was not in the least disconcerted. She had her double +privilege of familiarity with the men whom she liked--her +privilege as a woman of high rank, and her privilege as a young +widow. She bowed to Mrs. Vanborough, with all the highly-finished +politeness of the order to which she belonged. + +"The lady of the house, I presume?" she said, with a gracious +smile. + +Mrs. Vanborough returned the bow coldly--entered the room +first--and then answered, "Yes." + +Lady Jane turned to Mr. Vanborough. + +"Present me!" she said, submitting resignedly to the formalities +of the middle classes. + +Mr. Vanborough obeyed, without looking at his wife, and without +mentioning his wife's name. + +"Lady Jane Parnell," he said, passing over the introduction as +rapidly as possible. "Let me see you to your carriage," he added, +offering his arm. "I will take care that you have the refusal of +the house. You may trust it all to me." + +No! Lady Jane was accustomed to leave a favorable impression +behind her wherever she went. It was a habit with her to be +charming (in widely different ways) to both sexes. The social +experience of the upper classes is, in England, an experience of +universal welcome. Lady Jane declined to leave until she had +thawed the icy reception of the lady of the house. + +"I must repeat my apologies," she said to Mrs. Vanborough, "for +coming at this inconvenient time. My intrusion appears to have +sadly disturbed the two gentlemen. Mr. Vanborough looks as if he +wished me a hundred miles away. And as for your husband--" She +stopped and glanced toward Mr. Delamayn. "Pardon me for speaking +in that familiar way. I have not the pleasure of knowing your +husband's name." + +In speechless amazement Mrs. Vanborough's eyes followed the +direction of Lady Jane's eyes--and rested on the lawyer, +personally a total stranger to her. + +Mr. Delamayn, resolutely waiting his opportunity to speak, seized +it once more--and held it this time. + +"I beg your pardon," he said. "There is some misapprehension +here, for which I am in no way responsible. I am _not_ that +lady's husband." + +It was Lady Jane's turn to be astonished. She looked at the +lawyer. Useless! Mr. Delamayn had set himself right--Mr. Delamayn +declined to interfere further. He silently took a chair at the +other end of the room. Lady Jane addressed Mr. Vanborough. + +"Whatever the mistake may be," she said, "you are responsible for +it. You certainly told me this lady was your friend's wife." + +"What!!!" cried Mrs. Vanborough--loudly, sternly, incredulously. + +The inbred pride of the great lady began to appear behind the +thin outer veil of politeness that covered it. + +"I will speak louder if you wish it," she said. "Mr. Vanborough +told me you were that gentleman's wife." + +Mr. Vanborough whispered fiercely to his wife through his +clenched teeth. + +"The whole thing is a mistake. Go into the garden again!" + +Mrs. Vanborough's indignation was suspended for the moment in +dread, as she saw the passion and the terror struggling in her +husband's face. + +"How you look at me!" she said. "How you speak to me!" + +He only repeated, "Go into the garden!" + +Lady Jane began to perceive, what the lawyer had discovered some +minutes previously--that there was something wrong in the villa +at Hampstead. The lady of the house was a lady in an anomalous +position of some kind. And as the house, to all appearance, +belonged to Mr. Vanborough's friend, Mr. Vanborough's friend must +(in spite of his recent disclaimer) be in some way responsible +for it. Arriving, naturally enough, at this erroneous conclusion, +Lady Jane's eyes rested for an instant on Mrs. Vanborough with a +finely contemptuous expression of inquiry which would have roused +the spirit of the tamest woman in existence. The implied insult +stung the wife's sensitive nature to the quick. She turned once +more to her husband--this time without flinching. + +"Who is that woman?" she asked. + +Lady Jane was equal to the emergency. The manner in which she +wrapped herself up in her own virtue, without the slightest +pretension on the one hand, and without the slightest compromise +on the other, was a sight to see. + +"Mr. Vanborough," she said, "you offered to take me to my +carriage just now. I begin to understand that I had better have +accepted the offer at once. Give me your arm." + +"Stop!" said Mrs. Vanborough, "your ladyship's looks are looks of +contempt; your ladyship's words can bear but one interpretation. +I am innocently involved in some vile deception which I don't +understand. But this I do know--I won't submit to be insulted in +my own house. After what you have just said I forbid my husband +to give you his arm. + +Her husband! + +Lady Jane looked at Mr. Vanborough--at Mr. Vanborough, whom she +loved; whom she had honestly believed to be a single man; whom +she had suspected, up to that moment, of nothing worse than of +trying to screen the frailties of his friend. She dropped her +highly-bred tone; she lost her highly-bred manners. The sense of +her injury (if this was true), the pang of her jealousy (if that +woman was his wife), stripped the human nature in her bare of all +disguises, raised the angry color in her cheeks, and struck the +angry fire out of her eyes. + +"If you can tell the truth, Sir," she said, haughtily, "be so +good as to tell it now. Have you been falsely presenting yourself +to the world--falsely presenting yourself to _me_--in the +character and with the aspirations of a single man? Is that lady +your wife?" + +"Do you hear her? do you see her?" cri ed Mrs. Vanborough, +appealing to her husband, in her turn. She suddenly drew back +from him, shuddering from head to foot. "He hesitates!" she said +to herself, faintly. "Good God! he hesitates!" + +Lady Jane sternly repeated her question. + +"Is that lady your wife?" + +He roused his scoundrel-courage, and said the fatal word: + +"No!" + +Mrs. Vanborough staggered back. She caught at the white curtains +of the window to save herself from falling, and tore them. She +looked at her husband, with the torn curtain clenched fast in her +hand. She asked herself, "Am I mad? or is he?" + +Lady Jane drew a deep breath of relief. He was not married! He +was only a profligate single man. A profligate single man is +shocking--but reclaimable. It is possible to blame him severely, +and to insist on his reformation in the most uncompromising +terms. It is also possible to forgive him, and marry him. Lady +Jane took the necessary position under the circumstances with +perfect tact. She inflicted reproof in the present without +excluding hope in the future. + +"I have made a very painful discovery," she said, gravely, to Mr. +Vanborough. "It rests with _you_ to persuade me to forget it! +Good-evening!" + +She accompanied the last words by a farewell look which aroused +Mrs. Vanborough to frenzy. She sprang forward and prevented Lady +Jane from leaving the room. + +"No!" she said. "You don't go yet!" + +Mr. Vanborough came forward to interfere. His wife eyed him with +a terrible look, and turned from him with a terrible contempt. +"That man has lied!" she said. "In justice to myself, I insist on +proving it!" She struck a bell on a table near her. The servant +came in. "Fetch my writing-desk out of the next room." She +waited--with her back turned on her husband, with her eyes fixed +on Lady Jane. Defenseless and alone she stood on the wreck of her +married life, superior to the husband's treachery, the lawyer's +indifference, and her rival's contempt. At that dreadful moment +her beauty shone out again with a gleam of its old glory. The +grand woman, who in the old stage days had held thousands +breathless over the mimic woes of the scene, stood there grander +than ever, in her own woe, and held the three people who looked +at her breathless till she spoke again. + +The servant came in with the desk. She took out a paper and +handed it to Lady Jane. + +"I was a singer on the stage," she said, "when I was a single +woman. The slander to which such women are exposed doubted my +marriage. I provided myself with the paper in your hand. It +speaks for itself. Even the highest society, madam, respects +_that!_" + +Lady Jane examined the paper. It was a marriage-certificate. She +turned deadly pale, and beckoned to Mr. Vanborough. "Are you +deceiving me?" she asked. + +Mr. Vanborough looked back into the far corner of the room, in +which the lawyer sat, impenetrably waiting for events. "Oblige me +by coming here for a moment," he said. + +Mr. Delamayn rose and complied with the request. Mr. Vanborough +addressed himself to Lady Jane. + +"I beg to refer you to my man of business. _He_ is not interested +in deceiving you." + +"Am I required simply to speak to the fact?" asked Mr. Delamayn. +"I decline to do more." + +"You are not wanted to do more." + +Listening intently to that interchange of question and answer, +Mrs. Vanborough advanced a step in silence. The high courage that +had sustained her against outrage which had openly declared +itself shrank under the sense of something coming which she had +not foreseen. A nameless dread throbbed at her heart and crept +among the roots of her hair. + +Lady Jane handed the certificate to the lawyer. + +"In two words, Sir," she said, impatiently, "what is this?" + +"In two words, madam," answered Mr. Delamayn; "waste paper." + +"He is _not_ married?" + +"He is _not_ married." + +After a moment's hesitation Lady Jane looked round at Mrs. +Vanborough, standing silent at her side--looked, and started back +in terror. "Take me away!" she cried, shrinking from the ghastly +face that confronted her with the fixed stare of agony in the +great, glittering eyes. "Take me away! That woman will murder +me!" + +Mr. Vanborough gave her his arm and led her to the door. There +was dead silence in the room as he did it. Step by step the +wife's eyes followed them with the same dreadful stare, till the +door closed and shut them out. The lawyer, left alone with the +disowned and deserted woman, put the useless certificate silently +on the table. She looked from him to the paper, and dropped, +without a cry to warn him, without an effort to save herself, +senseless at his feet. + +He lifted her from the floor and placed her on the sofa, and +waited to see if Mr. Vanborough would come back. Looking at the +beautiful face--still beautiful, even in the swoon--he owned it +was hard on her. Yes! in his own impenetrable way, the rising +lawyer owned it was hard on her. + +But the law justified it. There was no doubt in this case. The +law justified it. + +The trampling of horses and the grating of wheels sounded +outside. Lady Jane's carriage was driving away. Would the husband +come back? (See what a thing habit is! Even Mr. Delamayn still +mechanically thought of him as the husband--in the face of the +law! in the face of the facts!) + +No. Then minutes passed. And no sign of the husband coming back. + +It was not wise to make a scandal in the house. It was not +desirable (on his own sole responsibility) to let the servants +see what had happened. Still, there she lay senseless. The cool +evening air came in through the open window and lifted the light +ribbons in her lace cap, lifted the little lock of hair that had +broken loose and drooped over her neck. Still, there she lay--the +wife who had loved him, the mother of his child--there she lay. + +He stretched out his hand to ring the bell and summon help. + +At the same moment the quiet of the summer evening was once more +disturbed. He held his hand suspended over the bell. The noise +outside came nearer. It was again the trampling of horses and the +grating of wheels. Advancing--rapidly advancing--stopping at the +house. + +Was Lady Jane coming back? + +Was the husband coming back? + +There was a loud ring at the bell--a quick opening of the +house-door--a rustling of a woman's dress in the passage. The +door of the room opened, and the woman appeared--alone. Not Lady +Jane. A stranger--older, years older, than Lady Jane. A plain +woman, perhaps, at other times. A woman almost beautiful now, +with the eager happiness that beamed in her face. + +She saw the figure on the sofa. She ran to it with a cry--a cry +of recognition and a cry of terror in one. She dropped on her +knees--and laid that helpless head on her bosom, and kissed, with +a sister's kisses, that cold, white cheek. + +"Oh, my darling!" she said. "Is it thus we meet again?" + +Yes! After all the years that had passed since the parting in the +cabin of the ship, it was thus the two school-friends met again. + + +Part the Second. + + +THE MARCH OF TIME. + +V. + +ADVANCING from time past to time present, the Prologue leaves the +date last attained (the summer of eighteen hundred and +fifty-five), and travels on through an interval of twelve +years--tells who lived, who died, who prospered, and who failed +among the persons concerned in the tragedy at the Hampstead +villa--and, this done, leaves the reader at the opening of THE +STORY in the spring of eighteen hundred and sixty-eight. + +The record begins with a marriage--the marriage of Mr. Vanborough +and Lady Jane Parnell. + +In three months from the memorable day when his solicitor had +informed him that he was a free man, Mr. Vanborough possessed the +wife he desired, to grace the head of his table and to push his +fortunes in the world--the Legislature of Great Britain being the +humble servant of his treachery, and the respectable accomplice +of his crime. + +He entered Parliament. He gave (thanks to his wife) six of the +grandest dinners, and two of the most crowded balls of the +season. He made a successful first speech in the House of +Commons. He endowed a church in a poor neighborhood. He wrote an +article which attracted attention in a quarterly review. He +discovered, denounced, and remedied a crying abuse in the +administration of a public charity. He r eceived (thanks once +more to his wife) a member of the Royal family among the visitors +at his country house in the autumn recess. These were his +triumphs, and this his rate of progress on the way to the +peerage, during the first year of his life as the husband of Lady +Jane. + +There was but one more favor that Fortune could confer on her +spoiled child--and Fortune bestowed it. There was a spot on Mr. +Vanborough's past life as long as the woman lived whom he had +disowned and deserted. At the end of the first year Death took +her--and the spot was rubbed out. + +She had met the merciless injury inflicted on her with a rare +patience, with an admirable courage. It is due to Mr. Vanborough +to admit that he broke her heart, with the strictest attention to +propriety. He offered (through his lawyer ) a handsome provision +for her and for her child. It was rejected, without an instant's +hesitation. She repudiated his money--she repudiated his name. By +the name which she had borne in her maiden days--the name which +she had made illustrious in her Art--the mother and daughter were +known to all who cared to inquire after them when they had sunk +in the world. + +There was no false pride in the resolute attitude which she thus +assumed after her husband had forsaken her. Mrs. Silvester (as +she was now called) gratefully accepted for herself, and for Miss +Silvester, the assistance of the dear old friend who had found +her again in her affliction, and who remained faithful to her to +the end. They lived with Lady Lundie until the mother was strong +enough to carry out the plan of life which she had arranged for +the future, and to earn her bread as a teacher of singing. To all +appearance she rallied, and became herself again, in a few +months' time. She was making her way; she was winning sympathy, +confidence, and respect every where--when she sank suddenly at +the opening of her new life. Nobody could account for it. The +doctors themselves were divided in opinion. Scientifically +speaking, there was no reason why she should die. It was a mere +figure of speech--in no degree satisfactory to any reasonable +mind--to say, as Lady Lundie said, that she had got her +death-blow on the day when her husband deserted her. The one +thing certain was the fact--account for it as you might. In spite +of science (which meant little), in spite of her own courage +(which meant much), the woman dropped at her post and died. + +In the latter part of her illness her mind gave way. The friend +of her old school-days, sitting at the bedside, heard her talking +as if she thought herself back again in the cabin of the ship. +The poor soul found the tone, almost the look, that had been lost +for so many years--the tone of the past time when the two girls +had gone their different ways in the world. She said, "we will +meet, darling, with all the old love between us," just as she had +said almost a lifetime since. Before the end her mind rallied. +She surprised the doctor and the nurse by begging them gently to +leave the room. When they had gone she looked at Lady Lundie, and +woke, as it seemed, to consciousness from a dream. + +"Blanche," she said, "you will take care of my child?" + +"She shall be _my_ child, Anne, when you are gone." + +The dying woman paused, and thought for a little. A sudden +trembling seized her. + +"Keep it a secret!" she said. "I am afraid for my child." + +"Afraid? After what I have promised you?" + +She solemnly repeated the words, "I am afraid for my child." + +"Why?" + +"My Anne is my second self--isn't she?" + +"Yes." + +"She is as fond of your child as I was of you?" + +"Yes." + +"She is not called by her father's name--she is called by mine. +She is Anne Silvester as I was. Blanche! _Will she end like Me?_" + +The question was put with the laboring breath, with the heavy +accents which tell that death is near. It chilled the living +woman who heard it to the marrow of her bones. + +"Don't think that!" she cried, horror-struck. "For God's sake, +don't think that!" + +The wildness began to appear again in Anne Silvester's eyes. She +made feebly impatient signs with her hands. Lady Lundie bent over +her, and heard her whisper, "Lift me up." + +She lay in her friend's arms; she looked up in her friend's face; +she went back wildly to her fear for her child. + +"Don't bring her up like Me! She must be a governess--she must +get her bread. Don't let her act! don't let her sing! don't let +her go on the stage!" She stopped--her voice suddenly recovered +its sweetness of tone--she smiled faintly--she said the old +girlish words once more, in the old girlish way, "Vow it, +Blanche!" Lady Lundie kissed her, and answered, as she had +answered when they parted in the ship, "I vow it, Anne!" + +The head sank, never to be lifted more. The last look of life +flickered in the filmy eyes and went out. For a moment afterward +her lips moved. Lady Lundie put her ear close to them, and heard +the dreadful question reiterated, in the same dreadful words: +"She is Anne Silvester--as I was. _Will she end like Me?_" + +VI. + +Five years passed--and the lives of the three men who had sat at +the dinner-table in the Hampstead villa began, in their altered +aspects, to reveal the progress of time and change. + +Mr. Kendrew; Mr. Delamayn; Mr. Vanborough. Let the order in which +they are here named be the order in which their lives are +reviewed, as seen once more after a lapse of five years. + +How the husband's friend marked his sense of the husband's +treachery has been told already. How he felt the death of the +deserted wife is still left to tell. Report, which sees the +inmost hearts of men, and delights in turning them outward to the +public view, had always declared that Mr. Kendrew's life had its +secret, and that the secret was a hopeless passion for the +beautiful woman who had married his friend. Not a hint ever +dropped to any living soul, not a word ever spoken to the woman +herself, could be produced in proof of the assertion while the +woman lived. When she died Report started up again more +confidently than ever, and appealed to the man's own conduct as +proof against the man himself. + +He attended the funeral--though he was no relation. He took a few +blades of grass from the turf with which they covered her +grave--when he thought that nobody was looking at him. He +disappeared from his club. He traveled. He came back. He admitted +that he was weary of England. He applied for, and obtained, an +appointment in one of the colonies. To what conclusion did all +this point? Was it not plain that his usual course of life had +lost its attraction for him, when the object of his infatuation +had ceased to exist? It might have been so--guesses less likely +have been made at the truth, and have hit the mark. It is, at any +rate, certain that he left England, never to return again. +Another man lost, Report said. Add to that, a man in ten +thousand--and, for once, Report might claim to be right. + +Mr. Delamayn comes next. + +The rising solicitor was struck off the roll, at his own +request--and entered himself as a student at one of the Inns of +Court. For three years nothing was known of him but that he was +reading hard and keeping his terms. He was called to the Bar. His +late partners in the firm knew they could trust him, and put +business into his hands. In two years he made himself a position +in Court. At the end of the two years he made himself a position +out of Court. He appeared as "Junior" in "a famous case," in +which the honor of a great family, and the title to a great +estate were concerned. His "Senior" fell ill on the eve of the +trial. He conducted the case for the defendant and won it. The +defendant said, "What can I do for you?" Mr. Delamayn answered, +"Put me into Parliament." Being a landed gentleman, the defendant +had only to issue the necessary orders--and behold, Mr. Delamayn +was in Parliament! + +In the House of Commons the new member and Mr. Vanborough met +again. + +They sat on the same bench, and sided with the same party. Mr. +Delamayn noticed that Mr. Vanborough was looking old and worn and +gray. He put a few questions to a well-informed person. The +well-informed person shook his head. Mr. Vanborough was rich; Mr. +Vanborough was well-connected (through his wife); Mr. Van borough +was a sound man in every sense of the word; _but_--nobody liked +him. He had done very well the first year, and there it had +ended. He was undeniably clever, but he produced a disagreeable +impression in the House. He gave splendid entertainments, but he +wasn't popular in society. His party respected him, but when they +had any thing to give they passed him over. He had a temper of +his own, if the truth must be told; and with nothing against +him--on the contrary, with every thing in his favor--he didn't +make friends. A soured man. At home and abroad, a soured man. + +VII. + +Five years more passed, dating from the day when the deserted +wife was laid in her grave. It was now the year eighteen hundred +and sixty six. + +On a certain day in that year two special items of news appeared +in the papers--the news of an elevation to the peerage, and the +news of a suicide. + +Getting on well at the Bar, Mr. Delamayn got on better still in +Parliament. He became one of the prominent men in the House. +Spoke clearly, sensibly, and modestly, and was never too long. +Held the House, where men of higher abilities "bored" it. The +chiefs of his party said openly, "We must do something for +Delamayn," The opportunity offered, and the chiefs kept their +word. Their Solicitor-General was advanced a step, and they put +Delamayn in his place. There was an outcry on the part of the +older members of the Bar. The Ministry answered, "We want a man +who is listened to in the House, and we have got him." The papers +supported the new nomination. A great debate came off, and the +new Solicitor-General justified the Ministry and the papers. His +enemies said, derisively, "He will be Lord Chancellor in a year +or two!" His friends made genial jokes in his domestic circle, +which pointed to the same conclusion. They warned his two sons, +Julius and Geoffrey (then at college), to be careful what +acquaintances they made, as they might find themselves the sons +of a lord at a moment's notice. It really began to look like +something of the sort. Always rising, Mr. Delamayn rose next to +be Attorney-General. About the same time--so true it is that +"nothing succeeds like success"--a childless relative died and +left him a fortune. In the summer of 'sixty-six a Chief Judgeship +fell vacant. The Ministry had made a previous appointment which +had been universally unpopular. They saw their way to supplying +the place of their Attorney-General, and they offered the +judicial appointment to Mr. Delamayn. He preferred remaining in +the House of Commons, and refused to accept it. The Ministry +declined to take No for an answer. They whispered confidentially, +" Will you take it with a peerage?" Mr. Delamayn consulted his +wife, and took it with a peerage. The London _ Gazette_ announced +him to the world as Baron Holchester of Holchester. And the +friends of the family rubbed their hands and said, "What did we +tell you? Here are our two young friends, Julius and Geoffrey, +the sons of a lord!" + +And where was Mr. Vanborough all this time? Exactly where we left +him five years since. + +He was as rich, or richer, than ever. He was as well-connected as +ever. He was as ambitious as ever. But there it ended. He stood +still in the House; he stood still in society; nobody liked him; +he made no friends. It was all the old story over again, with +this difference, that the soured man was sourer; the gray head, +grayer; and the irritable temper more unendurable than ever. His +wife had her rooms in the house and he had his, and the +confidential servants took care that they never met on the +stairs. They had no children. They only saw each other at their +grand dinners and balls. People ate at their table, and danced on +their floor, and compared notes afterward, and said how dull it +was. Step by step the man who had once been Mr. Vanborough's +lawyer rose, till the peerage received him, and he could rise no +longer; while Mr. Vanborough, on the lower round of the ladder, +looked up, and noted it, with no more chance (rich as he was and +well-connected as he was) of climbing to the House of Lords than +your chance or mine. + +The man's career was ended; and on the day when the nomination of +the new peer was announced, the man ended with it. + +He laid the newspaper aside without making any remark, and went +out. His carriage set him down, where the green fields still +remain, on the northwest of London, near the foot-path which +leads to Hampstead. He walked alone to the villa where he had +once lived with the woman whom he had so cruelly wronged. New +houses had risen round it, part of the old garden had been sold +and built on. After a moment's hesitation he went to the gate and +rang the bell. He gave the servant his card. The servant's master +knew the name as the name of a man of great wealth, and of a +Member of Parliament. He asked politely to what fortunate +circumstance he owed the honor of that visit. Mr. Vanborough +answered, briefly and simply, "I once lived here; I have +associations with the place with which it is not necessary for me +to trouble you. Will you excuse what must seem to you a very +strange request? I should like to see the dining-room again, if +there is no objection, and if I am disturbing nobody." + +The "strange requests" of rich men are of the nature of +"privileged communications," for this excellent reason, that they +are sure not to be requests for money. Mr. Vanborough was shown +into the dining-room. The master of the house, secretly +wondering, watched him. + +He walked straight to a certain spot on the carpet, not far from +the window that led into the garden, and nearly opposite the +door. On that spot he stood silently, with his head on his +breast--thinking. Was it _there_ he had seen her for the last +time, on the day when he left the room forever? Yes; it was +there. After a minute or so he roused himself, but in a dreamy, +absent manner. He said it was a pretty place, and expressed his +thanks, and looked back before the door closed, and then went his +way again. His carriage picked him up where it had set him down. +He drove to the residence of the new Lord Holchester, and left a +card for him. Then he went home. Arrived at his house, his +secretary reminded him that he had an appointment in ten minutes' +time. He thanked the secretary in the same dreamy, absent manner +in which he had thanked the owner of the villa, and went into his +dressing-room. The person with whom he had made the appointment +came, and the secretary sent the valet up stairs to knock at the +door. There was no answer. On trying the lock it proved to be +turned inside. They broke open the door, and saw him lying on the +sofa. They went close to look--and found him dead by his own +hand. + +VIII. + +Drawing fast to its close, the Prologue reverts to the two +girls--and tells, in a few words, how the years passed with Anne +and Blanche. + +Lady Lundie more than redeemed the solemn pledge that she had +given to her friend. Preserved from every temptation which might +lure her into a longing to follow her mother's career; trained +for a teacher's life, with all the arts and all the advantages +that money could procure, Anne's first and only essays as a +governess were made, under Lady Lundie's own roof, on Lady +Lundie's own child. The difference in the ages of the +girls--seven years--the love between them, which seemed, as time +went on, to grow with their growth, favored the trial of the +experiment. In the double relation of teacher and friend to +little Blanche, the girlhood of Anne Silvester the younger passed +safely, happily, uneventfully, in the modest sanctuary of home. +Who could imagine a contrast more complete than the contrast +between her early life and her mother's? Who could see any thing +but a death-bed delusion in the terrible question which had +tortured the mother's last moments: "Will she end like Me?" + +But two events of importance occurred in the quiet family circle +during the lapse of years which is now under review. In eighteen +hundred and fifty-eight the household was enlivened by the +arrival of Sir Thomas Lundie. In eighteen hundred and sixty-five +the household was broken up by the return of Sir Thomas to India, +accompanied by his wife. + +Lady Lundie's health had b een failing for some time previously. +The medical men, consulted on the case, agreed that a sea-voyage +was the one change needful to restore their patient's wasted +strength--exactly at the time, as it happened, when Sir Thomas +was due again in India. For his wife's sake, he agreed to defer +his return, by taking the sea-voyage with her. The one difficulty +to get over was the difficulty of leaving Blanche and Anne behind +in England. + +Appealed to on this point, the doctors had declared that at +Blanche's critical time of life they could not sanction her going +to India with her mother. At the same time, near and dear +relatives came forward, who were ready and anxious to give +Blanche and her governess a home--Sir Thomas, on his side, +engaging to bring his wife back in a year and a half, or, at +most, in two years' time. Assailed in all directions, Lady +Lundie's natural unwillingness to leave the girls was overruled. +She consented to the parting--with a mind secretly depressed, and +secretly doubtful of the future. + +At the last moment she drew Anne Silvester on one side, out of +hearing of the rest. Anne was then a young woman of twenty-two, +and Blanche a girl of fifteen. + +"My dear," she said, simply, "I must tell _you_ what I can not +tell Sir Thomas, and what I am afraid to tell Blanche. I am going +away, with a mind that misgives me. I am persuaded I shall not +live to return to England; and, when I am dead, I believe my +husband will marry again. Years ago your mother was uneasy, on +her death-bed, about _your_ future. I am uneasy, now, about +Blanche's future. I promised my dear dead friend that you should +be like my own child to me--and it quieted her mind. Quiet my +mind, Anne, before I go. Whatever happens in years to +come--promise me to be always, what you are now, a sister to +Blanche." + +She held out her hand for the last time. With a full heart Anne +Silvester kissed it, and gave the promise. + +IX. + +In two months from that time one of the forebodings which had +weighed on Lady Lundie's mind was fulfilled. She died on the +voyage, and was buried at sea. + +In a year more the second misgiving was confirmed. Sir Thomas +Lundie married again. He brought his second wife to England +toward the close of eighteen hundred and sixty six. + +Time, in the new household, promised to pass as quietly as in the +old. Sir Thomas remembered and respected the trust which his +first wife had placed in Anne. The second Lady Lundie, wisely +guiding her conduct in this matter by the conduct of her husband, +left things as she found them in the new house. At the opening of +eighteen hundred and sixty-seven the relations between Anne and +Blanche were relations of sisterly sympathy and sisterly love. +The prospect in the future was as fair as a prospect could be. + +At this date, of the persons concerned in the tragedy of twelve +years since at the Hampstead villa, three were dead; and one was +self-exiled in a foreign land. There now remained living Anne and +Blanche, who had been children at the time; and the rising +solicitor who had discovered the flaw in the Irish marriage--once +Mr. Delamayn: now Lord Holchester. + + +THE STORY. + + +FIRST SCENE.--THE SUMMER-HOUSE. + + +CHAPTER THE FIRST. + + +THE OWLS. + +IN the spring of the year eighteen hundred and sixty-eight there +lived, in a certain county of North Britain, two venerable White +Owls. + +The Owls inhabited a decayed and deserted summer-house. The +summer-house stood in grounds attached to a country seat in +Perthshire, known by the name of Windygates. + +The situation of Windygates had been skillfully chosen in that +part of the county where the fertile lowlands first begin to +merge into the mountain region beyond. The mansion-house was +intelligently laid out, and luxuriously furnished. The stables +offered a model for ventilation and space; and the gardens and +grounds were fit for a prince. + +Possessed of these advantages, at starting, Windygates, +nevertheless, went the road to ruin in due course of time. The +curse of litigation fell on house and lands. For more than ten +years an interminable lawsuit coiled itself closer and closer +round the place, sequestering it from human habitation, and even +from human approach. The mansion was closed. The garden became a +wilderness of weeds. The summer-house was choked up by creeping +plants; and the appearance of the creepers was followed by the +appearance of the birds of night. + +For years the Owls lived undisturbed on the property which they +had acquired by the oldest of all existing rights--the right of +taking. Throughout the day they sat peaceful and solemn, with +closed eyes, in the cool darkness shed round them by the ivy. +With the twilight they roused themselves softly to the business +of life. In sage and silent companionship of two, they went +flying, noiseless, along the quiet lanes in search of a meal. At +one time they would beat a field like a setter dog, and drop down +in an instant on a mouse unaware of them. At another time--moving +spectral over the black surface of the water--they would try the +lake for a change, and catch a perch as they had caught the +mouse. Their catholic digestions were equally tolerant of a rat +or an insect. And there were moments, proud moments, in their +lives, when they were clever enough to snatch a small bird at +roost off his perch. On those occasions the sense of superiority +which the large bird feels every where over the small, warmed +their cool blood, and set them screeching cheerfully in the +stillness of the night. + +So, for years, the Owls slept their happy sleep by day, and found +their comfortable meal when darkness fell. They had come, with +the creepers, into possession of the summer-house. Consequently, +the creepers were a part of the constitution of the summer-house. +And consequently the Owls were the guardians of the Constitution. +There are some human owls who reason as they did, and who are, in +this respect--as also in respect of snatching smaller birds off +their roosts--wonderfully like them. + +The constitution of the summer-house had lasted until the spring +of the year eighteen hundred and sixty-eight, when the unhallowed +footsteps of innovation passed that way; and the venerable +privileges of the Owls were assailed, for the first time, from +the world outside. + +Two featherless beings appeared, uninvited, at the door of the +summer-house, surveyed the constitutional creepers, and said, +"These must come down"--looked around at the horrid light of +noonday, and said, "That must come in"--went away, thereupon, and +were heard, in the distance, agreeing together, "To-morrow it +shall be done." + +And the Owls said, "Have we honored the summer-house by occupying +it all these years--and is the horrid light of noonday to be let +in on us at last? My lords and gentlemen, the Constitution is +destroyed!" + +They passed a resolution to that effect, as is the manner of +their kind. And then they shut their eyes again, and felt that +they had done their duty. + +The same night, on their way to the fields, they observed with +dismay a light in one of the windows of the house. What did the +light mean? + +It meant, in the first place, that the lawsuit was over at last. +It meant, in the second place that the owner of Windygates, +wanting money, had decided on letting the property. It meant, in +the third place, that the property had found a tenant, and was to +be renovated immediately out of doors and in. The Owls shrieked +as they flapped along the lanes in the darkness, And that night +they struck at a mouse--and missed him. + +The next morning, the Owls--fast asleep in charge of the +Constitution--were roused by voices of featherless beings all +round them. They opened their eyes, under protest, and saw +instruments of destruction attacking the creepers. Now in one +direction, and now in another, those instruments let in on the +summer-house the horrid light of day. But the Owls were equal to +the occasion. They ruffled their feathers, and cried, "No +surrender!" The featherless beings plied their work cheerfully, +and answered, "Reform!" The creepers were torn down this way and +that. The horrid daylight poured in brighter and brighter. The +Owls had barely time to pass a new resolution, namely, "That we +do stand + by the Constitution," when a ray of the outer sunlight flashed +into their eyes, and sent them flying headlong to the nearest +shade. There they sat winking, while the summer-house was cleared +of the rank growth that had choked it up, while the rotten +wood-work was renewed, while all the murky place was purified +with air and light. And when the world saw it, and said, "Now we +shall do!" the Owls shut their eyes in pious remembrance of the +darkness, and answered, "My lords and gentlemen, the Constitution +is destroyed!" + + +CHAPTER THE SECOND. + +THE GUESTS. + +Who was responsible for the reform of the summer-house? The new +tenant at Windygates was responsible. + +And who was the new tenant? + +Come, and see. + + + +In the spring of eighteen hundred and sixty-eight the +summer-house had been the dismal dwelling-place of a pair of +owls. In the autumn + of the same year the summer-house was the lively gathering-place +of a crowd of ladies and gentlemen, assembled at a lawn +party--the guests of the tenant who had taken Windygates. + +The scene--at the opening of the party--was as pleasant to look +at as light and beauty and movement could make it. + +Inside the summer-house the butterfly-brightness of the women in +their summer dresses shone radiant out of the gloom shed round it +by the dreary modern clothing of the men. Outside the +summer-house, seen through three arched openings, the cool green +prospect of a lawn led away, in the distance, to flower-beds and +shrubberies, and, farther still, disclosed, through a break in +the trees, a grand stone house which closed the view, with a +fountain in front of it playing in the sun. + +They were half of them laughing, they were all of them +talking--the comfortable hum of their voices was at its loudest; +the cheery pealing of the laughter was soaring to its highest +notes--when one dominant voice, rising clear and shrill above all +the rest, called imperatively for silence. The moment after, a +young lady stepped into the vacant space in front of the +summer-house, and surveyed the throng of guests as a general in +command surveys a regiment under review. + +She was young, she was pretty, she was plump, she was fair. She +was not the least embarrassed by her prominent position. She was +dressed in the height of the fashion. A hat, like a cheese-plate, +was tilted over her forehead. A balloon of light brown hair +soared, fully inflated, from the crown of her head. A cataract of +beads poured over her bosom. A pair of cock-chafers in enamel +(frightfully like the living originals) hung at her ears. Her +scanty skirts shone splendid with the blue of heaven. Her ankles +twinkled in striped stockings. Her shoes were of the sort called +"Watteau." And her heels were of the height at which men shudder, +and ask themselves (in contemplating an otherwise lovable woman), +"Can this charming person straighten her knees?" + +The young lady thus presenting herself to the general view was +Miss Blanche Lundie--once the little rosy Blanche whom the +Prologue has introduced to the reader. Age, at the present time, +eighteen. Position, excellent. Money, certain. Temper, quick. +Disposition, variable. In a word, a child of the modern +time--with the merits of the age we live in, and the failings of +the age we live in--and a substance of sincerity and truth and +feeling underlying it all. + +"Now then, good people," cried Miss Blanche, "silence, if you +please! We are going to choose sides at croquet. Business, +business, business!" + +Upon this, a second lady among the company assumed a position of +prominence, and answered the young person who had just spoken +with a look of mild reproof, and in a tone of benevolent protest. + +The second lady was tall, and solid, and five-and-thirty. She +presented to the general observation a cruel aquiline nose, an +obstinate straight chin, magnificent dark hair and eyes, a serene +splendor of fawn-colored apparel, and a lazy grace of movement +which was attractive at first sight, but inexpressibly monotonous +and wearisome on a longer acquaintance. This was Lady Lundie the +Second, now the widow (after four months only of married life) of +Sir Thomas Lundie, deceased. In other words, the step-mother of +Blanche, and the enviable person who had taken the house and +lands of Windygates. + +"My dear," said Lady Lundie, "words have their meanings--even on +a young lady's lips. Do you call Croquet, 'business?' " + +"You don't call it pleasure, surely?" said a gravely ironical +voice in the back-ground of the summer-house. + +The ranks of the visitors parted before the last speaker, and +disclosed to view, in the midst of that modern assembly, a +gentleman of the bygone time. + +The manner of this gentleman was distinguished by a pliant grace +and courtesy unknown to the present generation. The attire of +this gentleman was composed of a many-folded white cravat, a +close-buttoned blue dress-coat, and nankeen trousers with gaiters +to match, ridiculous to the present generation. The talk of this +gentleman ran in an easy flow--revealing an independent habit of +mind, and exhibiting a carefully-polished capacity for satirical +retort--dreaded and disliked by the present generation. +Personally, he was little and wiry and slim--with a bright white +head, and sparkling black eyes, and a wry twist of humor curling +sharply at the corners of his lips. At his lower extremities, he +exhibited the deformity which is popularly known as "a +club-foot." But he carried his lameness, as he carried his years, +gayly. He was socially celebrated for his ivory cane, with a +snuff-box artfully let into the knob at the top--and he was +socially dreaded for a hatred of modern institutions, which +expressed itself in season and out of season, and which always +showed the same, fatal knack of hitting smartly on the weakest +place. Such was Sir Patrick Lundie; brother of the late baronet, +Sir Thomas; and inheritor, at Sir Thomas's death, of the title +and estates. + +Miss Blanche--taking no notice of her step-mother's reproof, or +of her uncle's commentary on it--pointed to a table on which +croquet mallets and balls were laid ready, and recalled the +attention of the company to the matter in hand. + +"I head one side, ladies and gentlemen," she resumed. "And Lady +Lundie heads the other. We choose our players turn and turn +about. Mamma has the advantage of me in years. So mamma chooses +first." + +With a look at her step-daughter--which, being interpreted, +meant, "I would send you back to the nursery, miss, if I +could!"--Lady Lundie turned and ran her eye over her guests. She +had evidently made up her mind, beforehand, what player to pick +out first. + +"I choose Miss Silvester," she said--with a special emphasis laid +on the name. + +At that there was another parting among the crowd. To us (who +know her), it was Anne who now appeared. Strangers, who saw her +for the first time, saw a lady in the prime of her life--a lady +plainly dressed in unornamented white--who advanced slowly, and +confronted the mistress of the house. + +A certain proportion--and not a small one--of the men at the +lawn-party had been brought there by friends who were privileged +to introduce them. The moment she appeared every one of those men +suddenly became interested in the lady who had been chosen first. + +"That's a very charming woman," whispered one of the strangers at +the house to one of the friends of the house. "Who is she?" + +The friend whispered back. + +"Miss Lundie's governess--that's all." + +The moment during which the question was put and answered was +also the moment which brought Lady Lundie and Miss Silvester face +to face in the presence of the company. + +The stranger at the house looked at the two women, and whispered +again. + +"Something wrong between the lady and the governess," he said. + +The friend looked also, and answered, in one emphatic word: + +"Evidently!" + +There are certain women whose influence over men is an +unfathomable mystery to observers of their own sex. The governess +was one of those women. She had inherited the charm, but not the +beauty, of her unhappy mother. Judge her by the standard set up +in the illustrated gift-books and the print-shop windows--and the +sentence must have inevitably followed. "She has not a single +good feature + in her face." + +There was nothing individually remarkable about Miss Silvester, +seen in a state of repose. She was of the average height. She was +as well made as most women. In hair and complexion she was +neither light nor dark, but provokingly neutral just between the +two. Worse even than this, there were positive defects in her +face, which it was impossible to deny. A nervous contraction at +one corner of her mouth drew up the lips out of the symmetrically +right line, when, they moved. A nervous uncertainty in the eye on +the same side narrowly escaped presenting the deformity of a +"cast." And yet, with these indisputable drawbacks, here was one +of those women--the formidable few--who have the hearts of men +and the peace of families at their mercy. She moved--and there +was some subtle charm, Sir, in the movement, that made you look +back, and suspend your conversation with your friend, and watch +her silently while she walked. She sat by you and talked to +you--and behold, a sensitive something passed into that little +twist at the corner of the mouth, and into that nervous +uncertainty in the soft gray eye, which turned defect into +beauty--which enchained your senses--which made your nerves +thrill if she touched you by accident, and set your heart beating +if you looked at the same book with her, and felt her breath on +your face. All this, let it be well understood, only happened if +you were a man. + +If you saw her with the eyes of a woman, the results were of +quite another kind. In that case you merely turned to your +nearest female friend, and said, with unaffected pity for the +other sex, "What _can_ the men see in her!" + +The eyes of the lady of the house and the eyes of the governess +met, with marked distrust on either side. Few people could have +failed to see what the stranger and the friend had noticed +alike--that there was something smoldering under the surface +here. Miss Silvester spoke first. + +"Thank you, Lady Lundie," she said. "I would rather not play." + +Lady Lundie assumed an extreme surprise which passed the limits +of good-breeding. + +"Oh, indeed?" she rejoined, sharply. "Considering that we are all +here for the purpose of playing, that seems rather remarkable. Is +any thing wrong, Miss Silvester?" + +A flush appeared on the delicate paleness of Miss Silvester's +face. But she did her duty as a woman and a governess. She +submitted, and so preserved appearances, for that time. + +"Nothing is the matter," she answered. "I am not very well this +morning. But I will play if you wish it." + +"I do wish it," answered Lady Lundie. + +Miss Silvester turned aside toward one of the entrances into the +summer-house. She waited for events, looking out over the lawn, +with a visible inner disturbance, marked over the bosom by the +rise and fall of her white dress. + +It was Blanche's turn to select the next player . + +In some preliminary uncertainty as to her choice she looked about +among the guests, and caught the eye of a gentleman in the front +ranks. He stood side by side with Sir Patrick--a striking +representative of the school that is among us--as Sir Patrick was +a striking representative of the school that has passed away. + +The modern gentleman was young and florid, tall and strong. The +parting of his curly Saxon locks began in the center of his +forehead, traveled over the top of his head, and ended, +rigidly-central, at the ruddy nape of his neck. His features were +as perfectly regular and as perfectly unintelligent as human +features can be. His expression preserved an immovable composure +wonderful to behold. The muscles of his brawny arms showed +through the sleeves of his light summer coat. He was deep in the +chest, thin in the flanks, firm on the legs--in two words a +magnificent human animal, wrought up to the highest pitch of +physical development, from head to foot. This was Mr. Geoffrey +Delamayn--commonly called "the honorable;" and meriting that +distinction in more ways than one. He was honorable, in the first +place, as being the son (second son) of that once-rising +solicitor, who was now Lord Holchester. He was honorable, in the +second place, as having won the highest popular distinction which +the educational system of modern England can bestow--he had +pulled the stroke-oar in a University boat-race. Add to this, +that nobody had ever seen him read any thing but a newspaper, and +that nobody had ever known him to be backward in settling a +bet--and the picture of this distinguished young Englishman will +be, for the present, complete. + +Blanche's eye naturally rested on him. Blanche's voice naturally +picked him out as the first player on her side. + +"I choose Mr. Delamayn," she said. + +As the name passed her lips the flush on Miss Silvester's face +died away, and a deadly paleness took its place. She made a +movement to leave the summer-house--checked herself abruptly--and +laid one hand on the back of a rustic seat at her side. A +gentleman behind her, looking at the hand, saw it clench itself +so suddenly and so fiercely that the glove on it split. The +gentleman made a mental memorandum, and registered Miss Silvester +in his private books as "the devil's own temper." + +Meanwhile Mr. Delamayn, by a strange coincidence, took exactly +the same course which Miss Silvester had taken before him. He, +too, attempted to withdraw from the coming game. + +"Thanks very much," he said. "Could you additionally honor me by +choosing somebody else? It's not in my line." + +Fifty years ago such an answer as this, addressed to a lady, +would have been considered inexcusably impertinent. The social +code of the present time hailed it as something frankly amusing. +The company laughed. Blanche lost her temper. + +"Can't we interest you in any thing but severe muscular exertion, +Mr. Delamayn?" she asked, sharply. "Must you always be pulling in +a boat-race, or flying over a high jump? If you had a mind, you +would want to relax it. You have got muscles instead. Why not +relax _ them?"_ + +The shafts of Miss Lundie's bitter wit glided off Mr. Geoffrey +Delamayn like water off a duck's back. + +"Just as you please," he said, with stolid good-humor. "Don't be +offended. I came here with ladies--and they wouldn't let me +smoke. I miss my smoke. I thought I'd slip away a bit and have +it. All right! I'll play." + +"Oh! smoke by all means!" retorted Blanche. "I shall choose +somebody else. I won't have you!" + +The honorable young gentleman looked unaffectedly relieved. The +petulant young lady turned her back on him, and surveyed the +guests at the other extremity of the summer-house. + +"Who shall I choose?" she said to herself. + +A dark young man--with a face burned gipsy-brown by the sun; with +something in his look and manner suggestive of a roving life, and +perhaps of a familiar acquaintance with the sea--advanced shyly, +and said, in a whisper: + +"Choose me!" + +Blanche's face broke prettily into a charming smile. Judging from +appearances, the dark young man had a place in her estimation +peculiarly his own. + +"You!" she said, coquettishly. "You are going to leave us in an +hour's time!" + +He ventured a step nearer. "I am coming back," he pleaded, "the +day after to-morrow." + +"You play very badly!" + +"I might improve--if you would teach me." + +"Might you? Then I will teach you!" She turned, bright and rosy, +to her step-mother. "I choose Mr. Arnold Brinkworth," she said. + +Here, again, there appeared to be something in a name unknown to +celebrity, which nevertheless produced its effect--not, this +time, on Miss Silvester, but on Sir Patrick. He looked at Mr. +Brinkworth with a sudden interest and curiosity. If the lady of +the house had not claimed his attention at the moment he would +evidently have spoken to the dark young man. + +But it was Lady Lundie's turn to choose a second player on her +side. Her brother-in-law was a person of some importance; and she +had her own motives for ingratiating herself with the head of the +family. She surprised the whole company by choosing Sir Patrick. + +"Mamma!" cried Blanche. "What can you be thinking of? Sir Patrick +won't play. Croquet wasn't discovered in his time." + +Sir Patrick never allowed "his time" to be made the subject of +disparaging remarks by the younger generation without paying the +y ounger generation back in its own coin. + +"In _my_ time, my dear," he said to his niece, "people were +expected to bring some agreeable quality with them to social +meetings of this sort. In your time you have dispensed with all +that. Here," remarked the old gentleman, taking up a croquet +mallet from the table near him, "is one of the qualifications for +success in modern society. And here," he added, taking up a ball, +"is another. Very good. Live and learn. I'll play! I'll play!" + +Lady Lundie (born impervious to all sense of irony) smiled +graciously. + +"I knew Sir Patrick would play," she said, "to please me," + +Sir Patrick bowed with satirical politeness. + +"Lady Lundie," he answered, "you read me like a book." To the +astonishment of all persons present under forty he emphasized +those words by laying his hand on his heart, and quoting poetry. +"I may say with Dryden," added the gallant old gentleman: + + " 'Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, + The power of beauty I remember yet.' " + +Lady Lundie looked unaffectedly shocked. Mr. Delamayn went a step +farther. He interfered on the spot--with the air of a man who +feels himself imperatively called upon to perform a public duty. + +"Dryden never said that," he remarked, "I'll answer for it." + +Sir Patrick wheeled round with the help of his ivory cane, and +looked Mr. Delamayn hard in the face. + +"Do you know Dryden, Sir, better than I do?" he asked. + +The Honorable Geoffrey answered, modestly, "I should say I did. I +have rowed three races with him, and we trained together." + +Sir Patrick looked round him with a sour smile of triumph. + +"Then let me tell you, Sir," he said, "that you trained with a +man who died nearly two hundred years ago." + +Mr. Delamayn appealed, in genuine bewilderment, to the company +generally: + +"What does this old gentleman mean?" he asked. "I am speaking of +Tom Dryden, of Corpus. Every body in the University knows _him._" + +"I am speaking," echoed Sir Patrick, "of John Dryden the Poet. +Apparently, every body in the University does _not_ know _him!"_ + +Mr. Delamayn answered, with a cordial earnestness very pleasant +to see: + +"Give you my word of honor, I never heard of him before in my +life! Don't be angry, Sir. _I'm_ not offended with _you._" He +smiled, and took out his brier-wood pipe. "Got a light?" he +asked, in the friendliest possible manner. + +Sir Patrick answered, with a total absence of cordiality: + +"I don't smoke, Sir." + +Mr. Delamayn looked at him, without taking the slightest offense: + +"You don't smoke!" he repeated. "I wonder how you get through +your spare time?" + +Sir Patrick closed the conversation: + +"Sir," he said, with a low bow, "you _may_ wonder." + +While this little skirmish was proceeding Lady Lundie and her +step-daughter had organized the game; and the company, players +and spectators, were beginning to move toward the lawn. Sir +Patrick stopped his niece on her way out, with the dark young man +in close attendance on her. + +"Leave Mr. Brinkworth with me," he said. "I want to speak to +him." + +Blanche issued her orders immediately. Mr. Brinkworth was +sentenced to stay with Sir Patrick until she wanted him for the +game. Mr. Brinkworth wondered, and obeyed. + +During the exercise of this act of authority a circumstance +occurred at the other end of the summer-house. Taking advantage +of the confusion caused by the general movement to the lawn, Miss +Silvester suddenly placed herself close to Mr. Delamayn. + +"In ten minutes," she whispered, "the summer-house will be empty. +Meet me here." + +The Honorable Geoffrey started, and looked furtively at the +visitors about him. + +"Do you think it's safe?" he whispered back. + +The governess's sensitive lips trembled, with fear or with anger, +it was hard to say which. + +"I insist on it!" she answered, and left him. + +Mr. Delamayn knitted his handsome eyebrows as he looked after +her, and then left the summer-house in his turn. The rose-garden +at the back of the building was solitary for the moment. He took +out his pipe and hid himself among the roses. The smoke came from +his mouth in hot and hasty puffs. He was usually the gentlest of +masters--to his pipe. When he hurried that confidential servant, +it was a sure sign of disturbance in the inner man. + + +CHAPTER THE THIRD. + +THE DISCOVERIES. + +BUT two persons were now left in the summer-house--Arnold +Brinkworth and Sir Patrick Lundie. + +"Mr. Brinkworth," said the old gentleman, "I have had no +opportunity of speaking to you before this; and (as I hear that +you are to leave us, to-day) I may find no opportunity at a later +time. I want to introduce myself. Your father was one of my +dearest friends--let me make a friend of your father's son." + +He held out his hands, and mentioned his name. + +Arnold recognized it directly. "Oh, Sir Patrick!" he said, +warmly, "if my poor father had only taken your advice--" + +"He would have thought twice before he gambled away his fortune +on the turf; and he might have been alive here among us, instead +of dying an exile in a foreign land," said Sir Patrick, finishing +the sentence which the other had begun. "No more of that! Let's +talk of something else. Lady Lundie wrote to me about you the +other day. She told me your aunt was dead, and had left you heir +to her property in Scotland. Is that true?--It is?--I +congratulate you with all my heart. Why are you visiting here, +instead of looking after your house and lands? Oh! it's only +three-and-twenty miles from this; and you're going to look after +it to-day, by the next train? Quite right. And--what? +what?--coming back again the day after to-morrow? Why should you +come back? Some special attraction here, I suppose? I hope it's +the right sort of attraction. You're very young--you're exposed +to all sorts of temptations. Have you got a solid foundation of +good sense at the bottom of you? It is not inherited from your +poor father, if you have. You must have been a mere boy when he +ruined his children's prospects. How have you lived from that +time to this? What were you doing when your aunt's will made an +idle man of you for life?" + +The question was a searching one. Arnold answered it, without the +slightest hesitation; speaking with an unaffected modesty and +simplicity which at once won Sir Patrick's heart. + +"I was a boy at Eton, Sir," he said, "when my father's losses +ruined him. I had to leave school, and get my own living; and I +have got it, in a roughish way, from that time to this. In plain +English, I have followed the sea--in the merchant-service." + +"In plainer English still, you met adversity like a brave lad, +and you have fairly earned the good luck that has fallen to you," +rejoined Sir Patrick. "Give me your hand--I have taken a liking +to you. You're not like the other young fellows of the present +time. I shall call you 'Arnold.' You mus'n't return the +compliment and call me 'Patrick,' mind--I'm too old to be treated +in that way. Well, and how do you get on here? What sort of a +woman is my sister-in-law? and what sort of a house is this?" + +Arnold burst out laughing. + +"Those are extraordinary questions for you to put to me," he +said. "You talk, Sir, as if you were a stranger here!" + +Sir Patrick touched a spring in the knob of his ivory cane. A +little gold lid flew up, and disclosed the snuff-box hidden +inside. He took a pinch, and chuckled satirically over some +passing thought, which he did not think it necessary to +communicate to his young friend. + +"I talk as if I was a stranger here, do I?" he resumed. "That's +exactly what I am. Lady Lundie and I correspond on excellent +terms; but we run in different grooves, and we see each other as +seldom as possible. My story," continued the pleasant old man, +with a charming frankness which leveled all differences of age +and rank between Arnold and himself, "is not entirely unlike +yours; though I _am_ old enough to be your grandfather. I was +getting my living, in my way (as a crusty old Scotch lawyer), +when my brother married again. His death, without leaving a son +by either of his wives, gave me a lift in the world, like you. +Here I am (to my own sincere regret) the present baronet. Yes, to +my sincere regret! All sorts of responsibilities which I never +bargained for are thrust on my shou lders. I am the head of the +family; I am my niece's guardian; I am compelled to appear at +this lawn-party--and (between ourselves) I am as completely out +of my element as a man can be. Not a single familiar face meets +_me_ among all these fine people. Do you know any body here?" + +"I have one friend at Windygates," said Arnold. "He came here +this morning, like you. Geoffrey Delamayn." + +As he made the reply, Miss Silvester appeared at the entrance to +the summer-house. A shadow of annoyance passed over her face when +she saw that the place was occupied. She vanished, unnoticed, and +glided back to the game. + +Sir Patrick looked at the son of his old friend, with every +appearance of being disappointed in the young man for the first +time. + +"Your choice of a friend rather surprises me," he said. + +Arnold artlessly accepted the words as an appeal to him for +information. + +"I beg your pardon, Sir--there's nothing surprising in it," he +returned. "We were school-fellows at Eton, in the old times. And +I have met Geoffrey since, when he was yachting, and when I was +with my ship. Geoffrey saved my life, Sir Patrick," he added, his +voice rising, and his eyes brightening with honest admiration of +his friend. "But for him, I should have been drowned in a +boat-accident. Isn't _that_ a good reason for his being a friend +of mine?" + +"It depends entirely on the value you set on your life," said Sir +Patrick. + +"The value I set on my life?" repeated Arnold. "I set a high +value on it, of course!" + +"In that case, Mr. Delamayn has laid you under an obligation." + +"Which I can never repay!" + +"Which you will repay one of these days, with interest--if I know +any thing of human nature," answered Sir Patrick. + +He said the words with the emphasis of strong conviction. They +were barely spoken when Mr. Delamayn appeared (exactly as Miss +Silvester had appeared) at the entrance to the summer-house. He, +too, vanished, unnoticed--like Miss Silvester again. But there +the parallel stopped. The Honorable Geoffrey's expression, on +discovering the place to be occupied, was, unmistakably an +expression of relief. + +Arnold drew the right inference, this time, from Sir Patrick's +language and Sir Patrick's tones. He eagerly took up the defense +of his friend. + +"You said that rather bitterly, Sir," he remarked. "What has +Geoffrey done to offend you?" + +"He presumes to exist--that's what he has done," retorted Sir +Patrick. "Don't stare! I am speaking generally. Your friend is +the model young Briton of the present time. I don't like the +model young Briton. I don't see the sense of crowing over him as +a superb national production, because he is big and strong, and +drinks beer with impunity, and takes a cold shower bath all the +year round. There is far too much glorification in England, just +now, of the mere physical qualities which an Englishman shares +with the savage and the brute. And the ill results are beginning +to show themselves already! We are readier than we ever were to +practice all that is rough in our national customs, and to excuse +all that is violent and brutish in our national acts. Read the +popular books--attend the popular amusements; and you will find +at the bottom of them all a lessening regard for the gentler +graces of civilized life, and a growing admiration for the +virtues of the aboriginal Britons!" + +Arnold listened in blank amazement. He had been the innocent +means of relieving Sir Patrick's mind of an accumulation of +social protest, unprovided with an issue for some time past. " +How hot you are over it, Sir!" he exclaimed, in irrepressible +astonishment. + +Sir Patrick instantly recovered himself. The genuine wonder +expressed in the young man's face was irresistible. + +"Almost as hot," he said, "as if I was cheering at a boat-race, +or wrangling over a betting-book--eh? Ah, we were so easily +heated when I was a young man! Let's change the subject. I know +nothing to the prejudice of your friend, Mr. Delamayn. It's the +cant of the day," cried Sir Patrick, relapsing again, "to take +these physically-wholesome men for granted as being +morally-wholesome men into the bargain. Time will show whether +the cant of the day is right.--So you are actually coming back to +Lady Lundie's after a mere flying visit to your own property? I +repeat, that is a most extraordinary proceeding on the part of a +landed gentleman like you. What's the attraction here--eh?" + +Before Arnold could reply Blanche called to him from the lawn. +His color rose, and he turned eagerly to go out. Sir Patrick +nodded his head with the air of a man who had been answered to +his own entire satisfaction. "Oh!" he said, "_that's_ the +attraction, is it?" + +Arnold's life at sea had left him singularly ignorant of the ways +of the world on shore. Instead of taking the joke, he looked +confused. A deeper tinge of color reddened his dark cheeks. "I +didn't say so," he answered, a little irritably. + +Sir Patrick lifted two of his white, wrinkled old fingers, and +good-humoredly patted the young sailor on the cheek. + +"Yes you did," he said. "In red letters." + +The little gold lid in the knob of the ivory cane flew up, and +the old gentleman rewarded himself for that neat retort with a +pinch of snuff. At the same moment Blanche made her appearance on +the scene. + +"Mr. Brinkworth," she said, "I shall want you directly. Uncle, +it's your turn to play." + +"Bless my soul!" cried Sir Patrick, "I forgot the game." He +looked about him, and saw his mallet and ball left waiting on the +table. "Where are the modern substitutes for conversation? Oh, +here they are!" He bowled the ball out before him on to the lawn, +and tucked the mallet, as if it was an umbrella, under his arm. +"Who was the first mistaken person," he said to himself, as he +briskly hobbled out, "who discovered that human life was a +serious thing? Here am I, with one foot in the grave; and the +most serious question before me at the present moment is, Shall I +get through the Hoops?" + +Arnold and Blanche were left together. + +Among the personal privileges which Nature has accorded to women, +there are surely none more enviable than their privilege of +always looking their best when they look at the man they love. +When Blanche's eyes turned on Arnold after her uncle had gone +out, not even the hideous fashionable disfigurements of the +inflated "chignon" and the tilted hat could destroy the triple +charm of youth, beauty, and tenderness beaming in her face. +Arnold looked at her--and remembered, as he had never remembered +yet, that he was going by the next train, and that he was leaving +her in the society of more than one admiring man of his own age. +The experience of a whole fortnight passed under the same roof +with her had proved Blanche to be the most charming girl in +existence. It was possible that she might not be mortally +offended with him if he told her so. He determined that he +_would_ tell her so at that auspicious moment. + +But who shall presume to measure the abyss that lies between the +Intention and the Execution? Arnold's resolution to speak was as +firmly settled as a resolution could be. And what came of it? +Alas for human infirmity! Nothing came of it but silence. + +"You don't look quite at your ease, Mr. Brinkworth," said +Blanche. "What has Sir Patrick been saying to you? My uncle +sharpens his wit on every body. He has been sharpening it on +_you?"_ + +Arnold began to see his way. At an immeasurable distance--but +still he saw it. + +"Sir Patrick is a terrible old man," he answered. "Just before +you came in he discovered one of my secrets by only looking in my +face." He paused, rallied his courage, pushed on at all hazards, +and came headlong to the point. "I wonder," he asked, bluntly, +"whether you take after your uncle?" + +Blanche instantly understood him. With time at her disposal, she +would have taken him lightly in hand, and led him, by fine +gradations, to the object in view. But in two minutes or less it +would be Arnold's turn to play. "He is going to make me an +offer," thought Blanche; "and he has about a minute to do it in. +He _shall_ do it!" + +"What!" she exclaimed, " do you think the gift of discovery runs +in the family?" + +Arnold made a plunge. + +"I wish it did! " he said. + +Blanche looked the picture of astonishment. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"If you could see in my face what Sir Patrick saw--" + +He had only to finish the sentence, and the thing was done. But +the tender passion perversely delights in raising obstacles to +itself. A sudden timidity seized on Arnold exactly at the wrong +moment. He stopped short, in the most awkward manner possible. + +Blanche heard from the lawn the blow of the mallet on the ball, +and the laughter of the company at some blunder of Sir Patrick's. +The precious seconds were slipping away. She could have boxed +Arnold on both ears for being so unreasonably afraid of her. + +"Well," she said, impatiently, "if I did look in your face, what +should I see?" + +Arnold made another plunge. He answered: "You would see that I +want a little encouragement." + +"From _me?_" + +"Yes--if you please." + +Blanche looked back over her shoulder. The summer-house stood on +an eminence, approached by steps. The players on the lawn beneath +were audible, but not visible. Any one of them might appear, +unexpectedly, at a moment's notice. Blanche listened. There was +no sound of approaching footsteps--there was a general hush, and +then another bang of the mallet on the ball and then a clapping +of hands. Sir Patrick was a privileged person. He had been +allowed, in all probability, to try again; and he was succeeding +at the second effort. This implied a reprieve of some seconds. +Blanche looked back again at Arnold. + +"Consider yourself encouraged," she whispered; and instantly +added, with the ineradicable female instinct of self-defense, +"within limits!" + +Arnold made a last plunge--straight to the bottom, this time. + +"Consider yourself loved," he burst out, "without any limits at +all." + +It was all over--the words were spoken--he had got her by the +hand. Again the perversity of the tender passion showed itself +more strongly than ever. The confession which Blanche had been +longing to hear, had barely escaped her lover's lips before +Blanche protested against it! She struggled to release her hand. +She formally appealed to Arnold to let her go. + +Arnold only held her the tighter. + +"Do try to like me a little!" he pleaded. "I am so fond of +_you!_" + +Who was to resist such wooing as this?--when you were privately +fond of him yourself, remember, and when you were certain to be +interrupted in another moment! Blanche left off struggling, and +looked up at her young sailor with a smile. + +"Did you learn this method of making love in the +merchant-service?" she inquired, saucily. + +Arnold persisted in contemplating his prospects from the serious +point of view. + +"I'll go back to the merchant-service," he said, "if I have made +you angry with me." + +Blanche administered another dose of encouragement. + +"Anger, Mr. Brinkworth, is one of the bad passions," she +answered, demurely. "A young lady who has been properly brought +up has no bad passions." + +There was a sudden cry from the players on the lawn--a cry for +"Mr. Brinkworth." Blanche tried to push him out. Arnold was +immovable. + +"Say something to encourage me before I go," he pleaded. "One +word will do. Say, Yes." + +Blanche shook her head. Now she had got him, the temptation to +tease him was irresistible. + +"Quite impossible!" she rejoined. "If you want any more +encouragement, you must speak to my uncle." + +"I'll speak to him," returned Arnold, "before I leave the house." + +There was another cry for "Mr. Brinkworth." Blanche made another +effort to push him out. + +"Go!" she said. "And mind you get through the hoop!" + +She had both hands on his shoulders--her face was close to +his--she was simply irresistible. Arnold caught her round the +waist and kissed her. Needless to tell him to get through the +hoop. He had surely got through it already! Blanche was +speechless. Arnold's last effort in the art of courtship had +taken away her breath. Before she could recover herself a sound +of approaching footsteps became plainly audible. Arnold gave her +a last squeeze, and ran out. + +She sank on the nearest chair, and closed her eyes in a flutter +of delicious confusion. + +The footsteps ascending to the summer-house came nearer. Blanche +opened her eyes, and saw Anne Silvester, standing alone, looking +at her. She sprang to her feet, and threw her arms impulsively +round Anne's neck. + +"You don't know what has happened," she whispered. "Wish me joy, +darling. He has said the words. He is mine for life!" + +All the sisterly love and sisterly confidence of many years was +expressed in that embrace, and in the tone in which the words +were spoken. The hearts of the mothers, in the past time, could +hardly have been closer to each other--as it seemed--than the +hearts of the daughters were now. And yet, if Blanche had looked +up in Anne's face at that moment, she must have seen that Anne's +mind was far away from her little love-story. + +"You know who it is?" she went on, after waiting for a reply. + +"Mr. Brinkworth?" + +"Of course! Who else should it be?" + +"And you are really happy, my love?" + +"Happy?" repeated Blanche "Mind! this is strictly between +ourselves. I am ready to jump out of my skin for joy. I love him! +I love him! I love him!" she cried, with a childish pleasure in +repeating the words. They were echoed by a heavy sigh. Blanche +instantly looked up into Anne's face. "What's the matter?" she +asked, with a sudden change of voice and manner. + +"Nothing." + +Blanche's observation saw too plainly to be blinded in that way. + +"There _is_ something the matter," she said. "Is it money?" she +added, after a moment's consideration. "Bills to pay? I have got +plenty of money, Anne. I'll lend you what you like." + +"No, no, my dear!" + +Blanche drew back, a little hurt. Anne was keeping her at a +distance for the first time in Blanche's experience of her. + +"I tell you all my secrets," she said. "Why are _you_ keeping a +secret from _me?_ Do you know that you have been looking anxious +and out of spirits for some time past? Perhaps you don't like Mr. +Brinkworth? No? you _do_ like him? Is it my marrying, then? I +believe it is! You fancy we shall be parted, you goose? As if I +could do without you! Of course, when I am married to Arnold, you +will come and live with us. That's quite understood between +us--isn't it?" + +Anne drew herself suddenly, almost roughly, away from Blanche, +and pointed out to the steps. + +"There is somebody coming," she said. "Look!" + +The person coming was Arnold. It was Blanche's turn to play, and +he had volunteered to fetch her. + +Blanche's attention--easily enough distracted on other +occasions--remained steadily fixed on Anne. + +"You are not yourself," she said, "and I must know the reason of +it. I will wait till to-night; and then you will tell me, when +you come into my room. Don't look like that! You _shall_ tell me. +And there's a kiss for you in the mean time!" + +She joined Arnold, and recovered her gayety the moment she looked +at him. + +"Well? Have you got through the hoops?" + +"Never mind the hoops. I have broken the ice with Sir Patrick." + +"What! before all the company!" + +"Of course not! I have made an appointment to speak to him here." + +They went laughing down the steps, and joined the game. + +Left alone, Anne Silvester walked slowly to the inner and darker +part of the summer-house. A glass, in a carved wooden frame, was +fixed against one of the side walls. She stopped and looked into +it--looked, shuddering, at the reflection of herself. + +"Is the time coming," she said, "when even Blanche will see what +I am in my face?" + +She turned aside from the glass. With a sudden cry of despair she +flung up her arms and laid them heavily against the wall, and +rested her head on them with her back to the light. At the same +moment a man's figure appeared--standing dark in the flood of +sunshine at the entrance to the summer-house. The man was +Geoffrey Delamayn. + + +CHAPTER THE FOURTH. + +THE TWO. + +He advanced a few steps, and stopped. Absorbed in herself, Anne +failed to hear him. She never moved. + +"I have come, as you made a point of it," he said, sullenly. +"But, mind you, it isn't safe." + +At the sound of his voice, Anne turned toward him. A change of +expression appeared in her face, as she slowly advanced from the +back of the summer-house, which revealed a likeness to her moth +er, not perceivable at other times. As the mother had looked, in +by-gone days, at the man who had disowned her, so the daughter +looked at Geoffrey Delamayn--with the same terrible composure, +and the same terrible contempt. + +"Well?" he asked. "What have you got to say to me?" + +"Mr. Delamayn," she answered, "you are one of the fortunate +people of this world. You are a nobleman's son. You are a +handsome man. You are popular at your college. You are free of +the best houses in England. Are you something besides all this? +Are you a coward and a scoundrel as well?" + +He started--opened his lips to speak--checked himself--and made +an uneasy attempt to laugh it off. "Come!" he said, "keep your +temper." + +The suppressed passion in her began to force its way to the +surface. + +"Keep my temper?" she repeated. "Do _you_ of all men expect me to +control myself? What a memory yours must be! Have you forgotten +the time when I was fool enough to think you were fond of me? and +mad enough to believe you could keep a promise?" + +He persisted in trying to laugh it off. "Mad is a strongish word +to use, Miss Silvester!" + +"Mad is the right word! I look back at my own infatuation--and I +can't account for it; I can't understand myself. What was there +in _you_," she asked, with an outbreak of contemptuous surprise, +"to attract such a woman as I am?" + +His inexhaustible good-nature was proof even against this. He put +his hands in his pockets, and said, "I'm sure I don't know." + +She turned away from him. The frank brutality of the answer had +not offended her. It forced her, cruelly forced her, to remember +that she had nobody but herself to blame for the position in +which she stood at that moment. She was unwilling to let him see +how the remembrance hurt her--that was all. A sad, sad story; but +it must be told. In her mother's time she had been the sweetest, +the most lovable of children. In later days, under the care of +her mother's friend, her girlhood had passed so harmlessly and so +happily--it seemed as if the sleeping passions might sleep +forever! She had lived on to the prime of her womanhood--and +then, when the treasure of her life was at its richest, in one +fatal moment she had flung it away on the man in whose presence +she now stood. + + + +Was she without excuse? No: not utterly without excuse. + +She had seen him under other aspects than the aspect which he +presented now. She had seen him, the hero of the river-race, the +first and foremost man in a trial of strength and skill which had +roused the enthusiasm of all England. She had seen him, the +central object of the interest of a nation; the idol of the +popular worship and the popular applause. _His_ were the arms +whose muscle was celebrated in the newspapers. _He_ was first +among the heroes hailed by ten thousand roaring throats as the +pride and flower of England. A woman, in an atmosphere of red-hot +enthusiasm, witnesses the apotheosis of Physical Strength. Is it +reasonable--is it just--to expect her to ask herself, in cold +blood, What (morally and intellectually) is all this worth?--and +that, when the man who is the object of the apotheosis, notices +her, is presented to her, finds her to his taste, and singles her +out from the rest? No. While humanity is humanity, the woman is +not utterly without excuse. + +Has she escaped, without suffering for it? + +Look at her as she stands there, tortured by the knowledge of her +own secret--the hideous secret which she is hiding from the +innocent girl, whom she loves with a sister's love. Look at her, +bowed down under a humiliation which is unutterable in words. She +has seen him below the surface--now, when it is too late. She +rates him at his true value--now, when her reputation is at his +mercy. Ask her the question: What was there to love in a man who +can speak to you as that man has spoken, who can treat you as +that man is treating you now? you so clever, so cultivated, so +refined--what, in Heaven's name, could _you_ see in him? Ask her +that, and she will have no answer to give. She will not even +remind you that he was once your model of manly beauty, too--that +you waved your handkerchief till you could wave it no longer, +when he took his seat, with the others, in the boat--that your +heart was like to jump out of your bosom, on that later occasion +when he leaped the last hurdle at the foot-race, and won it by a +head. In the bitterness of her remorse, she will not even seek +for _that_ excuse for herself. Is there no atoning suffering to +be seen here? Do your sympathies shrink from such a character as +this? Follow her, good friends of virtue, on the pilgrimage that +leads, by steep and thorny ways, to the purer atmosphere and the +nobler life. Your fellow-creature, who has sinned and has +repented--you have the authority of the Divine Teacher for it--is +your fellow-creature, purified and ennobled. A joy among the +angels of heaven--oh, my brothers and sisters of the earth, have +I not laid my hand on a fit companion for You? + + + +There was a moment of silence in the summer-house. The cheerful +tumult of the lawn-party was pleasantly audible from the +distance. Outside, the hum of voices, the laughter of girls, the +thump of the croquet-mallet against the ball. Inside, nothing but +a woman forcing back the bitter tears of sorrow and shame--and a +man who was tired of her. + +She roused herself. She was her mother's daughter; and she had a +spark of her mother's spirit. Her life depended on the issue of +that interview. It was useless--without father or brother to take +her part--to lose the last chance of appealing to him. She dashed +away the tears--time enough to cry, is time easily found in a +woman's existence--she dashed away the tears, and spoke to him +again, more gently than she had spoken yet. + +"You have been three weeks, Geoffrey, at your brother Julius's +place, not ten miles from here; and you have never once ridden +over to see me. You would not have come to-day, if I had not +written to you to insist on it. Is that the treatment I have +deserved?" + +She paused. There was no answer. + +"Do you hear me?" she asked, advancing and speaking in louder +tones. + +He was still silent. It was not in human endurance to bear his +contempt. The warning of a coming outbreak began to show itself +in her face. He met it, beforehand, with an impenetrable front. +Feeling nervous about the interview, while he was waiting in the +rose-garden--now that he stood committed to it, he was in full +possession of himself. He was composed enough to remember that he +had not put his pipe in its case--composed enough to set that +little matter right before other matters went any farther. He +took the case out of one pocket, and the pipe out of another. + +"Go on," he said, quietly. "I hear you." + +She struck the pipe out of his hand at a blow. If she had had the +strength she would have struck him down with it on the floor of +the summer-house. + +"How dare you use me in this way?" she burst out, vehemently. +"Your conduct is infamous. Defend it if you can!" + +He made no attempt to defend it. He looked, with an expression of +genuine anxiety, at the fallen pipe. It was beautifully +colored--it had cost him ten shillings. "I'll pick up my pipe +first," he said. His face brightened pleasantly--he looked +handsomer than ever--as he examined the precious object, and put +it back in the case. "All right," he said to himself. "She hasn't +broken it." His attitude as he looked at her again, was the +perfection of easy grace--the grace that attends on cultivated +strength in a state of repose. "I put it to your own +common-sense, " he said, in the most reasonable manner, "what's +the good of bullying me? You don't want them to hear you, out on +the lawn there--do you? You women are all alike. There's no +beating a little prudence into your heads, try how one may." + +There he waited, expecting her to speak. She waited, on her side, +and forced him to go on. + +"Look here," he said, "there's no need to quarrel, you know. I +don't want to break my promise; but what can I do ? I'm not the +eldest son. I'm dependent on my father for every farthing I have; +and I'm on bad terms with him already. Can't you see it yourself? +You're a lady, and all that, I know. But you're only a governess. +It's your interest as well as mine to wait till my father has +provided for me. Here it is in a nut-shell: if I marry you now, +I'm a ruined man." + +The answer came, this time. + +"You villain if you _don't_ marry me, I am a ruined woman!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know what I mean. Don't look at me in that way." + +"How do you expect me to look at a woman who calls me a villain +to my face?" + +She suddenly changed her tone. The savage element in +humanity--let the modern optimists who doubt its existence look +at any uncultivated man (no matter how muscular), woman (no +matter how beautiful), or child (no matter how young)--began to +show itself furtively in his eyes, to utter itself furtively in +his voice. Was he to blame for the manner in which he looked at +her and spoke to her? Not he! What had there been in the training +of _his_ life (at school or at college) to soften and subdue the +savage element in him? About as much as there had been in the +training of his ancestors (without the school or the college) +five hundred years since. + +It was plain that one of them must give way. The woman had the +most at stake--and the woman set the example of submission. + +"Don't be hard on me," she pleaded. "I don't mean to be hard on +_you._ My temper gets the better of me. You know my temper. I am +sorry I forgot myself. Geoffrey, my whole future is in your +hands. Will you do me justice?" + +She came nearer, and laid her hand persuasively on his arm. + +"Haven't you a word to say to me? No answer? Not even a look?" +She waited a moment more. A marked change came over her. She +turned slowly to leave the summer-house. "I am sorry to have +troubled you, Mr. Delamayn. I won't detain you any longer." + +He looked at her. There was a tone in her voice that he had never +heard before. There was a light in her eyes that he had never +seen in them before. Suddenly and fiercely he reached out his +hand, and stopped her. + +"Where are you going?" he asked. + +She answered, looking him straight in the face, "Where many a +miserable woman has gone before me. Out of the world." + +He drew her nearer to him, and eyed her closely. Even _his_ +intelligence discovered that he had brought her to bay, and that +she really meant it! + +"Do you mean you will destroy yourself?" he said. + +"Yes. I mean I will destroy myself." + +He dropped her arm. "By Jupiter, she _does_ mean it!" + +With that conviction in him, he pushed one of the chairs in the +summer-house to her with his foot, and signed to her to take it. +"Sit down!" he said, roughly. She had frightened him--and fear +comes seldom to men of his type. They feel it, when it does come, +with an angry distrust; they grow loud and brutal, in instinctive +protest against it. "Sit down!" he repeated. She obeyed him. +"Haven't you got a word to say to me?" he asked, with an oath. +No! there she sat, immovable, reckless how it ended--as only +women can be, when women's minds are made up. He took a turn in +the summer-house and came back, and struck his hand angrily on +the rail of her chair. "What do you want?" + +"You know what I want." + +He took another turn. There was nothing for it but to give way on +his side, or run the risk of something happening which might +cause an awkward scandal, and come to his father's ears. + +"Look here, Anne," he began, abruptly. "I have got something to +propose." + +She looked up at him. + +"What do you say to a private marriage?" + +Without asking a single question, without making objections, she +answered him, speaking as bluntly as he had spoken himself: + +"I consent to a private marriage." + +He began to temporize directly. + +"I own I don't see how it's to be managed--" + +She stopped him there. + +"I do!" + +"What!" he cried out, suspiciously. "You have thought of it +yourself, have you?" + +"Yes." + +"And planned for it?" + +"And planned for it!" + +"Why didn't you tell me so before?" + +She answered haughtily; insisting on the respect which is due to +women--the respect which was doubly due from _him,_ in her +position. + +"Because _you_ owed it to _me,_ Sir, to speak first." + +"Very well. I've spoken first. Will you wait a little?" + +"Not a day!" + +The tone was positive. There was no mistaking it. Her mind was +made up. + +"Where's the hurry?" + +"Have you eyes?" she asked, vehemently. "Have you ears? Do you +see how Lady Lundie looks at me? Do you hear how Lady Lundie +speaks to me? I am suspected by that woman. My shameful dismissal +from this house may be a question of a few hours." Her head sunk +on her bosom; she wrung her clasped hands as they rested on her +lap. "And, oh, Blanche!" she moaned to herself, the tears +gathering again, and falling, this time, unchecked. "Blanche, who +looks up to me! Blanche, who loves me! Blanche, who told me, in +this very place, that I was to live with her when she was +married!" She started up from the chair; the tears dried +suddenly; the hard despair settled again, wan and white, on her +face. "Let me go! What is death, compared to such a life as is +waiting for _me?_" She looked him over, in one disdainful glance +from head to foot; her voice rose to its loudest and firmest +tones." Why, even _you_; would have the courage to die if you +were in my place!" + +Geoffrey glanced round toward the lawn. + +"Hush!" he said. "They will hear you!" + +"Let them hear me! When _I_ am past hearing _them_, what does it +matter?" + +He put her back by main force on the chair. In another moment +they must have heard her, through all the noise and laughter of +the game. + +"Say what you want," he resumed, "and I'll do it. Only be +reasonable. I can't marry you to-day." + +"You can!" + +"What nonsense you talk! The house and grounds are swarming with +company. It can't be!" + +"It can! I have been thinking about it ever since we came to this +house. I have got something to propose to you. Will you hear it, +or not?" + +"Speak lower!" + +"Will you hear it, or not?" + +"There's somebody coming!" + +"Will you hear it, or not?" + +"The devil take your obstinacy! Yes!" + +The answer had been wrung from him. Still, it was the answer she +wanted--it opened the door to hope. The instant he had consented +to hear her her mind awakened to the serious necessity of +averting discovery by any third person who might stray idly into +the summer-house. She held up her hand for silence, and listened +to what was going forward on the lawn. + +The dull thump of the croquet-mallet against the ball was no +longer to be heard. The game had stopped. + +In a moment more she heard her own name called. An interval of +another instant passed, and a familiar voice said, "I know where +she is. I'll fetch her." + +She turned to Geoffrey, and pointed to the back of the +summer-house. + +"It's my turn to play," she said. "And Blanche is coming here to +look for me. Wait there, and I'll stop her on the steps." + +She went out at once. It was a critical moment. Discovery, which +meant moral-ruin to the woman, meant money-ruin to the man. +Geoffrey had not exaggerated his position with his father. Lord +Holchester had twice paid his debts, and had declined to see him +since. One more outrage on his father's rigid sense of propriety, +and he would be left out of the will as well as kept out of the +house. He looked for a means of retreat, in case there was no +escaping unperceived by the front entrance. A door--intended for +the use of servants, when picnics and gipsy tea-parties were +given in the summer-house--had been made in the back wall. It +opened outward, and it was locked. With his strength it was easy +to remove that obstacle. He put his shoulder to the door. At the +moment when he burst it open he felt a hand on his arm. Anne was +behind him, alone. + +"You may want it before long," she said, observing the open door, +without expressing any surprise, "You don't want it now. Another +person will play for me--I have told Blanche I am not well. Sit +down. I have secured a respite of five minutes, and I must make +the most of it. In that time, or less, Lady Lundie's suspicions +will bring her here--to see how I am. For the present, shut the +door." + +She seated herself, and pointed to a second chair. He took +it--with his eye on the closed door. + +"Come to the point!" he said, impatiently. "What is it?" + +"You can marry me privately to-day," she answered. "Lis ten--and +I will tell you how!" + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTH. + +THE PLAN. + +SHE took his hand, and began with all the art of persuasion that +she possessed. + +"One question, Geoffrey, before I say what I want to say. Lady +Lundie has invited you to stay at Windygates. Do you accept her +invitation? or do you go back to your brother's in the evening?" + +"I can't go back in the evening--they've put a visitor into my +room. I'm obliged to stay here. My brother has done it on +purpose. Julius helps me when I'm hard up--and bullies me +afterward. He has sent me here, on duty for the family. Somebody +must be civil to Lady Lundie--and I'm the sacrifice." + +She took him up at his last word. "Don't make the sacrifice," she +said. "Apologize to Lady Lundie, and say you are obliged to go +back." + +"Why?" + +"Because we must both leave this place to-day." + +There was a double objection to that. If he left Lady Lundie's, +he would fail to establish a future pecuniary claim on his +brother's indulgence. And if he left with Anne, the eyes of the +world would see them, and the whispers of the world might come to +his father's ears. + +"If we go away together," he said, "good-by to my prospects, and +yours too." + +"I don't mean that we shall leave together," she explained. "We +will leave separately--and I will go first." + +"There will be a hue and cry after you, when you are missed." + +"There will be a dance when the croquet is over. I don't +dance--and I shall not be missed. There will be time, and +opportunity to get to my own room. I shall leave a letter there +for Lady Lundie, and a letter"--her voice trembled for a +moment--"and a letter for Blanche. Don't interrupt me! I have +thought of this, as I have thought of every thing else. The +confession I shall make will be the truth in a few hours, if it's +not the truth now. My letters will say I am privately married, +and called away unexpectedly to join my husband. There will be a +scandal in the house, I know. But there will be no excuse for +sending after me, when I am under my husband's protection. So far +as you are personally concerned there are no discoveries to +fear--and nothing which it is not perfectly safe and perfectly +easy to do. Wait here an hour after I have gone to save +appearances; and then follow me." + +"Follow you?" interposed Geoffrey. "Where?" She drew her chair +nearer to him, and whispered the next words in his ear. + +"To a lonely little mountain inn--four miles from this." + +"An inn!" + +"Why not?" + +"An inn is a public place." + +A movement of natural impatience escaped her--but she controlled +herself, and went on as quietly as before: + +"The place I mean is the loneliest place in the neighborhood. You +have no prying eyes to dread there. I have picked it out +expressly for that reason. It's away from the railway; it's away +from the high-road: it's kept by a decent, respectable +Scotchwoman--" + +"Decent, respectable Scotchwomen who keep inns," interposed +Geoffrey, "don't cotton to young ladies who are traveling alone. +The landlady won't receive you." + +It was a well-aimed objection--but it missed the mark. A woman +bent on her marriage is a woman who can meet the objections of +the whole world, single-handed, and refute them all. + +"I have provided for every thing," she said, "and I have provided +for that. I shall tell the landlady I am on my wedding-trip. I +shall say my husband is sight-seeing, on foot, among the +mountains in the neighborhood--" + +"She is sure to believe that!" said Geoffrey. + +"She is sure to _dis_believe it, if you like. Let her! You have +only to appear, and to ask for your wife--and there is my story +proved to be true! She may be the most suspicious woman living, +as long as I am alone with her. The moment you join me, you set +her suspicions at rest. Leave me to do my part. My part is the +hard one. Will you do yours?" + +It was impossible to say No: she had fairly cut the ground from +under his feet. He shifted his ground. Any thing rather than say +Yes! + +"I suppose _you_ know how we are to be married?" he asked. "All I +can say is--_I_ don't." + +"You do!" she retorted. "You know that we are in Scotland. You +know that there are neither forms, ceremonies, nor delays in +marriage, here. The plan I have proposed to you secures my being +received at the inn, and makes it easy and natural for you to +join me there afterward. The rest is in our own hands. A man and +a woman who wish to be married (in Scotland) have only to secure +the necessary witnesses and the thing is done. If the landlady +chooses to resent the deception practiced on her, after that, the +landlady may do as she pleases. We shall have gained our object +in spite of her--and, what is more, we shall have gained it +without risk to _you._" + +"Don't lay it all on my shoulders," Geoffrey rejoined. "You women +go headlong at every thing. Say we are married. We must separate +afterward--or how are we to keep it a secret?" + +"Certainly. You will go back, of course, to your brother's house, +as if nothing had happened." + +"And what is to become of _you?_" + +"I shall go to London." + +"What are you to do in London?" + +"Haven't I already told you that I have thought of every thing? +When I get to London I shall apply to some of my mother's old +friends--friends of hers in the time when she was a musician. +Every body tells me I have a voice--if I had only cultivated it. +I _will_ cultivate it! I can live, and live respectably, as a +concert singer. I have saved money enough to support me, while I +am learning--and my mother's friends will help me, for her sake." + +So, in the new life that she was marking out, was she now +unconsciously reflecting in herself the life of her mother before +her. Here was the mother's career as a public singer, chosen (in +spite of all efforts to prevent it) by the child! Here (though +with other motives, and under other circumstances) was the +mother's irregular marriage in Ireland, on the point of being +followed by the daughter's irregular marriage in Scotland! And +here, stranger still, was the man who was answerable for it--the +son of the man who had found the flaw in the Irish marriage, and +had shown the way by which her mother was thrown on the world! +"My Anne is my second self. She is not called by her father's +name; she is called by mine. She is Anne Silvester as I was. Will +she end like Me?"--The answer to those words--the last words that +had trembled on the dying mother's lips--was coming fast. Through +the chances and changes of many years, the future was pressing +near--and Anne Silvester stood on the brink of it. + +"Well?" she resumed. "Are you at the end of your objections? Can +you give me a plain answer at last?" + +No! He had another objection ready as the words passed her lips. + +"Suppose the witnesses at the inn happen to know me?" he said. +"Suppose it comes to my father's ears in that way?" + +"Suppose you drive me to my death?" she retorted, starting to her +feet. "Your father shall know the truth, in that case--I swear +it!" + +He rose, on his side, and drew back from her. She followed him +up. There was a clapping of hands, at the same moment, on the +lawn. Somebody had evidently made a brilliant stroke which +promised to decide the game. There was no security now that +Blanche might not return again. There was every prospect, the +game being over, that Lady Lundie would be free. Anne brought the +interview to its crisis, without wasting a moment more. + +"Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn," she said. "You have bargained for a +private marriage, and I have consented. Are you, or are you not, +ready to marry me on your own terms?" + +"Give me a minute to think!" + +"Not an instant. Once for all, is it Yes, or No?" + +He couldn't say "Yes," even then. But he said what was equivalent +to it. He asked, savagely, "Where is the inn?" + +She put her arm in his, and whispered, rapidly, "Pass the road on +the right that leads to the railway. Follow the path over the +moor, and the sheep-track up the hill. The first house you come +to after that is the inn. You understand!" + +He nodded his head, with a sullen frown, and took his pipe out of +his pocket again. + +"Let it alone this time," he said, meeting her eye. "My mind's +upset. When a man's mind's upset, a man can't smoke. What's the +name of the place?" + +"Craig Fernie." + +"Who am I to ask for at the door?" + +"For your wife." + +"Suppose they want you to give your name when you get there?" + +"If I must give a name, I shall call myself Mrs., instead of +Miss, Silvester. But I shall do my best to avoid giving any name. +And you will do your best to avoid making a mistake, by only +asking for me as your wife. Is there any thing else you want to +know?" + +"Yes." + +"Be quick about it! What is it?" + +"How am I to know you have got away from here?" + +"If you don't hear from me in half an hour from the time when I +have left you, you may be sure I have got away. Hush!" + +Two voices, in conversation, were audible at the bottom of the +steps--Lady Lundie's voice and Sir Patrick's. Anne pointed to the +door in the back wall of the summer-house. She had just pulled it +to again, after Geoffrey had passed through it, when Lady Lundie +and Sir Patrick appeared at the top of the steps. + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTH. + +THE SUITOR. + +LADY LUNDIE pointed significantly to the door, and addressed +herself to Sir Patrick's private ear. + +"Observe!" she said. "Miss Silvester has just got rid of +somebody." + +Sir Patrick deliberately looked in the wrong direction, and (in +the politest possible manner) observed--nothing. + +Lady Lundie advanced into the summer-house. Suspicious hatred of +the governess was written legibly in every line of her face. +Suspicious distrust of the governess's illness spoke plainly in +every tone of her voice. + +"May I inquire, Miss Silvester, if your sufferings are relieved?" + +"I am no better, Lady Lundie." + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"I said I was no better." + +"You appear to be able to stand up. When _I_ am ill, I am not so +fortunate. I am obliged to lie down."' + +"I will follow your example, Lady Lundie. If you will be so good +as to excuse me, I will leave you, and lie down in my own room." + +She could say no more. The interview with Geoffrey had worn her +out; there was no spirit left in her to resist the petty malice +of the woman, after bearing, as she had borne it, the brutish +indifference of the man. In another moment the hysterical +suffering which she was keeping down would have forced its way +outward in tears. Without waiting to know whether she was excused +or not, without stopping to hear a word more, she left the +summer-house. + +Lady Lundie's magnificent black eyes opened to their utmost +width, and blazed with their most dazzling brightness. She +appealed to Sir Patrick, poised easily on his ivory cane, and +looking out at the lawn-party, the picture of venerable +innocence. + +"After what I have already told you, Sir Patrick, of Miss +Silvester's conduct, may I ask whether you consider _that_ +proceeding at all extraordinary?" + +The old gentleman touched the spring in the knob of his cane, and +answered, in the courtly manner of the old school: + +"I consider no proceeding extraordinary Lady Lundie, which +emanates from your enchanting sex." + +He bowed, and took his pinch. With a little jaunty flourish of +the hand, he dusted the stray grains of snuff off his finger and +thumb, and looked back again at the lawn-party, and became more +absorbed in the diversions of his young friends than ever. + +Lady Lundie stood her ground, plainly determined to force a +serious expression of opinion from her brother-in-law. Before she +could speak again, Arnold and Blanche appeared together at the +bottom of the steps. "And when does the dancing begin?" inquired +Sir Patrick, advancing to meet them, and looking as if he felt +the deepest interest in a speedy settlement of the question. + +"The very thing I was going to ask mamma," returned Blanche. "Is +she in there with Anne? Is Anne better?" + +Lady Lundie forthwith appeared, and took the answer to that +inquiry on herself. + +"Miss Silvester has retired to her room. Miss Silvester persists +in being ill. Have you noticed, Sir Patrick, that these half-bred +sort of people are almost invariably rude when they are ill?" + +Blanche's bright face flushed up. "If you think Anne a half-bred +person, Lady Lundie, you stand alone in your opinion. My uncle +doesn't agree with you, I'm sure." + +Sir Patrick's interest in the first quadrille became almost +painful to see. "_Do_ tell me, my dear, when _is_ the dancing +going to begin?" + +"The sooner the better," interposed Lady Lundie; "before Blanche +picks another quarrel with me on the subject of Miss Silvester." + +Blanche looked at her uncle. "Begin! begin! Don't lose time!" +cried the ardent Sir Patrick, pointing toward the house with his +cane. "Certainly, uncle! Any thing that _you_ wish!" With that +parting shot at her step-mother, Blanche withdrew. Arnold, who +had thus far waited in silence at the foot of the steps, looked +appealingly at Sir Patrick. The train which was to take him to +his newly inherited property would start in less than an hour; +and he had not presented himself to Blanche's guardian in the +character of Blanche's suitor yet! Sir Patrick's indifference to +all domestic claims on him--claims of persons who loved, and +claims of persons who hated, it didn't matter which--remained +perfectly unassailable. There he stood, poised on his cane, +humming an old Scotch air. And there was Lady Lundie, resolute +not to leave him till he had seen the governess with _her_ eyes +and judged the governess with _her_ mind. She returned to the +charge--in spite of Sir Patrick, humming at the top of the steps, +and of Arnold, waiting at the bottom. (Her enemies said, "No +wonder poor Sir Thomas died in a few months after his marriage!" +And, oh dear me, our enemies _are_ sometimes right!) + +"I must once more remind you, Sir Patrick, that I have serious +reason to doubt whether Miss Silvester is a fit companion for +Blanche. My governess has something on her mind. She has fits of +crying in private. She is up and walking about her room when she +ought to be asleep. She posts her own letters--_and,_ she has +lately been excessively insolent to Me. There is something wrong. +I must take some steps in the matter--and it is only proper that +I should do so with your sanction, as head of the family." + +"Consider me as abdicating my position, Lady Lundie, in your +favor." + +"Sir Patrick, I beg you to observe that I am speaking seriously, +and that I expect a serious reply." + +"My good lady, ask me for any thing else and it is at your +service. I have not made a serious reply since I gave up practice +at the Scottish Bar. At my age," added Sir Patrick, cunningly +drifting into generalities, "nothing is serious--except +Indigestion. I say, with the philosopher, 'Life is a comedy to +those who think, and tragedy to those who feel.' " He took his +sister-in-law's hand, and kissed it. "Dear Lady Lundie, why +feel?" + +Lady Lundie, who had never "felt" in her life, appeared +perversely determined to feel, on this occasion. She was +offended--and she showed it plainly. + +"When you are next called on, Sir Patrick, to judge of Miss +Silvester's conduct," she said, "unless I am entirely mistaken, +you will find yourself _compelled_ to consider it as something +beyond a joke." With those words, she walked out of the +summer-house--and so forwarded Arnold's interests by leaving +Blanche's guardian alone at last. + +It was an excellent opportunity. The guests were safe in the +house--there was no interruption to be feared, Arnold showed +himself. Sir Patrick (perfectly undisturbed by Lady Lundie's +parting speech) sat down in the summer-house, without noticing +his young friend, and asked himself a question founded on +profound observation of the female sex. "Were there ever two +women yet with a quarrel between them," thought the old +gentleman, "who didn't want to drag a man into it? Let them drag +_me_ in, if they can!" + +Arnold advanced a step, and modestly announced himself. "I hope I +am not in the way, Sir Patrick?" + +"In the way? of course not! Bless my soul, how serious the boy +looks! Are _you_ going to appeal to me as the head of the family +next?" + +It was exactly what Arnold was about to do. But it was plain that +if he admitted it just then Sir Patrick (for some unintelligible +reason) would decline to listen to him. He answered cautiously, +"I asked leave to consult you in private, Sir; and you kindly +said you would give me the opportunity before I left W +indygates?" + +"Ay! ay! to be sure. I remember. We were both engaged in the +serious business of croquet at the time--and it was doubtful +which of us did that business most clumsily. Well, here is the +opportunity; and here am I, with all my worldly experience, at +your service. I have only one caution to give you. Don't appeal +to me as 'the head of the family.' My resignation is in Lady +Lundie's hands." + +He was, as usual, half in jest, half in earnest. The wry twist of +humor showed itself at the corners of his lips. Arnold was at a +loss how to approach Sir Patrick on the subject of his niece +without reminding him of his domestic responsibilities on the one +hand, and without setting himself up as a target for the shafts +of Sir Patrick's wit on the other. In this difficulty, he +committed a mistake at the outset. He hesitated. + +"Don't hurry yourself," said Sir Patrick. "Collect your ideas. I +can wait! I can wait!" + +Arnold collected his ideas--and committed a second mistake. He +determined on feeling his way cautiously at first. Under the +circumstances (and with such a man as he had now to deal with), +it was perhaps the rashest resolution at which he could possibly +have arrived--it was the mouse attempting to outmanoeuvre the cat + +"You have been very kind, Sir, in offering me the benefit of your +experience," he began. "I want a word of advice." + +"Suppose you take it sitting?" suggested Sir Patrick. "Get a +chair." His sharp eyes followed Arnold with an expression of +malicious enjoyment. "Wants my advice?" he thought. "The young +humbug wants nothing of the sort--he wants my niece." + +Arnold sat down under Sir Patrick's eye, with a well-founded +suspicion that he was destined to suffer, before he got up again, +under Sir Patrick's tongue. + +"I am only a young man," he went on, moving uneasily in his +chair, "and I am beginning a new life--" + +"Any thing wrong with the chair?" asked Sir Patrick. "Begin your +new life comfortably, and get another." + +"There's nothing wrong with the chair, Sir. Would you--" + +"Would I keep the chair, in that case? Certainly." + +"I mean, would you advise me--" + +"My good fellow, I'm waiting to advise you. (I'm sure there's +something wrong with that chair. Why be obstinate about it? Why +not get another?)" + +"Please don't notice the chair, Sir Patrick--you put me out. I +want--in short--perhaps it's a curious question--" + +"I can't say till I have heard it," remarked Sir Patrick. +"However, we will admit it, for form's sake, if you like. Say +it's a curious question. Or let us express it more strongly, if +that will help you. Say it's the most extraordinary question that +ever was put, since the beginning of the world, from one human +being to another." + +"It's this!" Arnold burst out, desperately. "I want to be +married!" + +"That isn't a question," objected Sir Patrick. "It's an +assertion. You say, I want to be married. And I say, Just so! And +there's an end of it." + +Arnold's head began to whirl. "Would you advise me to get +married, Sir?" he said, piteously. "That's what I meant." + +"Oh! That's the object of the present interview, is it? Would I +advise you to marry, eh?" + +(Having caught the mouse by this time, the cat lifted his paw and +let the luckless little creature breathe again. Sir Patrick's +manner suddenly freed itself from any slight signs of impatience +which it might have hitherto shown, and became as pleasantly easy +and confidential as a manner could be. He touched the knob of his +cane, and helped himself, with infinite zest and enjoyment, to a +pinch of snuff.) + +"Would I advise you to marry?" repeated Sir Patrick. "Two courses +are open to us, Mr. Arnold, in treating that question. We may put +it briefly, or we may put it at great length. I am for putting it +briefly. What do you say?" + +"What you say, Sir Patrick." + +"Very good. May I begin by making an inquiry relating to your +past life?" + +"Certainly!" + +"Very good again. When you were in the merchant service, did you +ever have any experience in buying provisions ashore?" + +Arnold stared. If any relation existed between that question and +the subject in hand it was an impenetrable relation to _him_. He +answered, in unconcealed bewilderment, "Plenty of experience, +Sir." + +"I'm coming to the point," pursued Sir Patrick. "Don't be +astonished. I'm coming to the point. What did you think of your +moist sugar when you bought it at the grocer's?" + +"Think?" repeated Arnold. "Why, I thought it was moist sugar, to +be sure!" + +"Marry, by all means!" cried Sir Patrick. "You are one of the few +men who can try that experiment with a fair chance of success." + +The suddenness of the answer fairly took away Arnold's breath. +There was something perfectly electric in the brevity of his +venerable friend. He stared harder than ever. + +"Don't you understand me?" asked Sir Patrick. + +"I don't understand what the moist sugar has got to do with it, +Sir." + +"You don't see that?" + +"Not a bit!" + +"Then I'll show you," said Sir Patrick, crossing his legs, and +setting in comfortably for a good talk "You go to the tea-shop, +and get your moist sugar. You take it on the understanding that +it is moist sugar. But it isn't any thing of the sort. It's a +compound of adulterations made up to look like sugar. You shut +your eyes to that awkward fact, and swallow your adulterated mess +in various articles of food; and you and your sugar get on +together in that way as well as you can. Do you follow me, so +far?" + +Yes. Arnold (quite in the dark) followed, so far. + +"Very good," pursued Sir Patrick. "You go to the marriage-shop, +and get a wife. You take her on the understanding--let us +say--that she has lovely yellow hair, that she has an exquisite +complexion, that her figure is the perfection of plumpness, and +that she is just tall enough to carry the plumpness off. You +bring her home, and you discover that it's the old story of the +sugar over again. Your wife is an adulterated article. Her lovely +yellow hair is--dye. Her exquisite skin is--pearl powder. Her +plumpness is--padding. And three inches of her height are--in the +boot-maker's heels. Shut your eyes, and swallow your adulterated +wife as you swallow your adulterated sugar--and, I tell you +again, you are one of the few men who can try the marriage +experiment with a fair chance of success." + +With that he uncrossed his legs again, and looked hard at Arnold. +Arnold read the lesson, at last, in the right way. He gave up the +hopeless attempt to circumvent Sir Patrick, and--come what might +of it--dashed at a direct allusion to Sir Patrick's niece. + +"That may be all very true, Sir, of some young ladies," he said. +"There is one I know of, who is nearly related to you, and who +doesn't deserve what you have said of the rest of them." + +This was coming to the point. Sir Patrick showed his approval of +Arnold's frankness by coming to the point himself, as readily as +his own whimsical humor would let him. + +"Is this female phenomenon my niece?" he inquired. + +"Yes, Sir Patrick." + +"May I ask how you know that my niece is not an adulterated +article, like the rest of them?" + +Arnold's indignation loosened the last restraints that tied +Arnold's tongue. He exploded in the three words which mean three +volumes in every circulating library in the kingdom. + +"I love her." + +Sir Patrick sat back in his chair, and stretched out his legs +luxuriously. + +"That's the most convincing answer I ever heard in my life," he +said. + +"I'm in earnest!" cried Arnold, reckless by this time of every +consideration but one. "Put me to the test, Sir! put me to the +test!" + +"Oh, very well. The test is easily put." He looked at Arnold, +with the irrepressible humor twinkling merrily in his eyes, and +twitching sharply at the corners of his lips. "My niece has a +beautiful complexion. Do you believe in her complexion?" + +"There's a beautiful sky above our heads," returned Arnold. "I +believe in the sky." + +"Do you?" retorted Sir Patrick. "You were evidently never caught +in a shower. My niece has an immense quantity of hair. Are you +convinced that it all grows on her head?" + +"I defy any other woman's head to produce the like of it!" + +"My dear Arnold, you greatly underrate the existing resources of +the trade in hair! Look into the shop-windows. When + you next go to London pray look into the show-windows. In the +mean time, what do you think of my niece's figure?" + +"Oh, come! there can't be any doubt about _that!_ Any man, with +eyes in his head, can see it's the loveliest figure in the +world." + +Sir Patrick laughed softly, and crossed his legs again. + +"My good fellow, of course it is! The loveliest figure in the +world is the commonest thing in the world. At a rough guess, +there are forty ladies at this lawn-party. Every one of them +possesses a beautiful figure. It varies in price; and when it's +particularly seductive you may swear it comes from Paris. Why, +how you stare! When I asked you what you thought of my niece's +figure, I meant--how much of it comes from Nature, and how much +of it comes from the Shop? I don't know, mind! Do you?" + +"I'll take my oath to every inch of it!" + +"Shop?" + +"Nature!" + +Sir Patrick rose to his feet; his satirical humor was silenced at +last. + +"If ever I have a son," he thought to himself, "that son shall go +to sea!" He took Arnold's arm, as a preliminary to putting an end +to Arnold's suspense. "If I _ can_ be serious about any thing," +he resumed, "it's time to be serious with you. I am convinced of +the sincerity of your attachment. All I know of you is in your +favor, and your birth and position are beyond dispute. If you +have Blanche's consent, you have mine." Arnold attempted to +express his gratitude. Sir Patrick, declining to hear him, went +on. "And remember this, in the future. When you next want any +thing that I can give you, ask for it plainly. Don't attempt to +mystify _me_ on the next occasion, and I will promise, on my +side, not to mystify _you._ There, that's understood. Now about +this journey of yours to see your estate. Property has its +duties, Master Arnold, as well as its rights. The time is fast +coming when its rights will be disputed, if its duties are not +performed. I have got a new interest in you, and I mean to see +that you do your duty. It's settled you are to leave Windygates +to-day. Is it arranged how you are to go?" + +"Yes, Sir Patrick. Lady Lundie has kindly ordered the gig to take +me to the station, in time for the next train." + +"When are you to be ready?" + +Arnold looked at his watch. "In a quarter of an hour." + +"Very good. Mind you _are_ ready. Stop a minute! you will have +plenty of time to speak to Blanche when I have done with you. You +don't appear to me to be sufficiently anxious about seeing your +own property." + +"I am not very anxious to leave Blanche, Sir--that's the truth of +it." + +"Never mind Blanche. Blanche is not business. They both begin +with a B--and that's the only connection between them. I hear you +have got one of the finest houses in this part of Scotland. How +long are you going to stay in Scotland? How long are you going to +stay in it?" + +"I have arranged (as I have already told you, Sir) to return to +Windygates the day after to-morrow." + +"What! Here is a man with a palace waiting to receive him--and he +is only going to stop one clear day in it!" + +"I am not going to stop in it at all, Sir Patrick--I am going to +stay with the steward. I'm only wanted to be present to-morrow at +a dinner to my tenants--and, when that's over, there's nothing in +the world to prevent my coming back here. The steward himself +told me so in his last letter." + +"Oh, if the steward told you so, of course there is nothing more +to be said!" + +"Don't object to my coming back! pray don't, Sir Patrick! I'll +promise to live in my new house when I have got Blanche to live +in it with me. If you won't mind, I'll go and tell her at once +that it all belongs to her as well as to me." + +"Gently! gently! you talk as if you were married to her already!" + +"It's as good as done, Sir! Where's the difficulty in the way +now?" + +As he asked the question the shadow of some third person, +advancing from the side of the summer-house, was thrown forward +on the open sunlit space at the top of the steps. In a moment +more the shadow was followed by the substance--in the shape of a +groom in his riding livery. The man was plainly a stranger to the +place. He started, and touched his hat, when he saw the two +gentlemen in the summer-house. + +"What do you want?" asked Sir Patrick + +"I beg your pardon, Sir; I was sent by my master--" + +"Who is your master?" + +"The Honorable Mr. Delamayn, Sir." + +"Do you mean Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn?" asked Arnold. + +"No, Sir. Mr. Geoffrey's brother--Mr. Julius. I have ridden over +from the house, Sir, with a message from my master to Mr. +Geoffrey." + +"Can't you find him?" + +"They told me I should find him hereabouts, Sir. But I'm a +stranger, and don't rightly know where to look." He stopped, and +took a card out of his pocket. "My master said it was very +important I should deliver this immediately. Would you be pleased +to tell me, gentlemen, if you happen to know where Mr. Geoffrey +is?" + +Arnold turned to Sir Patrick. "I haven't seen him. Have you?" + +"I have smelt him," answered Sir Patrick, "ever since I have been +in the summer-house. There is a detestable taint of tobacco in +the air--suggestive (disagreeably suggestive to _my_ mind) of +your friend, Mr. Delamayn." + +Arnold laughed, and stepped outside the summer-house. + +"If you are right, Sir Patrick, we will find him at once." He +looked around, and shouted, "Geoffrey!" + +A voice from the rose-garden shouted back, "Hullo!" + +"You're wanted. Come here!" + +Geoffrey appeared, sauntering doggedly, with his pipe in his +mouth, and his hands in his pockets. + +"Who wants me?" + +"A groom--from your brother." + +That answer appeared to electrify the lounging and lazy athlete. +Geoffrey hurried, with eager steps, to the summer-house. He +addressed the groom before the man had time to speak With horror +and dismay in his face, he exclaimed: + +"By Jupiter! Ratcatcher has relapsed!" + +Sir Patrick and Arnold looked at each other in blank amazement. + +"The best horse in my brother's stables!" cried Geoffrey, +explaining, and appealing to them, in a breath. "I left written +directions with the coachman, I measured out his physic for three +days; I bled him," said Geoffrey, in a voice broken by +emotion--"I bled him myself, last night." + +"I beg your pardon, Sir--" began the groom. + +"What's the use of begging my pardon? You're a pack of infernal +fools! Where's your horse? I'll ride back, and break every bone +in the coachman's skin! Where's your horse?" + +"If you please, Sir, it isn't Ratcatcher. Ratcatcher's all +right." + +"Ratcatcher's all right? Then what the devil is it?" + +"It's a message, Sir." + +"About what?" + +"About my lord." + +"Oh! About my father?" He took out his handkerchief, and passed +it over his forehead, with a deep gasp of relief. "I thought it +was Ratcatcher," he said, looking at Arnold, with a smile. He put +his pipe into his mouth, and rekindled the dying ashes of the +tobacco. "Well?" he went on, when the pipe was in working order, +and his voice was composed again: "What's up with my father?" + +"A telegram from London, Sir. Bad news of my lord." + +The man produced his master's card. + +Geoffrey read on it (written in his brother's handwriting) these +words: + +"I have only a moment to scribble a line on my card. Our father +is dangerously ill--his lawyer has been sent for. Come with me to +London by the first train. Meet at the junction." + +Without a word to any one of the three persons present, all +silently looking at him, Geoffrey consulted his watch. Anne had +told him to wait half an hour, and to assume that she had gone if +he failed to hear from her in that time. The interval had +passed--and no communication of any sort had reached him. The +flight from the house had been safely accomplished. Anne +Silvester was, at that moment, on her way to the mountain inn. + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. + +THE DEBT. + +ARNOLD was the first who broke the silence. "Is your father +seriously ill?" he asked. + +Geoffrey answered by handing him the card. + +Sir Patrick, who had stood apart (while the question of +Ratcatcher's relapse was under discussion) sardonically studying +the manners and customs of modern English youth, now came +forward, and took his part in the proceedings. Lady Lundie +herself must have acknowledged that he spoke and acted as became +the head of the family, on t his occasion. + +"Am I right in supposing that Mr. Delamayn's father is +dangerously ill?" he asked, addressing himself to Arnold. + +"Dangerously ill, in London," Arnold answered. "Geoffrey must +leave Windygates with me. The train I am traveling by meets the +train his brother is traveling by, at the junction. I shall leave +him at the second station from here." + +"Didn't you tell me that Lady Lundie was going to send you to the +railway in a gig?" + +"Yes." + +"If the servant drives, there will be three of you--and there +will be no room." + +"We had better ask for some other vehicle," suggested Arnold. + +Sir Patrick looked at his watch. There was no time to change the +carriage. He turned to Geoffrey. "Can you drive, Mr. Delamayn?" + +Still impenetrably silent, Geoffrey replied by a nod of the head. + +Without noticing the unceremonious manner in which he had been +answered, Sir Patrick went on: + +"In that case, you can leave the gig in charge of the +station-master. I'll tell the servant that he will not be wanted +to drive." + +"Let me save you the trouble, Sir Patrick," said Arnold. + +Sir Patrick declined, by a gesture. He turned again, with +undiminished courtesy, to Geoffrey. "It is one of the duties of +hospitality, Mr. Delamayn, to hasten your departure, under these +sad circumstances. Lady Lundie is engaged with her guests. I will +see myself that there is no unnecessary delay in sending you to +the station." He bowed--and left the summer-house. + +Arnold said a word of sympathy to his friend, when they were +alone. + +"I am sorry for this, Geoffrey. I hope and trust you will get to +London in time." + +He stopped. There was something in Geoffrey's face--a strange +mixture of doubt and bewilderment, of annoyance and +hesitation--which was not to be accounted for as the natural +result of the news that he had received. His color shifted and +changed; he picked fretfully at his finger-nails; he looked at +Arnold as if he was going to speak--and then looked away again, +in silence. + +"Is there something amiss, Geoffrey, besides this bad news about +your father?" asked Arnold. + +"I'm in the devil's own mess," was the answer. + +"Can I do any thing to help you?" + +Instead of making a direct reply, Geoffrey lifted his mighty +hand, and gave Arnold a friendly slap on the shoulder which shook +him from head to foot. Arnold steadied himself, and +waited--wondering what was coming next. + +"I say, old fellow!" said Geoffrey. + +"Yes." + +"Do you remember when the boat turned keel upward in Lisbon +Harbor?" + +Arnold started. If he could have called to mind his first +interview in the summer-house with his father's old friend he +might have remembered Sir Patrick's prediction that he would +sooner or later pay, with interest, the debt he owed to the man +who had saved his life. As it was his memory reverted at a bound +to the time of the boat-accident. In the ardor of his gratitude +and the innocence of his heart, he almost resented his friend's +question as a reproach which he had not deserved. + +"Do you think I can ever forget," he cried, warmly, "that you +swam ashore with me and saved my life?" + +Geoffrey ventured a step nearer to the object that he had in +view. + +"One good turn deserves another," he said, "don't it?" + +Arnold took his hand. "Only tell me!" he eagerly rejoined--"only +tell me what I can do!" + +"You are going to-day to see your new place, ain't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Can you put off going till to-morrow?" + +"If it's any thing serious--of course I can!" + +Geoffrey looked round at the entrance to the summer-house, to +make sure that they were alone. + +"You know the governess here, don't you?" he said, in a whisper. + +"Miss Silvester?" + +"Yes. I've got into a little difficulty with Miss Silvester. And +there isn't a living soul I can ask to help me but _you._" + +"You know I will help you. What is it?" + +"It isn't so easy to say. Never mind--you're no saint either, are +you? You'll keep it a secret, of course? Look here! I've acted +like an infernal fool. I've gone and got the girl into a +scrape--" + +Arnold drew back, suddenly understanding him. + +"Good heavens, Geoffrey! You don't mean--" + +"I do! Wait a bit--that's not the worst of it. She has left the +house." + +"Left the house?" + +"Left, for good and all. She can't come back again." + +"Why not?" + +"Because she's written to her missus. Women (hang 'em!) never do +these things by halves. She's left a letter to say she's +privately married, and gone off to her husband. Her husband +is--Me. Not that I'm married to her yet, you understand. I have +only promised to marry her. She has gone on first (on the sly) to +a place four miles from this. And we settled I was to follow, and +marry her privately this afternoon. That's out of the question +now. While she's expecting me at the inn I shall be bowling along +to London. Somebody must tell her what has happened--or she'll +play the devil, and the whole business will burst up. I can't +trust any of the people here. I'm done for, old chap, unless you +help me." + +Arnold lifted his hands in dismay. "It's the most dreadful +situation, Geoffrey, I ever heard of in my life!" + +Geoffrey thoroughly agreed with him. "Enough to knock a man +over," he said, "isn't it? I'd give something for a drink of +beer." He produced his everlasting pipe, from sheer force of +habit. "Got a match?" he asked. + +Arnold's mind was too preoccupied to notice the question. + +"I hope you won't think I'm making light of your father's +illness," he said, earnestly. "But it seems to me--I must say +it--it seems to me that the poor girl has the first claim on +you." + +Geoffrey looked at him in surly amazement. + +"The first claim on me? Do you think I'm going to risk being cut +out of my father's will? Not for the best woman that ever put on +a petticoat!" + +Arnold's admiration of his friend was the solidly-founded +admiration of many years; admiration for a man who could row, +box, wrestle, jump--above all, who could swim--as few other men +could perform those exercises in contemporary England. But that +answer shook his faith. Only for the moment--unhappily for +Arnold, only for the moment. + +"You know best," he returned, a little coldly. "What can I do?" + +Geoffrey took his arm--roughly as he took every thing; but in a +companionable and confidential way. + +"Go, like a good fellow, and tell her what has happened. We'll +start from here as if we were both going to the railway; and I'll +drop you at the foot-path, in the gig. You can get on to your own +place afterward by the evening train. It puts you to no +inconvenience, and it's doing the kind thing by an old friend. +There's no risk of being found out. I'm to drive, remember! +There's no servant with us, old boy, to notice, and tell tales." + +Even Arnold began to see dimly by this time that he was likely to +pay his debt of obligation with interest--as Sir Patrick had +foretold. + +"What am I to say to her?" he asked. "I'm bound to do all I can +do to help you, and I will. But what am I to say?" + +It was a natural question to put. It was not an easy question to +answer. What a man, under given muscular circumstances, could do, +no person living knew better than Geoffrey Delamayn. Of what a +man, under given social circumstances, could say, no person +living knew less. + +"Say?" he repeated. "Look here! say I'm half distracted, and all +that. And--wait a bit--tell her to stop where she is till I write +to her." + +Arnold hesitated. Absolutely ignorant of that low and limited +form of knowledge which is called "knowledge of the world," his +inbred delicacy of mind revealed to him the serious difficulty of +the position which his friend was asking him to occupy as plainly +as if he was looking at it through the warily-gathered experience +of society of a man of twice his age. + +"Can't you write to her now, Geoffrey?" he asked. + +"What's the good of that?" + +"Consider for a minute, and you will see. You have trusted me +with a very awkward secret. I may be wrong--I never was mixed up +in such a matter before--but to present myself to this lady as +your messenger seems exposing her to a dreadful humiliation. Am I +to go and tell her to her face: 'I know what you are hiding from +the knowledge of all the world;' and is she to be expected to +endure it?" + +"Bosh!" said Geoffrey. "They can + endure a deal more than you think. I wish you had heard how she +bullied me, in this very place. My good fellow, you don't +understand women. The grand secret, in dealing with a woman, is +to take her as you take a cat, by the scruff of the neck--" + +"I can't face her--unless you will help me by breaking the thing +to her first. I'll stick at no sacrifice to serve you; but--hang +it!--make allowances, Geoffrey, for the difficulty you are +putting me in. I am almost a stranger; I don't know how Miss +Silvester may receive me, before I can open my lips." + +Those last words touched the question on its practical side. The +matter-of-fact view of the difficulty was a view which Geoffrey +instantly recognized and understood. + +"She has the devil's own temper," he said. "There's no denying +that. Perhaps I'd better write. Have we time to go into the +house?" + +"No. The house is full of people, and we haven't a minute to +spare. Write at once, and write here. I have got a pencil." + +"What am I to write on?" + +"Any thing--your brother's card." + +Geoffrey took the pencil which Arnold offered to him, and looked +at the card. The lines his brother had written covered it. There +was no room left. He felt in his pocket, and produced a +letter--the letter which Anne had referred to at the interview +between them--the letter which she had written to insist on his +attending the lawn-party at Windygates. + +"This will do," he said. "It's one of Anne's own letters to me. +There's room on the fourth page. If I write," he added, turning +suddenly on Arnold, "you promise to take it to her? Your hand on +the bargain!" + +He held out the hand which had saved Arnold's life in Lisbon +Harbor, and received Arnold's promise, in remembrance of that +time. + +"All right, old fellow. I can tell you how to find the place as +we go along in the gig. By-the-by, there's one thing that's +rather important. I'd better mention it while I think of it." + +"What is that?" + +"You mustn't present yourself at the inn in your own name; and +you mustn't ask for her by _her_ name." + +"Who am I to ask for?" + +"It's a little awkward. She has gone there as a married woman, in +case they're particular about taking her in--" + +"I understand. Go on." + +"And she has planned to tell them (by way of making it all right +and straight for both of us, you know) that she expects her +husband to join her. If I had been able to go I should have asked +at the door for 'my wife.' You are going in my place--" + +"And I must ask at the door for 'my wife,' or I shall expose Miss +Silvester to unpleasant consequences?" + +"You don't object?" + +"Not I! I don't care what I say to the people of the inn. It's +the meeting with Miss Silvester that I'm afraid of." + +"I'll put that right for you--never fear!" + +He went at once to the table and rapidly scribbled a few +lines--then stopped and considered. "Will that do?" he asked +himself. "No; I'd better say something spooney to quiet her." He +considered again, added a line, and brought his hand down on the +table with a cheery smack. "That will do the business! Read it +yourself, Arnold--it's not so badly written." + +Arnold read the note without appearing to share his friend's +favorable opinion of it. + +"This is rather short," he said. + +"Have I time to make it longer?" + +"Perhaps not. But let Miss Silvester see for herself that you +have no time to make it longer. The train starts in less than +half an hour. Put the time." + +"Oh, all right! and the date too, if you like." + +He had just added the desired words and figures, and had given +the revised letter to Arnold, when Sir Patrick returned to +announce that the gig was waiting. + +"Come!" he said. "You haven't a moment to lose!" + +Geoffrey started to his feet. Arnold hesitated. + +"I must see Blanche!" he pleaded. "I can't leave Blanche without +saying good-by. Where is she?" + +Sir Patrick pointed to the steps, with a smile. Blanche had +followed him from the house. Arnold ran out to her instantly. + +"Going?" she said, a little sadly. + +"I shall be back in two days," Arnold whispered. "It's all right! +Sir Patrick consents." + +She held him fast by the arm. The hurried parting before other +people seemed to be not a parting to Blanche's taste. + +"You will lose the train!" cried Sir Patrick. + +Geoffrey seized Arnold by the arm which Blanche was holding, and +tore him--literally tore him--away. The two were out of sight, in +the shrubbery, before Blanche's indignation found words, and +addressed itself to her uncle. + +"Why is that brute going away with Mr. Brinkworth?" she asked. + +"Mr. Delamayn is called to London by his father's illness," +replied Sir Patrick. "You don't like him?" + +"I hate him!" + +Sir Patrick reflected a little. + +"She is a young girl of eighteen," he thought to himself. "And I +am an old man of seventy. Curious, that we should agree about any +thing. More than curious that we should agree in disliking Mr. +Delamayn." + +He roused himself, and looked again at Blanche. She was seated at +the table, with her head on her hand; absent, and out of +spirits--thinking of Arnold, and set, with the future all smooth +before them, not thinking happily. + +"Why, Blanche! Blanche!" cried Sir Patrick, "one would think he +had gone for a voyage round the world. You silly child! he will +be back again the day after to-morrow." + +"I wish he hadn't gone with that man!" said Blanche. "I wish he +hadn't got that man for a friend!" + +"There! there! the man was rude enough I own. Never mind! he will +leave the man at the second station. Come back to the ball-room +with me. Dance it off, my dear--dance it off!" + +"No," returned Blanche. "I'm in no humor for dancing. I shall go +up stairs, and talk about it to Anne." + +"You will do nothing of the sort!" said a third voice, suddenly +joining in the conversation. + +Both uncle and niece looked up, and found Lady Lundie at the top +of the summer-house steps. + +"I forbid you to mention that woman's name again in my hearing," +pursued her ladyship. "Sir Patrick! I warned you (if you +remember?) that the matter of the governess was not a matter to +be trifled with. My worst anticipations are realized. Miss +Silvester has left the house!" + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. + +THE SCANDAL. + +IT was still early in the afternoon when the guests at Lady +Lundie's lawn-party began to compare notes together in corners, +and to agree in arriving at a general conviction that "some thing +was wrong." + +Blanche had mysteriously disappeared from her partners in the +dance. Lady Lundie had mysteriously abandoned her guests. Blanche +had not come back. Lady Lundie had returned with an artificial +smile, and a preoccupied manner. She acknowledged that she was +"not very well." The same excuse had been given to account for +Blanche's absence--and, again (some time previously), to explain +Miss Silvester's withdrawal from the croquet! A wit among the +gentlemen declared it reminded him of declining a verb. "I am not +very well; thou art not very well; she is not very well"--and so +on. Sir Patrick too! Only think of the sociable Sir Patrick being +in a state of seclusion--pacing up and down by himself in the +loneliest part of the garden. And the servants again! it had even +spread to the servants! _They_ were presuming to whisper in +corners, like their betters. The house-maids appeared, +spasmodically, where house maids had no business to be. Doors +banged and petticoats whisked in the upper regions. Something +wrong--depend upon it, something wrong! "We had much better go +away. My dear, order the carriage"--"Louisa, love, no more +dancing; your papa is going."--"_Good_-afternoon, Lady +Lundie!"--"Haw! thanks very much!"--"_So_ sorry for dear +Blanche!"--"Oh, it's been _too_ charming!" So Society jabbered +its poor, nonsensical little jargon, and got itself politely out +of the way before the storm came. + +This was exactly the consummation of events for which Sir Patrick +had been waiting in the seclusion of the garden. + +There was no evading the responsibility which was now thrust upon +him. Lady Lundie had announced it as a settled resolution, on her +part, to trace Anne to the place in which she had taken refuge, +and discover (purely in the interests of virtue) whether she +actually was married or not. Blanche (already overwrought by the +excitem ent of the day) had broken into an hysterical passion of +tears on hearing the news, and had then, on recovering, taken a +view of her own of Anne's flight from the house. Anne would never +have kept her marriage a secret from Blanche; Anne would never +have written such a formal farewell letter as she had written to +Blanche--if things were going as smoothly with her as she was +trying to make them believe at Windygates. Some dreadful trouble +had fallen on Anne and Blanche was determined (as Lady Lundie was +determined) to find out where she had gone, and to follow, and +help her. + +It was plain to Sir Patrick (to whom both ladies had opened their +hearts, at separate interviews) that his sister-in-law, in one +way, and his niece in another, were equally likely--if not duly +restrained--to plunge headlong into acts of indiscretion which +might lead to very undesirable results. A man in authority was +sorely needed at Windygates that afternoon--and Sir Patrick was +fain to acknowledge that he was the man. + +"Much is to be said for, and much is to be said against a single +life," thought the old gentleman, walking up and down the +sequestered garden-path to which he had retired , and applying +himself at shorter intervals than usual to the knob of his ivory +cane. "This, however, is, I take it, certain. A man's married +friends can't prevent him from leading the life of a bachelor, if +he pleases. But they can, and do, take devilish good care that he +sha'n't enjoy it!" + +Sir Patrick's meditations were interrupted by the appearance of a +servant, previously instructed to keep him informed of the +progress of events at the house. + +"They're all gone, Sir Patrick," said the man. + +"That's a comfort, Simpson. We have no visitors to deal with now, +except the visitors who are staying in the house?" + +"None, Sir Patrick." + +"They're all gentlemen, are they not?" + +"Yes, Sir Patrick." + +"That's another comfort, Simpson. Very good. I'll see Lady Lundie +first." + +Does any other form of human resolution approach the firmness of +a woman who is bent on discovering the frailties of another woman +whom she hates? You may move rocks, under a given set of +circumstances. But here is a delicate being in petticoats, who +shrieks if a spider drops on her neck, and shudders if you +approach her after having eaten an onion. Can you move _her,_ +under a given set of circumstances, as set forth above? Not you! + +Sir Patrick found her ladyship instituting her inquiries on the +same admirably exhaustive system which is pursued, in cases of +disappearance, by the police. Who was the last witness who had +seen the missing person? Who was the last servant who had seen +Anne Silvester? Begin with the men-servants, from the butler at +the top to the stable boy at the bottom. Go on with the +women-servants, from the cook in all her glory to the small +female child who weeds the garden. Lady Lundie had cross-examined +her way downward as far as the page, when Sir Patrick joined her. + +"My dear lady! pardon me for reminding you again, that this is a +free country, and that you have no claim whatever to investigate +Miss Silvester's proceedings after she has left your house." + +Lady Lundie raised her eyes, devotionally, to the ceiling. She +looked like a martyr to duty. If you had seen her ladyship at +that moment, you would have said yourself, "A martyr to duty." + +"No, Sir Patrick! As a Christian woman, that is not _my_ way of +looking at it. This unhappy person has lived under my roof. This +unhappy person has been the companion of Blanche. I am +responsible--I am, in a manner, morally responsible. I would give +the world to be able to dismiss it as you do. But no! I must be +satisfied that she _is_ married. In the interests of propriety. +For the quieting of my own conscience. Before I lay my head on my +pillow to-night, Sir Patrick--before I lay my head on my pillow +to-night!" + +"One word, Lady Lundie--" + +"No!" repeated her ladyship, with the most pathetic gentleness. +"You are right, I dare say, from the worldly point of view. I +can't take the worldly point of view. The worldly point of view +hurts me." She turned, with impressive gravity, to the page. "You +know where you will go, Jonathan, if you tell lies!" + +Jonathan was lazy, Jonathan was pimply, Jonathan was fat--_but_ +Jonathan was orthodox. He answered that he did know; and, what is +more, he mentioned the place. + +Sir Patrick saw that further opposition on his part, at that +moment, would be worse than useless. He wisely determined to +wait, before he interfered again, until Lady Lundie had +thoroughly exhausted herself and her inquiries. At the same +time--as it was impossible, in the present state of her +ladyship's temper, to provide against what might happen if the +inquiries after Anne unluckily proved successful--he decided on +taking measures to clear the house of the guests (in the +interests of all parties) for the next four-and-twenty hours. + +"I only want to ask you a question, Lady Lundie," he resumed. +"The position of the gentlemen who are staying here is not a very +pleasant one while all this is going on. If you had been content +to let the matter pass without notice, we should have done very +well. As things are, don't you think it will be more convenient +to every body if I relieve you of the responsibility of +entertaining your guests?" + +"As head of the family?" stipulated Lady Lundie. + +"As head of the family!" answered Sir Patrick. + +"I gratefully accept the proposal," said Lady Lundie. + +"I beg you won't mention it," rejoined Sir Patrick. + +He quitted the room, leaving Jonathan under examination. He and +his brother (the late Sir Thomas) had chosen widely different +paths in life, and had seen but little of each other since the +time when they had been boys. Sir Patrick's recollections (on +leaving Lady Lundie) appeared to have taken him back to that +time, and to have inspired him with a certain tenderness for his +brother's memory. He shook his head, and sighed a sad little +sigh. "Poor Tom!" he said to himself, softly, after he had shut +the door on his brother's widow. "Poor Tom!" + +On crossing the hall, he stopped the first servant he met, to +inquire after Blanche. Miss Blanche was quiet, up stairs, +closeted with her maid in her own room. "Quiet?" thought Sir +Patrick. "That's a bad sign. I shall hear more of my niece." + +Pending that event, the next thing to do was to find the guests. +Unerring instinct led Sir Patrick to the billiard-room. There he +found them, in solemn conclave assembled. wondering what they had +better do. Sir Patrick put them all at their ease in two minutes. + +"What do you say to a day's shooting to-morrow?" he asked. + +Every man present--sportsman or not--said yes. + +"You can start from this house," pursued Sir Patrick; "or you can +start from a shooting-cottage which is on the Windygates +property--among the woods, on the other side of the moor. The +weather looks pretty well settled (for Scotland), and there are +plenty of horses in the stables. It is useless to conceal from +you, gentlemen, that events have taken a certain unexpected turn +in my sister-in-law's family circle. You will be equally Lady +Lundie's guests, whether you choose the cottage or the house. For +the next twenty-four hours (let us say)--which shall it be?" + +Every body--with or without rheumatism--answered "the cottage." + +"Very good," pursued Sir Patrick, "It is arranged to ride over to +the shooting-cottage this evening, and to try the moor, on that +side, the first thing in the morning. If events here will allow +me, I shall be delighted to accompany you, and do the honors as +well as I can. If not, I am sure you will accept my apologies for +to-night, and permit Lady Lundie's steward to see to your comfort +in my place." + +Adopted unanimously. Sir Patrick left the guests to their +billiards, and went out to give the necessary orders at the +stables. + + + +In the mean time Blanche remained portentously quiet in the upper +regions of the house; while Lady Lundie steadily pursued her +inquiries down stairs. She got on from Jonathan (last of the +males, indoors) to the coachman (first of the males, +out-of-doors), and dug down, man by man, through that new +stratum, until she struck the stable-boy at the bottom . Not an +atom of information having been extracted in the house or out of +the house, from man or boy, her ladyship fell back on the women +next. She pulled the bell, and summoned the cook--Hester +Dethridge. + +A very remarkable-looking person entered the room. + +Elderly and quiet; scrupulously clean; eminently respectable; her +gray hair neat and smooth under her modest white cap; her eyes, +set deep in their orbits, looking straight at any person who +spoke to her--here, at a first view, was a steady, trust-worthy +woman. Here also on closer inspection, was a woman with the seal +of some terrible past suffering set on her for the rest of her +life. You felt it, rather than saw it, in the look of immovable +endurance which underlain her expression--in the deathlike +tranquillity which never disappeared from her manner. Her story +was a sad one--so far as it was known. She had entered Lady +Lundie's service at the period of Lady Lundie's marriage to Sir +Thomas. Her character (given by the clergyman of her parish) +described her as having been married to an inveterate drunkard, +and as having suffered unutterably during her husband's lifetime. +There were drawbacks to engaging her, now that she was a widow. +On one of the many occasions on which her husband had personally +ill-treated her, he had struck her a blow which had produced very +remarkable nervous results. She had lain insensible many days +together, and had recovered with the total loss of her speech. In +addition to this objection, she was odd, at times, in her manner; +and she made it a condition of accepting any situation, that she +should be privileged to sleep in a room by herself As a set-off +against all this, it was to be said, on the other side of the +question, that she was sober; rigidly honest in all her dealings; +and one of the best cooks in England. In consideration of this +last merit, the late Sir Thomas had decided on giving her a +trial, and had discovered that he had never dined in his life as +he dined when Hester Dethridge was at the head of his kitchen. +She remained after his death in his widow's service. Lady Lundie +was far from liking her. An unpleasant suspicion attached to the +cook, which Sir Thomas had over-looked, but which persons less +sensible of the immense importance of dining well could not fail +to regard as a serious objection to her. Medical men, consulted +about her case discovered certain physiological anomalies in it +which led them to suspect the woman of feigning dumbness, for +some reason best known to herself. She obstinately declined to +learn the deaf and dumb alphabet--on the ground that dumbness was +not associated with deafness in her case. Stratagems were +invented (seeing that she really did possess the use of her ears) +to entrap her into also using her speech, and failed. Efforts +were made to induce her to answer questions relating to her past +life in her husband's time. She flatly declined to reply to them, +one and all. At certain intervals, strange impulses to get a +holiday away from the house appeared to seize her. If she was +resisted, she passively declined to do her work. If she was +threatened with dismissal, she impenetrably bowed her head, as +much as to say, "Give me the word, and I go." Over and over +again, Lady Lundie had decided, naturally enough, on no longer +keeping such a servant as this; but she had never yet carried the +decision to execution. A cook who is a perfect mistress of her +art, who asks for no perquisites, who allows no waste, who never +quarrels with the other servants, who drinks nothing stronger +than tea, who is to be trusted with untold gold--is not a cook +easily replaced. In this mortal life we put up with many persons +and things, as Lady Lundie put up with her cook. The woman lived, +as it were, on the brink of dismissal--but thus far the woman +kept her place--getting her holidays when she asked for them +(which, to do her justice, was not often) and sleeping always (go +where she might with the family) with a locked door, in a room by +herself. + +Hester Dethridge advanced slowly to the table at which Lady +Lundie was sitting. A slate and pencil hung at her side, which +she used for making such replies as were not to be expressed by a +gesture or by a motion of the head. She took up the slate and +pencil, and waited with stony submission for her mistress to +begin. + +Lady Lundie opened the proceedings with the regular formula of +inquiry which she had used with all the other servants + +"Do you know that Miss Silvester has left the house?" + +The cook nodded her head affirmatively, + +"Do you know at what time she left it?" + +Another affirmative reply. The first which Lady Lundie had +received to that question yet. She eagerly went on to the next +inquiry. + +"Have you seen her since she left the house?" + +A third affirmative reply. + +"Where?" + +Hester Dethridge wrote slowly on the slate, in singularly firm +upright characters for a woman in her position of life, these +words: + +"On the road that leads to the railway. Nigh to Mistress Chew's +Farm." + +"What did you want at Chew's Farm?" + +Hester Dethridge wrote: "I wanted eggs for the kitchen, and a +breath of fresh air for myself." + +"Did Miss Silvester see you?" + +A negative shake of the head. + +"Did she take the turning that leads to the railway?" + +Another negative shake of the head. + +"She went on, toward the moor?" + +An affirmative reply. + +"What did she do when she got to the moor?" + +Hester Dethridge wrote: "She took the footpath which leads to +Craig Fernie." + +Lady Lundie rose excitedly to her feet. There was but one place +that a stranger could go to at Craig Fernie. "The inn!" exclaimed +her ladyship. "She has gone to the inn!" + +Hester Dethridge waited immovably. Lady Lundie put a last +precautionary question, in these words: + +"Have you reported what you have seen to any body else?" + +An affirmative reply. Lady Lundie had not bargained for that. +Hester Dethridge (she thought) must surely have misunderstood +her. + +"Do you mean that you have told somebody else what you have just +told me?" + +Another affirmative reply. + +"A person who questioned you, as I have done?" + +A third affirmative reply. + +"Who was it?" + +Hester Dethridge wrote on her slate: "Miss Blanche." + +Lady Lundie stepped back, staggered by the discovery that +Blanche's resolution to trace Anne Silvester was, to all +appearance, as firmly settled as her own. Her step-daughter was +keeping her own counsel, and acting on her own +responsibility--her step-daughter might be an awkward obstacle in +the way. The manner in which Anne had left the house had mortally +offended Lady Lundie. An inveterately vindictive woman, she had +resolved to discover whatever compromising elements might exist +in the governess's secret, and to make them public property (from +a paramount sense of duty, of course) among her own circle of +friends. But to do this--with Blanche acting (as might certainly +be anticipated) in direct opposition to her, and openly espousing +Miss Silvester's interests--was manifestly impossible. + +The first thing to be done--and that instantly--was to inform +Blanche that she was discovered, and to forbid her to stir in the +matter. + +Lady Lundie rang the bell twice--thus intimating, according to +the laws of the household, that she required the attendance of +her own maid. She then turned to the cook--still waiting her +pleasure, with stony composure, slate in hand. + +"You have done wrong," said her ladyship, severely. "I am your +mistress. You are bound to answer your mistress--" + +Hester Dethridge bowed her head, in icy acknowledgment of the +principle laid down--so far. + +The bow was an interruption. Lady Lundie resented it. + +"But Miss Blanche is _not_ your mistress," she went on, sternly. +"You are very much to blame for answering Miss Blanche's +inquiries about Miss Silvester." + +Hester Dethridge, perfectly unmoved, wrote her justification on +her slate, in two stiff sentences: "I had no orders _not_ to +answer. I keep nobody's secrets but my own." + +That reply settled the question of the cook's dismissal--the +question which had been pending for months past. + +"You are an insolent woman! I have borne with you long enough--I +will bear with you no longer. When your month is up, you go!" + +In those words Lady Lundie dismissed Hester Dethridge from her +service. + +Not the slightest change passed over the sinister tranquillity of +the cook. She bowed her head again, in acknowledgment of the +sentence pronounced on her--dropped her slate at her side--turned +about--and left the room. The woman was alive in the world, and +working in the world; and yet (so far as all human interests were +concerned) she was as completely out of the world as if she had +been screwed down in her coffin, and laid in her grave. + +Lady Lundie's maid came into the room as Hester left it. + +"Go up stairs to Miss Blanche," said her mistress, "and say I +want her here. Wait a minute!" She paused, and considered. +Blanche might decline to submit to her step-mother's interference +with her. It might be necessary to appeal to the higher authority +of her guardian. "Do you know where Sir Patrick is?" asked Lady +Lundie. + +"I heard Simpson say, my lady, that Sir Patrick was at the +stables." + +"Send Simpson with a message. My compliments to Sir Patrick--and +I wish to see him immediately." + + * * * * * * + +The preparations for the departure to the shooting-cottage were +just completed; and the one question that remained to be settled +was, whether Sir Patrick could accompany the party--when the +man-servant appeared with the message from his mistress. + +"Will you give me a quarter of an hour, gentlemen?" asked Sir +Patrick. "In that time I shall know for certain whether I can go +with you or not." + +As a matter of course, the guests decided to wait. The younger +men among them (being Englishmen) naturally occupied their +leisure time in betting. Would Sir Patrick get the better of the +domestic crisis? or would the domestic crisis get the better of +Sir Patrick? The domestic crisis was backed, at two to one, to +win. + +Punctually at the expiration of the quarter of an hour, Sir +Patrick reappeared. The domestic crisis had betrayed the blind +confidence which youth and inexperience had placed in it. Sir +Patrick had won the day. + +"Things are settled and quiet, gentlemen; and I am able to +accompany you," he said. "There are two ways to the +shooting-cottage. One--the longest--passes by the inn at Craig +Fernie. I am compelled to ask you to go with me by that way. +While you push on to the cottage, I must drop behind, and say a +word to a person who is staying at the inn." + +He had quieted Lady Lundie--he had even quieted Blanche. But it +was evidently on the condition that he was to go to Craig Fernie +in their places, and to see Anne Silvester himself. Without a +word more of explanation he mounted his horse, and led the way +out. The shooting-party left Windygates. + + +SECOND SCENE.--THE INN. + +CHAPTER THE NINTH. + +ANNE. + +"YE'LL just permit me to remind ye again, young leddy, that the +hottle's full--exceptin' only this settin'-room, and the +bedchamber yonder belonging to it." + +So spoke "Mistress Inchbare," landlady of the Craig Fernie Inn, +to Anne Silvester, standing in the parlor, purse in hand, and +offering the price of the two rooms before she claimed permission +to occupy them. + +The time of the afternoon was about the time when Geoffrey +Delamayn had started in the train, on his journey to London. +About the time also, when Arnold Brinkworth had crossed the moor, +and was mounting the first rising ground which led to the inn. + +Mistress Inchbare was tall and thin, and decent and dry. Mistress +Inchbare's unlovable hair clung fast round her head in wiry +little yellow curls. Mistress Inchbare's hard bones showed +themselves, like Mistress Inchbare's hard Presbyterianism, +without any concealment or compromise. In short, a +savagely-respectable woman who plumed herself on presiding over a +savagely-respectable inn. + +There was no competition to interfere with Mistress Inchbare. She +regulated her own prices, and made her own rules. If you objected +to her prices, and revolted from her rules, you were free to go. +In other words, you were free to cast yourself, in the capacity +of houseless wanderer, on the scanty mercy of a Scotch +wilderness. The village of Craig Fernie was a collection of +hovels. The country about Craig Fernie, mountain on one side and +moor on the other, held no second house of public entertainment, +for miles and miles round, at any point of the compass. No +rambling individual but the helpless British Tourist wanted food +and shelter from strangers in that part of Scotland; and nobody +but Mistress Inchbare had food and shelter to sell. A more +thoroughly independent person than this was not to be found on +the face of the hotel-keeping earth. The most universal of all +civilized terrors--the terror of appearing unfavorably in the +newspapers--was a sensation absolutely unknown to the Empress of +the Inn. You lost your temper, and threatened to send her bill +for exhibition in the public journals. Mistress Inchbare raised +no objection to your taking any course you pleased with it. "Eh, +man! send the bill whar' ye like, as long as ye pay it first. +There's nae such thing as a newspaper ever darkens my doors. +Ye've got the Auld and New Testaments in your bedchambers, and +the natural history o' Pairthshire on the coffee-room table--and +if that's no' reading eneugh for ye, ye may een gae back South +again, and get the rest of it there." + +This was the inn at which Anne Silvester had appeared alone, with +nothing but a little bag in her hand. This was the woman whose +reluctance to receive her she innocently expected to overcome by +showing her purse. + +"Mention your charge for the rooms," she said. "I am willing to +pay for them beforehand." + +Her majesty, Mrs. Inchbare, never even looked at her subject's +poor little purse. + +"It just comes to this, mistress," she answered. "I'm no' free to +tak' your money, if I'm no' free to let ye the last rooms left in +the hoose. The Craig Fernie hottle is a faimily hottle--and has +its ain gude name to keep up. Ye're ower-well-looking, my young +leddy, to be traveling alone." + +The time had been when Anne would have answered sharply enough. +The hard necessities of her position made her patient now. + +"I have already told you," she said, "my husband is coming here +to join me." She sighed wearily as she repeated her ready-made +story--and dropped into the nearest chair, from sheer inability +to stand any longer. + +Mistress Inchbare looked at her, with the exact measure of +compassionate interest which she might have shown if she had been +looking at a stray dog who had fallen footsore at the door of the +inn. + +"Weel! weel! sae let it be. Bide awhile, and rest ye. We'll no' +chairge ye for that--and we'll see if your husband comes. I'll +just let the rooms, mistress, to _him,_, instead o' lettin' them +to _you._ And, sae, good-morrow t' ye." With that final +announcement of her royal will and pleasure, the Empress of the +Inn withdrew. + +Anne made no reply. She watched the landlady out of the room--and +then struggled to control herself no longer. In her position, +suspicion was doubly insult. The hot tears of shame gathered in +her eyes; and the heart-ache wrung her, poor soul--wrung her +without mercy. + +A trifling noise in the room startled her. She looked up, and +detected a man in a corner, dusting the furniture, and apparently +acting in the capacity of attendant at the inn. He had shown her +into the parlor on her arrival; but he had remained so quietly in +the room that she had never noticed him since, until that moment. + +He was an ancient man--with one eye filmy and blind, and one eye +moist and merry. His head was bald; his feet were gouty; his nose +was justly celebrated as the largest nose and the reddest nose in +that part of Scotland. The mild wisdom of years was expressed +mysteriously in his mellow smile. In contact with this wicked +world, his manner revealed that happy mixture of two +extremes--the servility which just touches independence, and the +independence which just touches servility--attained by no men in +existence but Scotchmen. Enormous native impudence, which amused +but never offended; immeasurable cunning, masquerading habitually +under the double disguise of quaint prejudice and dry humor, were +the solid moral foundations on which the character of this +elderly person was built. No amount of whisky ever made him +drunk; and no violence of bell-ringing ever hurried his +movements. Such was the headwaiter at the Craig Fernie Inn; +known, far and wide, to local fame, as "Maister Bishopriggs, +Mistress Inchbare's right-hand man." + +"What are you doing there?" Anne asked, sharply. + +Mr. Bishopriggs turned himself about on his gouty feet; waved his +duster gently in the air; and looked at Anne, with a mild, +paternal smile. + +"Eh! Am just doostin' the things; and setin' the room in decent +order for ye." + +"For _me?_ Did you hear what the landlady said?" + +Mr. Bishopriggs advanced confidentially, and pointed with a very +unsteady forefinger to the purse which Anne still held in her +hand. + +"Never fash yoursel' aboot the landleddy!" said the sage chief of +the Craig Fernie waiters. "Your purse speaks for you, my lassie. +Pet it up!" cried Mr. Bishopriggs, waving temptation away from +him with the duster. "In wi' it into yer pocket! Sae long as the +warld's the warld, I'll uphaud it any where--while there's siller +in the purse, there's gude in the woman!" + +Anne's patience, which had resisted harder trials, gave way at +this. + +"What do you mean by speaking to me in that familiar manner?" she +asked, rising angrily to her feet again. + +Mr. Bishopriggs tucked his duster under his arm, and proceeded to +satisfy Anne that he shared the landlady's view of her position, +without sharing the severity of the landlady's principles. +"There's nae man livin'," said Mr. Bishopriggs, "looks with mair +indulgence at human frailty than my ain sel'. Am I no' to be +familiar wi' ye--when I'm auld eneugh to be a fether to ye, and +ready to be a fether to ye till further notice? Hech! hech! Order +your bit dinner lassie. Husband or no husband, ye've got a +stomach, and ye must een eat. There's fesh and there's fowl--or, +maybe, ye'll be for the sheep's head singit, when they've done +with it at the tabble dot?" + +There was but one way of getting rid of him: "Order what you +like," Anne said, "and leave the room." Mr. Bishopriggs highly +approved of the first half of the sentence, and totally +overlooked the second. + +"Ay, ay--just pet a' yer little interests in my hands; it's the +wisest thing ye can do. Ask for Maister Bishopriggs (that's me) +when ye want a decent 'sponsible man to gi' ye a word of advice. +Set ye doon again--set ye doon. And don't tak' the arm-chair. +Hech! hech! yer husband will be coming, ye know, and he's sure to +want it!" With that seasonable pleasantry the venerable +Bishopriggs winked, and went out. + +Anne looked at her watch. By her calculation it was not far from +the hour when Geoffrey might be expected to arrive at the inn, +assuming Geoffrey to have left Windygates at the time agreed on. +A little more patience, and the landlady's scruples would be +satisfied, and the ordeal would be at an end. + +Could she have met him nowhere else than at this barbarous house, +and among these barbarous people? + +No. Outside the doors of Windygates she had not a friend to help +her in all Scotland. There was no place at her disposal but the +inn; and she had only to be thankful that it occupied a +sequestered situation, and was not likely to be visited by any of +Lady Lundie's friends. Whatever the risk might be, the end in +view justified her in confronting it. Her whole future depended +on Geoffrey's making an honest woman of her. Not her future with +_him_--that way there was no hope; that way her life was wasted. +Her future with Blanche--she looked forward to nothing now but +her future with Blanche. + +Her spirits sank lower and lower. The tears rose again. It would +only irritate him if he came and found her crying. She tried to +divert her mind by looking about the room. + +There was very little to see. Except that it was solidly built of +good sound stone, the Craig Fernie hotel differed in no other +important respect from the average of second-rate English inns. +There was the usual slippery black sofa--constructed to let you +slide when you wanted to rest. There was the usual +highly-varnished arm-chair, expressly manufactured to test the +endurance of the human spine. There was the usual paper on the +walls, of the pattern designed to make your eyes ache and your +head giddy. There were the usual engravings, which humanity never +tires of contemplating. The Royal Portrait, in the first place of +honor. The next greatest of all human beings--the Duke of +Wellington--in the second place of honor. The third greatest of +all human beings--the local member of parliament--in the third +place of honor; and a hunting scene, in the dark. A door opposite +the door of admission from the passage opened into the bedroom; +and a window at the side looked out on the open space in front of +the hotel, and commanded a view of the vast expanse of the Craig +Fernie moor, stretching away below the rising ground on which the +house was built. + +Anne turned in despair from the view in the room to the view from +the window. Within the last half hour it had changed for the +worse. The clouds had gathered; the sun was hidden; the light on +the landscape was gray and dull. Anne turned from the window, as +she had turned from the room. She was just making the hopeless +attempt to rest her weary limbs on the sofa, when the sound of +voices and footsteps in the passage caught her ear. + +Was Geoffrey's voice among them? No. + +Were the strangers coming in? + +The landlady had declined to let her have the rooms: it was quite +possible that the strangers might be coming to look at them. +There was no knowing who they might be. In the impulse of the +moment she flew to the bedchamber and locked herself in. + +The door from the passage opened, and Arnold Brinkworth--shown in +by Mr. Bishopriggs--entered the sitting-room. + +"Nobody here!" exclaimed Arnold, looking round. "Where is she?" + +Mr. Bishopriggs pointed to the bedroom door. "Eh! yer good +leddy's joost in the bedchamber, nae doot!" + +Arnold started. He had felt no difficulty (when he and Geoffrey +had discussed the question at Windygates) about presenting +himself at the inn in the assumed character of Anne's husband. +But the result of putting the deception in practice was, to say +the least of it, a little embarrassing at first. Here was the +waiter describing Miss Silvester as his "good lady;" and leaving +it (most naturally and properly) to the "good lady's" husband to +knock at her bedroom door, and tell her that he was there. In +despair of knowing what else to do at the moment, Arnold asked +for the landlady, whom he had not seen on arriving at the inn. + +"The landleddy's just tottin' up the ledgers o' the hottle in her +ain room," answered Mr. Bishopriggs. "She'll be here anon--the +wearyful woman!--speerin' who ye are and what ye are, and takin' +a' the business o' the hoose on her ain pair o' shouthers." He +dropped the subject of the landlady, and put in a plea for +himself. "I ha' lookit after a' the leddy's little comforts, +Sir," he whispered. "Trust in me! trust in me!" + +Arnold's attention was absorbed in the very serious difficulty of +announcing his arrival to Anne. "How am I to get her out?" he +said to himself, with a look of perplexity directed at the +bedroom door. + +He had spoken loud enough for the waiter to hear him. Arnold's +look of perplexity was instantly reflected on the face of Mr. +Bishopriggs. The head-waiter at Craig Fernie possessed an immense +experience of the manners and customs of newly-married people on +their honeymoon trip. He had been a second father (with excellent +pecuniary results) to innumerable brides and bridegrooms. He knew +young married couples in all their varieties:--The couples who +try to behave as if they had been married for many years; the +couples who attempt no concealment, and take advice from +competent authorities about them. The couples who are bashfully +talkative before third persons; the couples who are bashfully +silent under similar circumstances. The couples who don't know +what to do, the couples who wish it was over; the couples who +must never be intruded upon without careful preliminary knocking +at the door; the couples who _can_ eat and drink in the intervals +of "bliss," and the other couples who _can't._ But the bridegroom +who stood he lpless on one side of the door, and the bride who +remained locked in on the other, were new varieties of the +nuptial species, even in the vast experience of Mr. Bishopriggs +himself. + +"Hoo are ye to get her oot?" he repeated. "I'll show ye hoo!" He +advanced as rapidly as his gouty feet would let him, and knocked +at the bedroom door. "Eh, my leddy! here he is in flesh and +bluid. Mercy preserve us! do ye lock the door of the nuptial +chamber in your husband's face?" + +At that unanswerable appeal the lock was heard turning in the +door. Mr. Bishopriggs winked at Arnold with his one available +eye, and laid his forefinger knowingly along his enormous nose. +"I'm away before she falls into your arms! Rely on it I'll no +come in again without knocking first!" + +He left Arnold alone in the room. The bedroom door opened slowly +by a few inches at a time. Anne's voice was just audible speaking +cautiously behind it. + +"Is that you, Geoffrey?" + +Arnold's heart began to beat fast, in anticipation of the +disclosure which was now close at hand. He knew neither what to +say or do--he remained silent. + +Anne repeated the question in louder tones: + +"Is that you?" + +There was the certain prospect of alarming her, if some reply was +not given. There was no help for it. Come what come might, Arnold +answered, in a whisper: + +"Yes." + +The door was flung wide open. Anne Silvester appeared on the +threshold, confronting him. + +"Mr. Brinkworth!!!" she exclaimed, standing petrified with +astonishment. + +For a moment more neither of them spoke. Anne advanced one step +into the sitting-room, and put the next inevitable question, with +an instantaneous change from surprise to suspicion. + +"What do you want here?" + +Geoffrey's letter represented the only possible excuse for +Arnold's appearance in that place, and at that time. + +"I have got a letter for you," he said--and offered it to her. + +She was instantly on her guard. They were little better than +strangers to each other, as Arnold had said. A sickening +presentiment of some treachery on Geoffrey's part struck cold to +her heart. She refused to take the letter. + +"I expect no letter," she said. "Who told you I was here?" She +put the question, not only with a tone of suspicion, but with a +look of contempt. The look was not an easy one for a man to bear. +It required a momentary exertion of self-control on Arnold's +part, before he could trust himself to answer with due +consideration for her. "Is there a watch set on my actions?" she +went on, with rising anger. "And are _you_ the spy?" + +"You haven't known me very long, Miss Silvester," Arnold +answered, quietly. "But you ought to know me better than to say +that. I am the bearer of a letter from Geoffrey." + +She was an the point of following his example, and of speaking of +Geoffrey by his Christian name, on her side. But she checked +herself, before the word had passed her lips. + +"Do you mean Mr. Delamayn?" she asked, coldly. + +"Yes." + +"What occasion have _I_ for a letter from Mr. Delamayn?" + +She was determined to acknowledge nothing--she kept him +obstinately at arm's-length. Arnold did, as a matter of instinct, +what a man of larger experience would have done, as a matter of +calculation--he closed with her boldly, then and there. + +"Miss Silvester! it's no use beating about the bush. If you won't +take the letter, you force me to speak out. I am here on a very +unpleasant errand. I begin to wish, from the bottom of my heart, +I had never undertaken it." + +A quick spasm of pain passed across her face. She was beginning, +dimly beginning, to understand him. He hesitated. His generous +nature shrank from hurting her. + +"Go on," she said, with an effort. + +"Try not to be angry with me, Miss Silvester. Geoffrey and I are +old friends. Geoffrey knows he can trust me--" + +"Trust you?" she interposed. "Stop!" + +Arnold waited. She went on, speaking to herself, not to him. + +"When I was in the other room I asked if Geoffrey was there. And +this man answered for him." She sprang forward with a cry of +horror. + +"Has he told you--" + +"For God's sake, read his letter!" + +She violently pushed back the hand with which Arnold once more +offered the letter. "You don't look at me! He _has_ told you!" + +"Read his letter," persisted Arnold. "In justice to him, if you +won't in justice to me." + +The situation was too painful to be endured. Arnold looked at +her, this time, with a man's resolution in his eyes--spoke to +her, this time, with a man's resolution in his voice. She took +the letter. + +"I beg your pardon, Sir," she said, with a sudden humiliation of +tone and manner, inexpressibly shocking, inexpressibly pitiable +to see. "I understand my position at last. I am a woman doubly +betrayed. Please to excuse what I said to you just now, when I +supposed myself to have some claim on your respect. Perhaps you +will grant me your pity? I can ask for nothing more." + +Arnold was silent. Words were useless in the face of such utter +self-abandonment as this. Any man living--even Geoffrey +himself--must have felt for her at that moment. + +She looked for the first time at the letter. She opened it on the +wrong side. "My own letter!" she said to herself. "In the hands +of another man!" + +"Look at the last page," said Arnold. + +She turned to the last page, and read the hurried penciled lines. +"Villain! villain! villain!" At the third repetition of the word, +she crushed the letter in the palm of her hand, and flung it from +her to the other end of the room. The instant after, the fire +that had flamed up in her died out. Feebly and slowly she reached +out her hand to the nearest chair, and sat down in it with her +back to Arnold. "He has deserted me!" was all she said. The words +fell low and quiet on the silence: they were the utterance of an +immeasurable despair. + +"You are wrong!" exclaimed Arnold. "Indeed, indeed you are wrong! +It's no excuse--it's the truth. I was present when the message +came about his father." + +She never heeded him, and never moved. She only repeated the +words + +"He has deserted me!" + +"Don't take it in that way!" pleaded Arnold--"pray don't! It's +dreadful to hear you; it is indeed. I am sure he has _not_ +deserted you." There was no answer; no sign that she heard him; +she sat there, struck to stone. It was impossible to call the +landlady in at such a moment as this. In despair of knowing how +else to rouse her, Arnold drew a chair to her side, and patted +her timidly on the shoulder. "Come!" he said, in his +single-hearted, boyish way. "Cheer up a little!" + +She slowly turned her head, and looked at him with a dull +surprise. + +"Didn't you say he had told you every thing?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"Don't you despise a woman like me?" + +Arnold's heart went back, at that dreadful question, to the one +woman who was eternally sacred to him--to the woman from whose +bosom he had drawn the breath of life. + +"Does the man live," he said, "who can think of his mother--and +despise women?" + +That answer set the prisoned misery in her free. She gave him her +hand--she faintly thanked him. The merciful tears came to her at +last. + +Arnold rose, and turned away to the window in despair. "I mean +well," he said. "And yet I only distress her!" + +She heard him, and straggled to compose herself "No," she +answered, "you comfort me. Don't mind my crying--I'm the better +for it." She looked round at him gratefully. "I won't distress +you, Mr. Brinkworth. I ought to thank you--and I do. Come back or +I shall think you are angry with me." Arnold went back to her. +She gave him her hand once more. "One doesn't understand people +all at once," she said, simply. "I thought you were like other +men--I didn't know till to-day how kind you could be. Did you +walk here?" she added, suddenly, with an effort to change the +subject. "Are you tired? I have not been kindly received at this +place--but I'm sure I may offer you whatever the inn affords." + +It was impossible not to feel for her--it was impossible not to +be interested in her. Arnold's honest longing to help her +expressed itself a little too openly when he spoke next. "All I +want, Miss Silvester, is to be of some service to you, if I can," +he said. "Is there any thing I can do to make your position here +more comfortable? You will stay at this place, + won't you? Geoffrey wishes it." + +She shuddered, and looked away. "Yes! yes!" she answered, +hurriedly. + +"You will hear from Geoffrey," Arnold went on, "to-morrow or next +day. I know he means to write." + +"For Heaven's sake, don't speak of him any more!" she cried out. +"How do you think I can look you in the face--" Her cheeks +flushed deep, and her eyes rested on him with a momentary +firmness. "Mind this! I am his wife, if promises can make me his +wife! He has pledged his word to me by all that is sacred!" She +checked herself impatiently. "What am I saying? What interest can +_you_ have in this miserable state of things? Don't let us talk +of it! I have something else to say to you. Let us go back to my +troubles here. Did you see the landlady when you came in?" + +"No. I only saw the waiter." + +"The landlady has made some absurd difficulty about letting me +have these rooms because I came here alone." + +"She won't make any difficulty now," said Arnold. "I have settled +that." + +"_You!_" + +Arnold smiled. After what had passed, it was an indescribable +relief to him to see the humorous side of his own position at the +inn. + +"Certainly," he answered. "When I asked for the lady who had +arrived here alone this afternoon--" + +"Yes." + +"I was told, in your interests, to ask for her as my wife." + +Anne looked at him--in alarm as well as in surprise. + +"You asked for me as your wife?" she repeated. + +"Yes. I haven't done wrong--have I? As I understood it, there was +no alternative. Geoffrey told me you had settled with him to +present yourself here as a married lady, whose husband was coming +to join her." + +"I thought of _him_ when I said that. I never thought of _you."_ + +"Natural enough. Still, it comes to the same thing (doesn't it?) +with the people of this house." + +"I don't understand you. " + +"I will try and explain myself a little better. Geoffrey said +your position here depended on my asking for you at the door (as +_he_ would have asked for you if he had come) in the character of +your husband." + +"He had no right to say that." + +"No right? After what you have told me of the landlady, just +think what might have happened if he had _not_ said it! I haven't +had much experience myself of these things. But--allow me to +ask--wouldn't it have been a little awkward (at my age) if I had +come here and inquired for you as a friend? Don't you think, in +that case, the landlady might have made some additional +difficulty about letting you have the rooms?" + +It was beyond dispute that the landlady would have refused to let +the rooms at all. It was equally plain that the deception which +Arnold had practiced on the people of the inn was a deception +which Anne had herself rendered necessary, in her own interests. +She was not to blame; it was clearly impossible for her to have +foreseen such an event as Geoffrey's departure for London. Still, +she felt an uneasy sense of responsibility--a vague dread of what +might happen next. She sat nervously twisting her handkerchief in +her lap, and made no answer. + +"Don't suppose I object to this little stratagem," Arnold went +on. "I am serving my old friend, and I am helping the lady who is +soon to be his wife." + +Anne rose abruptly to her feet, and amazed him by a very +unexpected question. + +"Mr. Brinkworth," she said, "forgive me the rudeness of something +I am about to say to you. When are you going away?" + +Arnold burst out laughing. + +"When I am quite sure I can do nothing more to assist you," he +answered. + +"Pray don't think of _me_ any longer." + +"In your situation! who else am I to think of?" + +Anne laid her hand earnestly on his arm, and answered: + +"Blanche!" + +"Blanche?" repeated Arnold, utterly at a loss to understand her. + +"Yes--Blanche. She found time to tell me what had passed between +you this morning before I left Windygates. I know you have made +her an offer: I know you are engaged to be married to her." + +Arnold was delighted to hear it. He had been merely unwilling to +leave her thus far. He was absolutely determined to stay with her +now. + +"Don't expect me to go after that!" he said. "Come and sit down +again, and let's talk about Blanche." + +Anne declined impatiently, by a gesture. Arnold was too deeply +interested in the new topic to take any notice of it. + +"You know all about her habits and her tastes," he went on, "and +what she likes, and what she dislikes. It's most important that I +should talk to you about her. When we are husband and wife, +Blanche is to have all her own way in every thing. That's my idea +of the Whole Duty of Man--when Man is married. You are still +standing? Let me give you a chair." + +It was cruel--under other circumstances it would have been +impossible--to disappoint him. But the vague fear of consequences +which had taken possession of Anne was not to be trifled with. +She had no clear conception of the risk (and it is to be added, +in justice to Geoffrey, that _he_ had no clear conception of the +risk) on which Arnold had unconsciously ventured, in undertaking +his errand to the inn. Neither of them had any adequate idea (few +people have) of the infamous absence of all needful warning, of +all decent precaution and restraint, which makes the marriage law +of Scotland a trap to catch unmarried men and women, to this day. +But, while Geoffrey's mind was incapable of looking beyond the +present emergency, Anne's finer intelligence told her that a +country which offered such facilities for private marriage as the +facilities of which she had proposed to take advantage in her own +case, was not a country in which a man could act as Arnold had +acted, without danger of some serious embarrassment following as +the possible result. With this motive to animate her, she +resolutely declined to take the offered chair, or to enter into +the proposed conversation. + +"Whatever we have to say about Blanche, Mr. Brinkworth, must be +said at some fitter time. I beg you will leave me." + +"Leave you!" + +"Yes. Leave me to the solitude that is best for me, and to the +sorrow that I have deserved. Thank you--and good-by." + +Arnold made no attempt to disguise his disappointment and +surprise. + +"If I must go, I must," he said, "But why are you in such a +hurry?" + +"I don't want you to call me your wife again before the people of +this inn." + +"Is _that_ all? What on earth are you afraid of?" + +She was unable fully to realize her own apprehensions. She was +doubly unable to express them in words. In her anxiety to produce +some reason which might prevail on him to go, she drifted back +into that very conversation about Blanche into which she had +declined to enter but the moment before. + +"I have reasons for being afraid," she said. "One that I can't +give; and one that I can. Suppose Blanche heard of what you have +done? The longer you stay here--the more people you see--the more +chance there is that she _might_ hear of it." + +"And what if she did?" asked Arnold, in his own straightforward +way. "Do you think she would be angry with me for making myself +useful to _you?_" + +"Yes," rejoined Anne, sharply, "if she was jealous of me." + +Arnold's unlimited belief in Blanche expressed itself, without +the slightest compromise, in two words: + +"That's impossible!" + +Anxious as she was, miserable as she was, a faint smile flitted +over Anne's face. + +"Sir Patrick would tell you, Mr. Brinkworth, that nothing is +impossible where women are concerned." She dropped her momentary +lightness of tone, and went on as earnestly as ever. "You can't +put yourself in Blanche's place--I can. Once more, I beg you to +go. I don't like your coming here, in this way! I don't like it +at all!" + +She held out her hand to take leave. At the same moment there was +a loud knock at the door of the room. + +Anne sank into the chair at her side, and uttered a faint cry of +alarm. Arnold, perfectly impenetrable to all sense of his +position, asked what there was to frighten her--and answered the +knock in the two customary words: + +"Come in!" + + +CHAPTER THE TENTH. + +MR. BISHOPRIGGS. + +THE knock at the door was repeated--a louder knock than before. + +"Are you deaf?" shouted Arnold. + +The door opened, little by little, an inch at a time. Mr. +Bishopriggs appeared mysteriously, with the cloth for dinner over +his arm, and with his second in c ommand behind him, bearing "the +furnishing of the table" (as it was called at Craig Fernie) on a +tray. + +"What the deuce were you waiting for?" asked Arnold. "I told you +to come in." + +"And _I_ tauld _you,_" answered Mr. Bishopriggs, "that I wadna +come in without knocking first. Eh, man!" he went on, dismissing +his second in command, and laying the cloth with his own +venerable hands, "d'ye think I've lived in this hottle in blinded +eegnorance of hoo young married couples pass the time when +they're left to themselves? Twa knocks at the door--and an unco +trouble in opening it, after that--is joost the least ye can do +for them! Whar' do ye think, noo, I'll set the places for you and +your leddy there?" + +Anne walked away to the window, in undisguised disgust. Arnold +found Mr. Bishopriggs to be quite irresistible. He answered, +humoring the joke, + +"One at the top and one at the bottom of the table, I suppose ?" + +"One at tap and one at bottom?" repeated Mr. Bishopriggs, in high +disdain. "De'il a bit of it! Baith yer chairs as close together +as chairs can be. Hech! hech!--haven't I caught 'em, after +goodness knows hoo many preleeminary knocks at the door, dining +on their husbands' knees, and steemulating a man's appetite by +feeding him at the fork's end like a child? Eh!" sighed the sage +of Craig Fernie, "it's a short life wi' that nuptial business, +and a merry one! A mouth for yer billin' and cooin'; and a' the +rest o' yer days for wondering ye were ever such a fule, and +wishing it was a' to be done ower again.--Ye'll be for a bottle +o' sherry wine, nae doot? and a drap toddy afterwards, to do yer +digestin' on?" + +Arnold nodded--and then, in obedience to a signal from Anne, +joined her at the window. Mr. Bishopriggs looked after them +attentively--observed that they were talking in whispers--and +approved of that proceeding, as representing another of the +established customs of young married couples at inns, in the +presence of third persons appointed to wait on them. + +"Ay! ay!" he said, looking over his shoulder at Arnold, "gae to +your deerie! gae to your deerie! and leave a' the solid business +o' life to Me. Ye've Screepture warrant for it. A man maun leave +fether and mother (I'm yer fether), and cleave to his wife. My +certie! 'cleave' is a strong word--there's nae sort o' doot aboot +it, when it comes to 'cleaving!' " He wagged his head +thoughtfully, and walked to the side-table in a corner, to cut +the bread. + +As he took up the knife, his one wary eye detected a morsel of +crumpled paper, lying lost between the table and the wall. It was +the letter from Geoffrey, which Anne had flung from her, in the +first indignation of reading it--and which neither she nor Arnold +had thought of since. + +"What's that I see yonder?" muttered Mr. Bishopriggs, under his +breath. "Mair litter in the room, after I've doosted and tidied +it wi' my ain hands!" + +He picked up the crumpled paper, and partly opened it. "Eh! +what's here? Writing on it in ink? and writing on it in pencil? +Who may this belong to?" He looked round cautiously toward Arnold +and Anne. They were both still talking in whispers, and both +standing with their backs to him, looking out of the window. +"Here it is, clean forgotten and dune with!" thought Mr. +Bishopriggs. "Noo what would a fule do, if he fund this? A fule +wad light his pipe wi' it, and then wonder whether he wadna ha' +dune better to read it first. And what wad a wise man do, in a +seemilar position?" He practically answered that question by +putting the letter into his pocket. It might be worth keeping, or +it might not; five minutes' private examination of it would +decide the alternative, at the first convenient opportunity. "Am +gaun' to breeng the dinner in!" he called out to Arnold. "And, +mind ye, there's nae knocking at the door possible, when I've got +the tray in baith my hands, and mairs the pity, the gout in baith +my feet." With that friendly warning, Mr. Bishopriggs went his +way to the regions of the kitchen. + +Arnold continued his conversation with Anne in terms which showed +that the question of his leaving the inn had been the question +once more discussed between them while they were standing at the +window. + +"You see we can't help it," he said. "The waiter has gone to +bring the dinner in. What will they think in the house, if I go +away already, and leave 'my wife' to dine alone?" + +It was so plainly necessary to keep up appearances for the +present, that there was nothing more to be said. Arnold was +committing a serious imprudence--and yet, on this occasion, +Arnold was right. Anne's annoyance at feeling that conclusion +forced on her produced the first betrayal of impatience which she +had shown yet. She left Arnold at the window, and flung herself +on the sofa. "A curse seems to follow me!" she thought, bitterly. +"This will end ill--and I shall be answerable for it!" + +In the mean time Mr. Bishopriggs had found the dinner in the +kitchen, ready, and waiting for him. Instead of at once taking +the tray on which it was placed into the sitting-room, he +conveyed it privately into his own pantry, and shut the door. + +"Lie ye there, my freend, till the spare moment comes--and I'll +look at ye again," he said, putting the letter away carefully in +the dresser-drawer. "Noo aboot the dinner o' they twa +turtle-doves in the parlor?" he continued, directing his +attention to the dinner tray. "I maun joost see that the +cook's;'s dune her duty--the creatures are no' capable o' +decidin' that knotty point for their ain selves." He took off one +of the covers, and picked bits, here and there, out of the dish +with the fork " Eh! eh! the collops are no' that bad!" He took +off another cover, and shook his head in solemn doubt. "Here's +the green meat. I doot green meat's windy diet for a man at my +time o' life!" He put the cover on again, and tried the next +dish. "The fesh? What the de'il does the woman fry the trout for? +Boil it next time, ye betch, wi' a pinch o' saut and a spunefu' +o' vinegar." He drew the cork from a bottle of sherry, and +decanted the wine. "The sherry wine?" he said, in tones of deep +feeling, holding the decanter up to the light. "Hoo do I know but +what it may be corkit? I maun taste and try. It's on my +conscience, as an honest man, to taste and try." He forthwith +relieved his conscience--copiously. There was a vacant space, of +no inconsiderable dimensions, left in the decanter. Mr. +Bishopriggs gravely filled it up from the water-bottle. "Eh ! +it's joost addin' ten years to the age o' the wine. The +turtle-doves will be nane the waur--and I mysel' am a glass o' +sherry the better. Praise Providence for a' its maircies!" Having +relieved himself of that devout aspiration, he took up the tray +again, and decided on letting the turtle-doves have their dinner. + + The conversation in the parlor (dropped for the moment) had been +renewed, in the absence of Mr. Bishopriggs. Too restless to +remain long in one place, Anne had risen again from the sofa, and +had rejoined Arnold at the window. + +"Where do your friends at Lady Lundie's believe you to be now?" +she asked, abruptly. + +"I am believed," replied Arnold, "to be meeting my tenants, and +taking possession of my estate." + +"How are you to get to your estate to-night?" + +"By railway, I suppose. By-the-by, what excuse am I to make for +going away after dinner? We are sure to have the landlady in here +before long. What will she say to my going off by myself to the +train, and leaving 'my wife' behind me?" + +"Mr. Brinkworth! that joke--if it _is_ a joke--is worn out!" + +"I beg your pardon," said Arnold. + +"You may leave your excuse to me," pursued Anne. "Do you go by +the up train, or the down?" + +"By the up train." + +The door opened suddenly; and Mr. Bishopriggs appeared with the +dinner. Anne nervously separated herself from Arnold. The one +available eye of Mr. Bishopriggs followed her reproachfully, as +he put the dishes on the table. + +"I warned ye baith, it was a clean impossibility to knock at the +door this time. Don't blame me, young madam--don't blame _me!"_ + +"Where will you sit?" asked Arnold, by way of diverting Anne's +attention from the familiarities of Father Bishopriggs. + +"Any where!" she answered, impatiently; snatchi ng up a chair, +and placing it at the bottom of the table. + +Mr. Bishopriggs politely, but firmly, put the chair back again in +its place. + +"Lord's sake! what are ye doin'? It's clean contrary to a' the +laws and customs o' the honey-mune, to sit as far away from your +husband as that!" + + He waved his persuasive napkin to one of the two chairs placed +close together at the table. + +Arnold interfered once more, and prevented another outbreak of +impatience from Anne. + +"What does it matter?" he said. "Let the man have his way." + +"Get it over as soon as you can," she returned. "I can't, and +won't, bear it much longer." + +They took their places at the table, with Father Bishopriggs +behind them, in the mixed character of major domo and guardian +angel. + +"Here's the trout!" he cried, taking the cover off with a +flourish. "Half an hour since, he was loupin' in the water. There +he lies noo, fried in the dish. An emblem o' human life for ye! +When ye can spare any leisure time from yer twa selves, meditate +on that." + +Arnold took up the spoon, to give Anne one of the trout. Mr. +Bishopriggs clapped the cover on the dish again, with a +countenance expressive of devout horror. + +"Is there naebody gaun' to say grace?" he asked. + +"Come! come!" said Arnold. "The fish is getting cold." + +Mr. Bishopriggs piously closed his available eye, and held the +cover firmly on the dish. "For what ye're gaun' to receive, may +ye baith be truly thankful!" He opened his available eye, and +whipped the cover off again. "My conscience is easy noo. Fall to! +Fall to!" + +"Send him away!" said Anne. "His familiarity is beyond all +endurance." + +"You needn't wait," said Arnold. + +"Eh! but I'm here to wait," objected Mr. Bishopriggs. "What's the +use o' my gaun' away, when ye'll want me anon to change the +plates for ye?" He considered for a moment (privately consulting +his experience) and arrived at a satisfactory conclusion as to +Arnold's motive for wanting to get rid of him. "Tak' her on yer +knee," he whispered in Arnold's ear, "as soon as ye like! Feed +him at the fork's end," he added to Anne, "whenever ye please! +I'll think of something else, and look out at the proaspect." He +winked--and went to the window. + +"Come! come! " said Arnold to Anne. "There's a comic side to all +this. Try and see it as I do." + +Mr. Bishopriggs returned from the window, and announced the +appearance of a new element of embarrassment in the situation at +the inn. + +"My certie!" he said, "it's weel ye cam' when ye did. It's ill +getting to this hottle in a storm." + +Anne started. and looked round at him. "A storm coming!" she +exclaimed. + +"Eh! ye're well hoosed here--ye needn't mind it. There's the +cloud down the valley," he added, pointing out of the window," +coming up one way, when the wind's blawing the other. The storm's +brewing, my leddy, when ye see that!" + +There was another knock at the door. As Arnold had predicted, the +landlady made her appearance on the scene. + +"I ha' just lookit in, Sir," said Mrs. Inchbare, addressing +herself exclusively to Arnold, "to see ye've got what ye want." + +"Oh! you are the landlady? Very nice, ma'am--very nice." + +Mistress Inchbare had her own private motive for entering the +room, and came to it without further preface. + +"Ye'll excuse me, Sir," she proceeded. "I wasna in the way when +ye cam' here, or I suld ha' made bauld to ask ye the question +which I maun e'en ask noo. Am I to understand that ye hire these +rooms for yersel', and this leddy here--yer wife?" + +Anne raised her head to speak. Arnold pressed her hand warningly, +under the table, and silenced her. + +"Certainly," he said. "I take the rooms for myself, and this lady +here--my wife!" + +Anne made a second attempt to speak. + +"This gentleman--" she began. + +Arnold stopped her for the second time. + +"This gentleman?" repeated Mrs. Inchbare, with a broad stare of +surprise. "I'm only a puir woman, my leddy--d'ye mean yer husband +here?" + +Arnold's warning hand touched Anne's, for the third time. +Mistress Inchbare's eyes remained fixed on her in merciless +inquiry. To have given utterance to the contradiction which +trembled on her lips would have been to involve Arnold (after all +that he had sacrificed for her) in the scandal which would +inevitably follow--a scandal which would be talked of in the +neighborhood, and which might find its way to Blanche's ears. +White and cold, her eyes never moving from the table, she +accepted the landlady's implied correction, and faintly repeated +the words: "My husband." + +Mistress Inchbare drew a breath of virtuous relief, and waited +for what Anne had to say next. Arnold came considerately to the +rescue, and got her out of the room. + +"Never mind," he said to Anne; "I know what it is, and I'll see +about it. She's always like this, ma'am, when a storm's coming," +he went on, turning to the landlady. "No, thank you--I know how +to manage her. Well send to you, if we want your assistance." + +"At yer ain pleasure, Sir, " answered Mistress Inchbare. She +turned, and apologized to Anne (under protest), with a stiff +courtesy. "No offense, my leddy! Ye'll remember that ye cam' here +alane, and that the hottle has its ain gude name to keep up." +Having once more vindicated "the hottle," she made the +long-desired move to the door, and left the room. + +"I'm faint!" Anne whispered. "Give me some water." + +There was no water on the table. Arnold ordered it of Mr. +Bishopriggs--who had remained passive in the back-ground (a model +of discreet attention) as long as the mistress was in the room. + +"Mr. Brinkworth!" said Anne, when they were alone, "you are +acting with inexcusable rashness. That woman's question was an +impertinence. Why did you answer it? Why did you force me--?" + +She stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Arnold insisted on +her drinking a glass of wine--and then defended himself with the +patient consideration for her which he had shown from the first. + +"Why didn't I have the inn door shut in your face"--he asked, +good humoredly--"with a storm coming on, and without a place in +which you can take refuge? No, no, Miss Silvester! I don't +presume to blame you for any scruples you may feel--but scruples +are sadly out of place with such a woman as that landlady. I am +responsible for your safety to Geoffrey; and Geoffrey expects to +find you here. Let's change the subject. The water is a long time +coming. Try another glass of wine. No? Well--here is Blanche's +health" (he took some of the wine himself), "in the weakest +sherry I ever drank in my life." As he set down his glass, Mr. +Bishopriggs came in with the water. Arnold hailed him +satirically. "Well? have you got the water? or have you used it +all for the sherry?" + +Mr. Bishopriggs stopped in the middle of the room, thunder-struck +at the aspersion cast on the wine. + +"Is that the way ye talk of the auldest bottle o' sherry wine in +Scotland?" he asked, gravely. "What's the warld coming to? The +new generation's a foot beyond my fathoming. The maircies o' +Providence, as shown to man in the choicest veentages o' Spain, +are clean thrown away on 'em." + +"Have you brought the water?" + +"I ha' brought the water--and mair than the water. I ha' brought +ye news from ootside. There's a company o' gentlemen on +horseback, joost cantering by to what they ca' the shootin' +cottage, a mile from this." + +"Well--and what have we got to do with it?" + +"Bide a wee! There's ane o' them has drawn bridle at the hottle, +and he's speerin' after the leddy that cam' here alane. The +leddy's your leddy, as sure as saxpence. I doot," said Mr. +Bishopriggs, walking away to the window, "_that's_ what ye've got +to do with it." + +Arnold looked at Anne. + +"Do you expect any body?" + +"Is it Geoffrey?" + +"Impossible. Geoffrey is on his way to London." + +"There he is, any way," resumed Mr. Bishopriggs, at the window. +"He's loupin' down from his horse. He's turning this way. Lord +save us!" he exclaimed, with a start of consternation, "what do I +see? That incarnate deevil, Sir Paitrick himself!" + +Arnold sprang to his feet. + +"Do you mean Sir Patrick Lundie?" + +Anne ran to the window. + +"It _is_ Sir Patrick!" she said. "Hide yourself before he comes +in!" + +"Hide myself?" + +"What will he think if he sees you with _me?"_ + +He was Blanche's g uardian, and he believed Arnold to be at that +moment visiting his new property. What he would think was not +difficult to foresee. Arnold turned for help to Mr. Bishopriggs. + +"Where can I go?" + +Mr. Bishopriggs pointed to the bedroom door. + +"Whar' can ye go? There's the nuptial chamber!" + +"Impossible!" + +Mr. Bishopriggs expressed the utmost extremity of human amazement +by a long whistle, on one note. + +"Whew! Is that the way ye talk o' the nuptial chamber already?" + +"Find me some other place--I'll make it worth your while." + +"Eh! there's my paintry! I trow that's some other place; and the +door's at the end o' the passage." + +Arnold hurried out. Mr. Bishopriggs--evidently under the +impression that the case before him was a case of elopement, with +Sir Patrick mixed up in it in the capacity of guardian--addressed +himself, in friendly confidence, to Anne. + +"My certie, mistress! it's ill wark deceivin' Sir Paitrick, if +that's what ye've dune. Ye must know, I was ance a bit clerk body +in his chambers at Embro--" + +The voice of Mistress Inchbare, calling for the head-waiter, rose +shrill and imperative from the regions of the bar. Mr. +Bishopriggs disappeared. Anne remained, standing helpless by the +window. It was plain by this time that the place of her retreat +had been discovered at Windygates. The one doubt to decide, now, +was whether it would be wise or not to receive Sir Patrick, for +the purpose of discovering whether he came as friend or enemy to +the inn. + + +CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. + +SIR PATRICK. + +THE doubt was practically decided before Anne had determined what +to do. She was still at the window when the sitting-room door was +thrown open, and Sir Patrick appeared, obsequiously shown in by +Mr. Bishopriggs. + +"Ye're kindly welcome, Sir Paitrick. Hech, Sirs! the sight of you +is gude for sair eyne." + +Sir Patrick turned and looked at Mr. Bishopriggs--as he might +have looked at some troublesome insect which he had driven out of +the window, and which had returned on him again. + +"What, you scoundrel! have you drifted into an honest employment +at last?" + +Mr. Bishopriggs rubbed his hands cheerfully, and took his tone +from his superior, with supple readiness + +"Ye're always in the right of it, Sir Paitrick! Wut, raal wut in +that aboot the honest employment, and me drifting into it. Lord's +sake, Sir, hoo well ye wear!" + +Dismissing Mr. Bishopriggs by a sign, Sir Patrick advanced to +Anne. + +"I am committing an intrusion, madam which must, I am afraid, +appear unpardonable in your eyes," he said. "May I hope you will +excuse me when I have made you acquainted with my motive?" + +He spoke with scrupulous politeness. His knowledge of Anne was of +the slightest possible kind. Like other men, he had felt the +attraction of her unaffected grace and gentleness on the few +occasions when he had been in her company--and that was all. If +he had belonged to the present generation he would, under the +circumstances, have fallen into one of the besetting sins of +England in these days--the tendency (to borrow an illustration +from the stage) to "strike an attitude" in the presence of a +social emergency. A man of the present period, in Sir Patrick's +position, would have struck an attitude of (what is called) +chivalrous respect; and would have addressed Anne in a tone of +ready-made sympathy, which it was simply impossible for a +stranger really to feel. Sir Patrick affected nothing of the +sort. One of the besetting sins of _his_ time was the habitual +concealment of our better selves--upon the whole, a far less +dangerous national error than the habitual advertisement of our +better selves, which has become the practice, public and +privately, of society in this age. Sir Patrick assumed, if +anything, less sympathy on this occasion than he really felt. +Courteous to all women, he was as courteous as usual to Anne--and +no more. + +"I am quite at a loss, Sir, to know what brings you to this +place. The servant here informs me that you are one of a party of +gentlemen who have just passed by the inn, and who have all gone +on except yourself." In those guarded terms Anne opened the +interview with the unwelcome visitor, on her side. + +Sir Patrick admitted the fact, without betraying the slightest +embarrassment. + +"The servant is quite right," he said. "I am one of the party. +And I have purposely allowed them to go on to the keeper's +cottage without me. Having admitted this, may I count on +receiving your permission to explain the motive of my visit?" + +Necessarily suspicious of him, as coming from Windygates, Anne +answered in few and formal words, as coldly as before. + +"Explain it, Sir Patrick, if you please, as briefly as possible." + +Sir Patrick bowed. He was not in the least offended; he was even +(if the confession may be made without degrading him in the +public estimation) privately amused. Conscious of having honestly +presented himself at the inn in Anne's interests, as well as in +the interests of the ladies at Windygates, it appealed to his +sense of humor to find himself kept at arm's-length by the very +woman whom he had come to benefit. The temptation was strong on +him to treat his errand from his own whimsical point of view. He +gravely took out his watch, and noted the time to a second, +before he spoke again. + +"I have an event to relate in which you are interested," he said. +"And I have two messages to deliver, which I hope you will not +object to receive. The event I undertake to describe in one +minute. The messages I promise to dispose of in two minutes more. +Total duration of this intrusion on your time--three minutes." + +He placed a chair for Anne, and waited until she had permitted +him, by a sign, to take a second chair for himself. + +"We will begin with the event," he resumed. "Your arrival at this +place is no secret at Windygates. You were seen on the foot-road +to Craig Fernie by one of the female servants. And the inference +naturally drawn is, that you were on your way to the inn. It may +be important for you to know this; and I have taken the liberty +of mentioning it accordingly." He consulted his watch. "Event +related. Time, one minute." + +He had excited her curiosity, to begin with. "Which of the women +saw me?" she asked, impulsively. + +Sir Patrick (watch in hand) declined to prolong the interview by +answering any incidental inquiries which might arise in the +course of it. + +"Pardon me," he rejoined; "I am pledged to occupy three minutes +only. I have no room for the woman. With your kind permission, I +will get on to the messages next." + +Anne remained silent. Sir Patrick went on. + +"First message: 'Lady Lundie's compliments to her step-daughter's +late governess--with whose married name she is not acquainted. +Lady Lundie regrets to say that Sir Patrick, as head of the +family, has threatened to return to Edinburgh, unless she +consents to be guided by his advice in the course she pursues +with the late governess. Lady Lundie, accordingly, foregoes her +intention of calling at the Craig Fernie inn, to express her +sentiments and make her inquiries in person, and commits to Sir +Patrick the duty of expressing her sentiments; reserving to +herself the right of making her inquiries at the next convenient +opportunity. Through the medium of her brother-in-law, she begs +to inform the late governess that all intercourse is at an end +between them, and that she declines to act as reference in case +of future emergency.'--Message textually correct. Expressive of +Lady Lundie's view of your sudden departure from the house. Time, +two minutes." + +Anne's color rose. Anne's pride was up in arms on the spot. + +"The impertinence of Lady Lundie's message is no more than I +should have expected from her," she said. "I am only surprised at +Sir Patrick's delivering it." + +"Sir Patrick's motives will appear presently," rejoined the +incorrigible old gentleman. "Second message: 'Blanche's fondest +love. Is dying to be acquainted with Anne's husband, and to be +informed of Anne's married name. Feels indescribable anxiety and +apprehension on Anne's account. Insists on hearing from Anne +immediately. Longs, as she never longed for any thing yet, to +order her pony-chaise and drive full gallop to the inn. Yields, +under irresistible pressure, to t he exertion of her guardian's +authority, and commits the expression of her feelings to Sir +Patrick, who is a born tyrant, and doesn't in the least mind +breaking other people's hearts.' Sir Patrick, speaking for +himself, places his sister-in-law's view and his niece's view, +side by side, before the lady whom he has now the honor of +addressing, and on whose confidence he is especially careful not +to intrude. Reminds the lady that his influence at Windygates, +however strenuously he may exert it, is not likely to last +forever. Requests her to consider whether his sister-in-law's +view and his niece's view in collision, may not lead to very +undesirable domestic results; and leaves her to take the course +which seems best to herself under those circumstances.--Second +message delivered textually. Time, three minutes. A storm coming +on. A quarter of an hour's ride from here to the +shooting-cottage. Madam, I wish you good-evening." + +He bowed lower than ever--and, without a word more, quietly left +the room. + +Anne's first impulse was (excusably enough, poor soul) an impulse +of resentment. + +"Thank you, Sir Patrick!" she said, with a bitter look at the +closing door. "The sympathy of society with a friendless woman +could hardly have been expressed in a more amusing way!" + +The little irritation of the moment passed off with the moment. +Anne's own intelligence and good sense showed her the position in +its truer light. + +She recognized in Sir Patrick's abrupt departure Sir Patrick's +considerate resolution to spare her from entering into any +details on the subject of her position at the inn. He had given +her a friendly warning; and he had delicately left her to decide +for herself as to the assistance which she might render him in +maintaining tranquillity at Windygates. She went at once to a +side-table in the room, on which writing materials were placed, +and sat down to write to Blanche. + +"I can do nothing with Lady Lundie," she thought. "But I have +more influence than any body else over Blanche and I can prevent +the collision between them which Sir Patrick dreads." + +She began the letter. "My dearest Blanche, I have seen Sir +Patrick, and he has given me your message. I will set your mind +at ease about me as soon as I can. But, before I say any thing +else, let me entreat you, as the greatest favor you can do to +your sister and your friend, not to enter into any disputes about +me with Lady Lundie, and not to commit the imprudence--the +useless imprudence, my love--of coming here." She stopped--the +paper swam before her eyes. "My own darling!" she thought, "who +could have foreseen that I should ever shrink from the thought of +seeing _you?"_ She sighed, and dipped the pen in the ink, and +went on with the letter. + +The sky darkened rapidly as the evening fell. The wind swept in +fainter and fainter gusts across the dreary moor. Far and wide +over the face of Nature the stillness was fast falling which +tells of a coming storm. + + +CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. + +ARNOLD. + +MEANWHILE Arnold remained shut up in the head-waiter's +pantry--chafing secretly at the position forced upon him. + +He was, for the first time in his life, in hiding from another +person, and that person a man. Twice--stung to it by the +inevitable loss of self-respect which his situation +occasioned--he had gone to the door, determined to face Sir +Patrick boldly; and twice he had abandoned the idea, in mercy to +Anne. It would have been impossible for him to set himself right +with Blanche's guardian without betraying the unhappy woman whose +secret he was bound in honor to keep. "I wish to Heaven I had +never come here!" was the useless aspiration that escaped him, as +he doggedly seated himself on the dresser to wait till Sir +Patrick's departure set him free. + +After an interval--not by any means the long interval which he +had anticipated--his solitude was enlivened by the appearance of +Father Bishopriggs. + +"Well?" cried Arnold, jumping off the dresser, "is the coast +clear?" + +There were occasions when Mr. Bishopriggs became, on a sudden, +unexpectedly hard of hearing, This was one of them. + +"Hoo do ye find the paintry?" he asked, without paying the +slightest attention to Arnold's question. "Snug and private? A +Patmos in the weelderness, as ye may say!" + +His one available eye, which had begun by looking at Arnold's +face, dropped slowly downward, and fixed itself, in mute but +eloquent expectation, on Arnold's waistcoat pocket. + +"I understand!" said Arnold. "I promised to pay you for the +Patmos--eh? There you are!" + +Mr. Bishopriggs pocketed the money with a dreary smile and a +sympathetic shake of the head. Other waiters would have returned +thanks. The sage of Craig Fernie returned a few brief remarks +instead. Admirable in many things, Father Bishopriggs was +especially great at drawing a moral. He drew a moral on this +occasion from his own gratuity. + +"There I am--as ye say. Mercy presairve us! ye need the siller at +every turn, when there's a woman at yer heels. It's an awfu' +reflection--ye canna hae any thing to do wi' the sex they ca' the +opposite sex without its being an expense to ye. There's this +young leddy o' yours, I doot she'll ha' been an expense to ye +from the first. When you were coortin' her, ye did it, I'll go +bail, wi' the open hand. Presents and keep-sakes, flowers and +jewelery, and little dogues. Sair expenses all of them!" + +"Hang your reflections! Has Sir Patrick left the inn?" + +The reflections of Mr. Bishopriggs declined to be disposed of in +any thing approaching to a summary way. On they flowed from their +parent source, as slowly and as smoothly as ever! + +"Noo ye're married to her, there's her bonnets and goons and +under-clothin'--her ribbons, laces, furbelows, and fallals. A +sair expense again!" + +"What is the expense of cutting your reflections short, Mr. +Bishopriggs?" + +"Thirdly, and lastly, if ye canna agree wi' her as time gaes +on--if there's incompaitibeelity of temper betwixt ye--in short, +if ye want a wee bit separation, hech, Sirs! ye pet yer hand in +yer poaket, and come to an aimicable understandin' wi' her in +that way. Or, maybe she takes ye into Court, and pets _her_ hand +in your poaket, and comes to a hoastile understandin' wi' ye +there. Show me a woman--and I'll show ye a man not far off wha' +has mair expenses on his back than he ever bairgained for." +Arnold's patience would last no longer--he turned to the door. +Mr. Bishopriggs, with equal alacrity on his side, turned to the +matter in hand. "Yes, Sir! The room is e'en clear o' Sir +Paitrick, and the leddy's alane, and waitin' for ye." + +In a moment more Arnold was back in the sitting-room. + +"Well?" he asked, anxiously. "What is it? Bad news from Lady +Lundie's?" + +Anne closed and directed the letter to Blanche, which she had +just completed. "No," she replied. "Nothing to interest _you."_." + +"What did Sir Patrick want?" + +"Only to warn me. They have found out at Windygates that I am +here." + +"That's awkward, isn't it?" + +"Not in the least. I can manage perfectly; I have nothing to +fear. Don't think of _me_--think of yourself." + +"I am not suspected, am I?" + +"Thank heaven--no. But there is no knowing what may happen if you +stay here. Ring the bell at once, and ask the waiter about the +trains." + +Struck by the unusual obscurity of the sky at that hour of the +evening, Arnold went to the window. The rain had come--and was +falling heavily. The view on the moor was fast disappearing in +mist and darkness. + +"Pleasant weather to travel in!" he said. + +"The railway!" Anne exclaimed, impatiently. "It's getting late. +See about the railway!" + +Arnold walked to the fire-place to ring the bell. The railway +time-table hanging over it met his eye. + +"Here's the information I want," he said to Anne; "if I only knew +how to get at it. 'Down'--'Up'--'A. M.'--P. M.' What a cursed +confusion! I believe they do it on purpose." + +Anne joined him at the fire-place. + +"I understand it--I'll help you. Did you say it was the up train +you wanted?" + +"What is the name of the station you stop at?" + +Arnold told her. She followed the intricate net-work of lines and +figures with her finger--suddenly stopped--looked again to make +sure--and turned from the time-table with a face of blank +despair. The last train for the day had gone an hour since. + +In the silence which followed that discovery, a first flash of +lightning passed across the window and the low roll of thunder +sounded the outbreak of the storm. + +"What's to be done now?" asked Arnold. + +In the face of the storm, Anne answered without hesitation, "You +must take a carriage, and drive." + +"Drive? They told me it was three-and-twenty miles, by railway, +from the station to my place--let alone the distance from this +inn to the station." + +"What does the distance matter? Mr. Brinkworth, you can't +possibly stay here!" + +A second flash of lightning crossed the window; the roll of the +thunder came nearer. Even Arnold's good temper began to be a +little ruffled by Anne's determination to get rid of him. He sat +down with the air of a man who had made up his mind not to leave +the house. + +"Do you hear that?" he asked, as the sound of the thunder died +away grandly, and the hard pattering of the rain on the window +became audible once more. "If I ordered horses, do you think they +would let me have them, in such weather as this? And, if they +did, do you suppose the horses could face it on the moor? No, no, +Miss Silvester--I am sorry to be in the way, but the train has +gone, and the night and the storm have come. I have no choice but +to stay here!" + +Anne still maintained her own view, but less resolutely than +before. "After what you have told the landlady," she said, "think +of the embarrassment, the cruel embarrassment of our position, if +you stop at the inn till to-morrow morning!" + +"Is that all?" returned Arnold. + +Anne looked up at him, quickly and angrily. No! he was quite +unconscious of having said any thing that could offend her. His +rough masculine sense broke its way unconsciously through all the +little feminine subtleties and delicacies of his companion, and +looked the position practically in the face for what it was +worth, and no more. "Where's the embarrassment?" he asked, +pointing to the bedroom door. "There's your room, all ready for +you. And here's the sofa, in this room, all ready for _me._ If +you had seen the places I have slept in at sea--!" + +She interrupted him, without ceremony. The places he had slept +in, at sea, were of no earthly importance. The one question to +consider, was the place he was to sleep in that night. + +"If you must stay," she rejoined, "can't you get a room in some +other part of the house?" + +But one last mistake in dealing with her, in her present nervous +condition, was left to make--and the innocent Arnold made it. "In +some other part of the house?" he repeated, jestingly. "The +landlady would be scandalized. Mr. Bishopriggs would never allow +it!" + +She rose, and stamped her foot impatiently on the floor. "Don't +joke!" she exclaimed. "This is no laughing matter." She paced the +room excitedly. "I don't like it! I don't like it!" + +Arnold looked after her, with a stare of boyish wonder. + +"What puts you out so?" he asked. "Is it the storm?" + +She threw herself on the sofa again. "Yes," she said, shortly. +"It's the storm." + +Arnold's inexhaustible good-nature was at once roused to activity +again. + +"Shall we have the candles," he suggested, "and shut the weather +out?" She turned irritably on the sofa, without replying. "I'll +promise to go away the first thing in the morning!" he went on. +"Do try and take it easy--and don't be angry with me. Come! come! +you wouldn't turn a dog out, Miss Silvester, on such a night as +this!" + +He was irresistible. The most sensitive woman breathing could not +have accused him of failing toward her in any single essential of +consideration and respect. He wanted tact, poor fellow--but who +could expect him to have learned that always superficial (and +sometimes dangerous) accomplishment, in the life he had led at +sea? At the sight of his honest, pleading face, Anne recovered +possession of her gentler and sweeter self. She made her excuses +for her irritability with a grace that enchanted him. "We'll have +a pleasant evening of it yet!" cried Arnold, in his hearty +way--and rang the bell. + +The bell was hung outside the door of that Patmos in the +wilderness--otherwise known as the head-waiter's pantry. Mr. +Bishopriggs (employing his brief leisure in the seclusion of his +own apartment) had just mixed a glass of the hot and comforting +liquor called "toddy" in the language of North Britain, and was +just lifting it to his lips, when the summons from Arnold invited +him to leave his grog. + +"Haud yer screechin' tongue! " cried Mr. Bishopriggs, addressing +the bell through the door. "Ye're waur than a woman when ye aince +begin!" + +The bell--like the woman--went on again. Mr. Bishopriggs, equally +pertinacious, went on with his toddy. + +"Ay! ay! ye may e'en ring yer heart out--but ye won't part a +Scotchman from his glass. It's maybe the end of their dinner +they'll be wantin'. Sir Paitrick cam' in at the fair beginning of +it, and spoilt the collops, like the dour deevil he is!" The bell +rang for the third time. "Ay! ay! ring awa'! I doot yon young +gentleman's little better than a belly-god--there's a scandalous +haste to comfort the carnal part o' him in a' this ringin'! He +knows naething o' wine," added Mr. Bishopriggs, on whose mind +Arnold's discovery of the watered sherry still dwelt +unpleasantly. + + + +The lightning quickened, and lit the sitting-room horribly with +its lurid glare; the thunder rolled nearer and nearer over the +black gulf of the moor. Arnold had just raised his hand to ring +for the fourth time, when the inevitable knock was heard at the +door. It was useless to say "come in." The immutable laws of +Bishopriggs had decided that a second knock was necessary. Storm +or no storm, the second knock came--and then, and not till then, +the sage appeared, with the dish of untasted "collops" in his +hand. + +"Candles!" said Arnold. + +Mr. Bishopriggs set the "collops" (in the language of England, +minced meat) upon the table, lit the candles on the mantle-piece, +faced about with the fire of recent toddy flaming in his nose, +and waited for further orders, before he went back to his second +glass. Anne declined to return to the dinner. Arnold ordered Mr. +Bishopriggs to close the shutters, and sat down to dine by +himself. + +"It looks greasy, and smells greasy," he said to Anne, turning +over the collops with a spoon. "I won't be ten minutes dining. +Will you have some tea?" + +Anne declined again. + +Arnold tried her once more. "What shall we do to get through the +evening?" + +"Do what you like," she answered, resignedly. + +Arnold's mind was suddenly illuminated by an idea. + +"I have got it!" he exclaimed. "We'll kill the time as our +cabin-passengers used to kill it at sea." He looked over his +shoulder at Mr. Bishopriggs. "Waiter! bring a pack of cards." + +"What's that ye're wantin'?" asked Mr. Bishopriggs, doubting the +evidence of his own senses. + +"A pack of cards," repeated Arnold. + +"Cairds?" echoed Mr. Bishopriggs. "A pack o' cairds? The deevil's +allegories in the deevil's own colors--red and black! I wunna +execute yer order. For yer ain saul's sake, I wunna do it. Ha' ye +lived to your time o' life, and are ye no' awakened yet to the +awfu' seenfulness o' gamblin' wi' the cairds?" + +"Just as you please," returned Arnold. "You will find me +awakened--when I go away--to the awful folly of feeing a waiter." + +"Does that mean that ye're bent on the cairds?" asked Mr. +Bishopriggs, suddenly betraying signs of worldly anxiety in his +look and manner. + +"Yes--that means I am bent on the cards." + +"I tak' up my testimony against 'em--but I'm no' telling ye that +I canna lay my hand on 'em if I like. What do they say in my +country? 'Him that will to Coupar, maun to Coupar.' And what do +they say in your country? 'Needs must when the deevil drives.' " +With that excellent reason for turning his back on his own +principles, Mr. Bishopriggs shuffled out of the room to fetch the +cards. + +The dresser-drawer in the pantry contained a choice selection of +miscellaneous objects--a pack of cards being among them. In +searching for the cards, the wary hand of the head-waiter came in +contact with a morsel of crumpled-up paper. He drew it out, and +recognized the letter which he had picked up in the sitting-room +s ome hours since. + +"Ay! ay! I'll do weel, I trow, to look at this while my mind's +runnin' on it," said Mr. Bishopriggs. "The cairds may e'en find +their way to the parlor by other hands than mine." + +He forthwith sent the cards to Arnold by his second in command, +closed the pantry door, and carefully smoothed out the crumpled +sheet of paper on which the two letters were written. This done, +he trimmed his candle, and began with the letter in ink, which +occupied the first three pages of the sheet of note-paper. + +It ran thus: + + + +"WINDYGATES HOUSE, _August_ 12, 1868. + +"GEOFFREY DELAMAYN,--I have waited in the hope that you would +ride over from your brother's place, and see me--and I have +waited in vain. Your conduct to me is cruelty itself; I will bear +it no longer. Consider! in your own interests, consider--before +you drive the miserable woman who has trusted you to despair. You +have promised me marriage by all that is sacred. I claim your +promise. I insist on nothing less than to be what you vowed I +should be--what I have waited all this weary time to be--what I +_am_, in the sight of Heaven, your wedded wife. Lady Lundie gives +a lawn-party here on the 14th. I know you have been asked. I +expect you to accept her invitation. If I don't see you, I won't +answer for what may happen. My mind is made up to endure this +suspense no longer. Oh, Geoffrey, remember the past! Be +faithful--be just--to your loving wife, + + "ANNE SILVESTER." + + + +Mr. Bishopriggs paused. His commentary on the correspondence, so +far, was simple enough. "Hot words (in ink) from the leddy to the +gentleman!" He ran his eye over the second letter, on the fourth +page of the paper, and added, cynically, "A trifle caulder (in +pencil) from the gentleman to the leddy! The way o' the warld, +Sirs! From the time o' Adam downwards, the way o' the warld!" + +The second letter ran thus: + + + +"DEAR ANNE,--Just called to London to my father. They have +telegraphed him in a bad way. Stop where you are, and I will +write you. Trust the bearer. Upon my soul, I'll keep my promise. +Your loving husband that is to be, + + "GEOFFREY DELAMAYN." + +WINDYGATES HOUSE, _Augt._ 14, 4 P. M. + +"In a mortal hurry. Train starts at 4.30." + + + +There it ended! + +"Who are the pairties in the parlor? Is ane o' them 'Silvester?' +and t'other 'Delamayn?' " pondered Mr. Bishopriggs, slowly +folding the letter up again in its original form. "Hech, Sirs! +what, being intairpreted, may a' this mean?" + +He mixed himself a second glass of toddy, as an aid to +reflection, and sat sipping the liquor, and twisting and turning +the letter in his gouty fingers. It was not easy to see his way +to the true connection between the lady and gentleman in the +parlor and the two letters now in his own possession. They might +be themselves the writers of the letters, or they might be only +friends of the writers. Who was to decide? + +In the first case, the lady's object would appear to have been as +good as gained; for the two had certainly asserted themselves to +be man and wife, in his own presence, and in the presence of the +landlady. In the second case, the correspondence so carelessly +thrown aside might, for all a stranger knew to the contrary, +prove to be of some importance in the future. Acting on this +latter view, Mr. Bishopriggs--whose past experience as "a bit +clerk body," in Sir Patrick's chambers, had made a man of +business of him--produced his pen and ink, and indorsed the +letter with a brief dated statement of the circumstances under +which he had found it. "I'll do weel to keep the Doecument," he +thought to himself. "Wha knows but there'll be a reward offered +for it ane o' these days? Eh! eh! there may be the warth o' a fi' +pun' note in this, to a puir lad like me!" + +With that comforting reflection, he drew out a battered tin +cash-box from the inner recesses of the drawer, and locked up the +stolen correspondence to bide its time. + + + +The storm rose higher and higher as the evening advanced. + +In the sitting-room, the state of affairs, perpetually changing, +now presented itself under another new aspect. + +Arnold had finished his dinner, and had sent it away. He had next +drawn a side-table up to the sofa on which Anne lay--had shuffled +the pack of cards--and was now using all his powers of persuasion +to induce her to try one game at _Ecarté_ with him, by way +of diverting her attention from the tumult of the storm. In sheer +weariness, she gave up contesting the matter; and, raising +herself languidly on the sofa, said she would try to play. +"Nothing can make matters worse than they are," she thought, +despairingly, as Arnold dealt the cards for her. "Nothing can +justify my inflicting my own wretchedness on this kind-hearted +boy!" + +Two worse players never probably sat down to a game. Anne's +attention perpetually wandered; and Anne's companion was, in all +human probability, the most incapable card-player in Europe. + +Anne turned up the trump--the nine of Diamonds. Arnold looked at +his hand--and "proposed." Anne declined to change the cards. +Arnold announced, with undiminished good-humor, that he saw his +way clearly, now, to losing the game, and then played his first +card--the Queen of Trumps! + +Anne took it with the King, and forgot to declare the King. She +played the ten of Trumps. + +Arnold unexpectedly discovered the eight of Trumps in his hand. +"What a pity!" he said, as he played it. "Hullo! you haven't +marked the King! I'll do it for you. That's two--no, three--to +you. I said I should lose the game. Couldn't be expected to do +any thing (could I?) with such a hand as mine. I've lost every +thing now I've lost my trumps. You to play." + +Anne looked at her hand. At the same moment the lightning flashed +into the room through the ill-closed shutters; the roar of the +thunder burst over the house, and shook it to its foundation. The +screaming of some hysterical female tourist, and the barking of a +dog, rose shrill from the upper floor of the inn. Anne's nerves +could support it no longer. She flung her cards on the table, and +sprang to her feet. + +"I can play no more," she said. "Forgive me--I am quite unequal +to it. My head burns! my heart stifles me!" + +She began to pace the room again. Aggravated by the effect of the +storm on her nerves, her first vague distrust of the false +position into which she and Arnold had allowed themselves to +drift had strengthened, by this time, into a downright horror of +their situation which was not to be endured. Nothing could +justify such a risk as the risk they were now running! They had +dined together like married people--and there they were, at that +moment, shut in together, and passing the evening like man and +wife! + +"Oh, Mr. Brinkworth!" she pleaded. "Think--for Blanche's sake, +think--is there no way out of this?" + +Arnold was quietly collecting the scattered cards. + +"Blanche, again?" he said, with the most exasperating composure. +"I wonder how she feels, in this storm?" + +In Anne's excited state, the reply almost maddened her. She +turned from Arnold, and hurried to the door. + +"I don't care!" she cried, wildly. "I won't let this deception go +on. I'll do what I ought to have done before. Come what may of +it, I'll tell the landlady the truth!" + +She had opened the door, and was on the point of stepping into +the passage--when she stopped, and started violently. Was it +possible, in that dreadful weather, that she had actually heard +the sound of carriage wheels on the strip of paved road outside +the inn? + +Yes! others had heard the sound too. The hobbling figure of Mr. +Bishopriggs passed her in the passage, making for the house door. +The hard voice of the landlady rang through the inn, ejaculating +astonishment in broad Scotch. Anne closed the sitting-room door +again, and turned to Arnold--who had risen, in surprise, to his +feet. + +"Travelers!" she exclaimed. "At this time!" + +"And in this weather!" added Arnold. + +"_Can_ it be Geoffrey?" she asked--going back to the old vain +delusion that he might yet feel for her, and return. + +Arnold shook his head. "Not Geoffrey. Whoever else it may be--not +Geoffrey!" + +Mrs. Inchbare suddenly entered the room--with her cap-ribb ons +flying, her eyes staring, and her bones looking harder than ever. + +"Eh, mistress!" she said to Anne. "Wha do ye think has driven +here to see ye, from Windygates Hoose, and been owertaken in the +storm?" + +Anne was speechless. Arnold put the question: "Who is it?" + +"Wha is't?" repeated Mrs. Inchbare. "It's joost the bonny young +leddy--Miss Blanche hersel'." + +An irrepressible cry of horror burst from Anne. The landlady set +it down to the lightning, which flashed into the room again at +the same moment. + +"Eh, mistress! ye'll find Miss Blanche a bit baulder than to +skirl at a flash o' lightning, that gait! Here she is, the bonny +birdie!" exclaimed Mrs. Inchbare, deferentially backing out into +the passage again. + +Blanche's voice reached them, calling for Anne. + +Anne caught Arnold by the hand and wrung it hard. "Go!" she +whispered. The next instant she was at the mantle-piece, and had +blown out both the candles. + +Another flash of lightning came through the darkness, and showed +Blanche's figure standing at the door. + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. + +BLANCHE. + +MRS. INCHBARE was the first person who acted in the emergency. +She called for lights; and sternly rebuked the house-maid, who +brought them, for not having closed the house door. "Ye feckless +ne'er-do-weel!" cried the landlady; "the wind's blawn the candles +oot." + +The woman declared (with perfect truth) that the door had been +closed. An awkward dispute might have ensued if Blanche had not +diverted Mrs. Inchbare's attention to herself. The appearance of +the lights disclosed her, wet through with her arms round Anne's +neck. Mrs. Inchbare digressed at once to the pressing question of +changing the young lady's clothes, and gave Anne the opportunity +of looking round her, unobserved. Arnold had made his escape +before the candles had been brought in. + +In the mean time Blanche's attention was absorbed in her own +dripping skirts. + +"Good gracious! I'm absolutely distilling rain from every part of +me. And I'm making you, Anne, as wet as I am! Lend me some dry +things. You can't? Mrs. Inchbare, what does your experience +suggest? Which had I better do? Go to bed while my clothes are +being dried? or borrow from your wardrobe--though you _are_ a +head and shoulders taller than I am?" + +Mrs. Inchbare instantly bustled out to fetch the choicest +garments that her wardrobe could produce. The moment the door had +closed on her Blanche looked round the room in her turn. + +The rights of affection having been already asserted, the claims +of curiosity naturally pressed for satisfaction next. + +"Somebody passed me in the dark," she whispered. "Was it your +husband? I'm dying to be introduced to him. And, oh my dear! what +_is_ your married name?" + +Anne answered, coldly, "Wait a little. I can't speak about it +yet." + +"Are you ill?" asked Blanche. + +"I am a little nervous." + +"Has any thing unpleasant happened between you and my uncle? You +have seen him, haven't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he give you my message?" + +"He gave me your message.--Blanche! you promised him to stay at +Windygates. Why, in the name of heaven, did you come here +to-night?" + +"If you were half as fond of me as I am of you," returned +Blanche, "you wouldn't ask that. I tried hard to keep my promise, +but I couldn't do it. It was all very well, while my uncle was +laying down the law--with Lady Lundie in a rage, and the dogs +barking, and the doors banging, and all that. The excitement kept +me up. But when my uncle had gone, and the dreadful gray, quiet, +rainy evening came, and it had all calmed down again, there was +no bearing it. The house--without you--was like a tomb. If I had +had Arnold with me I might have done very well. But I was all by +myself. Think of that! Not a soul to speak to! There wasn't a +horrible thing that could possibly happen to you that I didn't +fancy was going to happen. I went into your empty room and looked +at your things. _That_ settled it, my darling! I rushed down +stairs--carried away, positively carried away, by an Impulse +beyond human resistance. How could I help it? I ask any +reasonable person how could I help it? I ran to the stables and +found Jacob. Impulse--all impulse! I said, 'Get the +pony-chaise--I must have a drive--I don't care if it rains--you +come with me.' All in a breath, and all impulse! Jacob behaved +like an angel. He said, 'All right, miss.' I am perfectly certain +Jacob would die for me if I asked him. He is drinking hot grog at +this moment, to prevent him from catching cold, by my express +orders. He had the pony-chaise out in two minutes; and off we +went. Lady Lundie, my dear, prostrate in her own room--too much +sal volatile. I hate her. The rain got worse. I didn't mind it. +Jacob didn't mind it. The pony didn't mind it. They had both +caught my impulse--especially the pony. It didn't come on to +thunder till some time afterward; and then we were nearer Craig +Fernie than Windygates--to say nothing of your being at one place +and not at the other. The lightning was quite awful on the moor. +If I had had one of the horses, he would have been frightened. +The pony shook his darling little head, and dashed through it. He +is to have beer. A mash with beer in it--by my express orders. +When he has done we'll borrow a lantern, and go into the stable, +and kiss him. In the mean time, my dear, here I am--wet through +in a thunderstorm, which doesn't in the least matter--and +determined to satisfy my own mind about you, which matters a +great deal, and must and shall be done before I rest to-night! " + +She turned Anne, by main force, as she spoke, toward the light of +the candles. + +Her tone changed the moment she looked at Anne's face. + +"I knew it!" she said. "You would never have kept the most +interesting event in your life a secret from _me_--you would +never have written me such a cold formal letter as the letter you +left in your room--if there had not been something wrong. I said +so at the time. I know it now! Why has your husband forced you to +leave Windygates at a moment's notice? Why does he slip out of +the room in the dark, as if he was afraid of being seen? Anne! +Anne! what has come to you? Why do you receive me in this way?" + +At that critical moment Mrs. Inchbare reappeared, with the +choicest selection of wearing apparel which her wardrobe could +furnish. Anne hailed the welcome interruption. She took the +candles, and led the way into the bedroom immediately. + +"Change your wet clothes first," she said. "We can talk after +that." + +The bedroom door had hardly been closed a minute before there was +a tap at it. Signing to Mrs. Inchbare not to interrupt the +services she was rendering to Blanche, Anne passed quickly into +the sitting-room, and closed the door behind her. To her infinite +relief, she only found herself face to face with the discreet Mr. +Bishopriggs. + +"What do you want?" she asked. + +The eye of Mr. Bishopriggs announced, by a wink, that his mission +was of a confidential nature. The hand of Mr. Bishopriggs +wavered; the breath of Mr. Bishopriggs exhaled a spirituous fume. +He slowly produced a slip of paper, with some lines of writing on +it. + +"From ye ken who," he explained, jocosely. "A bit love-letter, I +trow, from him that's dear to ye. Eh! he's an awfu' reprobate is +him that's dear to ye. Miss, in the bedchamber there, will nae +doot be the one he's jilted for _you?_ I see it all--ye can't +blind Me--I ha' been a frail person my ain self, in my time. +Hech! he's safe and sound, is the reprobate. I ha' lookit after +a' his little creature-comforts--I'm joost a fether to him, as +well as a fether to you. Trust Bishopriggs--when puir human +nature wants a bit pat on the back, trust Bishopriggs." + +While the sage was speaking these comfortable words, Anne was +reading the lines traced on the paper. They were signed by +Arnold; and they ran thus: + +"I am in the smoking-room of the inn. It rests with you to say +whether I must stop there. I don't believe Blanche would be +jealous. If I knew how to explain my being at the inn without +betraying the confidence which you and Geoffrey have placed in +me, I wouldn't be away from her another moment. It does grate on +me so! At the same time, I don't want to make your position +harder than it is. Think of yourself f irst. I leave it in your +hands. You have only to say, Wait, by the bearer--and I shall +understand that I am to stay where I am till I hear from you +again." + +Anne looked up from the message. + +"Ask him to wait," she said; "and I will send word to him again." + +"Wi' mony loves and kisses," suggested Mr. Bishopriggs, as a +necessary supplement to the message." Eh! it comes as easy as A. +B. C. to a man o' my experience. Ye can ha' nae better +gae-between than yer puir servant to command, Sawmuel +Bishopriggs. I understand ye baith pairfeckly." He laid his +forefinger along his flaming nose, and withdrew. + +Without allowing herself to hesitate for an instant, Anne opened +the bedroom door--with the resolution of relieving Arnold from +the new sacrifice imposed on him by owning the truth. + +"Is that you?" asked Blanche. + +At the sound of her voice, Anne started back guiltily. "I'll be +with you in a moment," she answered, and closed the door again +between them. + +No! it was not to be done. Something in Blanche's trivial +question--or something, perhaps, in the sight of Blanche's +face--roused the warning instinct in Anne, which silenced her on +the very brink of the disclosure. At the last moment the iron +chain of circumstances made itself felt, binding her without +mercy to the hateful, the degrading deceit. Could she own the +truth, about Geoffrey and herself, to Blanche? and, without +owning it, could she explain and justify Arnold's conduct in +joining her privately at Craig Fernie? A shameful confession made +to an innocent girl; a risk of fatally shaking Arnold's place in +Blanche's estimation; a scandal at the inn, in the disgrace of +which the others would be involved with herself--this was the +price at which she must speak, if she followed her first impulse, +and said, in so many words, "Arnold is here." + +It was not to be thought of. Cost what it might in present +wretchedness--end how it might, if the deception was discovered +in the future--Blanche must be kept in ignorance of the truth, +Arnold must be kept in hiding until she had gone. + +Anne opened the door for the second time, and went in. + +The business of the toilet was standing still. Blanche was in +confidential communication with Mrs. Inchbare. At the moment when +Anne entered the room she was eagerly questioning the landlady +about her friend's "invisible husband"--she was just saying, "Do +tell me! what is he like?" + +The capacity for accurate observation is a capacity so uncommon, +and is so seldom associated, even where it does exist, with the +equally rare gift of accurately describing the thing or the +person observed, that Anne's dread of the consequences if Mrs. +Inchbare was allowed time to comply with Blanches request, was, +in all probability, a dread misplaced. Right or wrong, however, +the alarm that she felt hurried her into taking measures for +dismissing the landlady on the spot. "We mustn't keep you from +your occupations any longer," she said to Mrs. Inchbare. "I will +give Miss Lundie all the help she needs." + +Barred from advancing in one direction, Blanche's curiosity +turned back, and tried in another. She boldly addressed herself +to Anne. + +"I _must_ know something about him," she said. "Is he shy before +strangers? I heard you whispering with him on the other side of +the door. Are you jealous, Anne? Are you afraid I shall fascinate +him in this dress?" + +Blanche, in Mrs. Inchbare's best gown--an ancient and +high-waisted silk garment, of the hue called "bottle-green," +pinned up in front, and trailing far behind her--with a short, +orange-colored shawl over her shoulders, and a towel tied turban +fashion round her head, to dry her wet hair, looked at once the +strangest and the prettiest human anomaly that ever was seen. +"For heaven's sake," she said, gayly, "don't tell your husband I +am in Mrs. Inchbare's clothes! I want to appear suddenly, without +a word to warn him of what a figure I am! I should have nothing +left to wish for in this world," she added, " if Arnold could +only see me now!" + +Looking in the glass, she noticed Anne's face reflected behind +her, and started at the sight of it. + +"What _is_ the matter?" she asked. "Your face frightens me." + +It was useless to prolong the pain of the inevitable +misunderstanding between them. The one course to take was to +silence all further inquiries then and there. Strongly as she +felt this, Anne's inbred loyalty to Blanche still shrank from +deceiving her to her face. "I might write it," she thought. "I +can't say it, with Arnold Brinkworth in the same house with her! +"Write it? As she reconsidered the word, a sudden idea struck +her. She opened the bedroom door, and led the way back into the +sitting-room. + +"Gone again!" exclaimed Blanche, looking uneasily round the empty +room. "Anne! there's something so strange in all this, that I +neither can, nor will, put up with your silence any longer. It's +not just, it's not kind, to shut me out of your confidence, after +we have lived together like sisters all our lives!" + +Anne sighed bitterly, and kissed her on the forehead. "You shall +know all I can tell you--all I _dare_ tell you," she said, +gently. "Don't reproach me. It hurts me more than you think." + +She turned away to the side table, and came back with a letter in +her hand. "Read that," she said, and handed it to Blanche. + +Blanche saw her own name, on the address, in the handwriting of +Anne. + +"What does this mean?" she asked. + +"I wrote to you, after Sir Patrick had left me," Anne replied. "I +meant you to have received my letter to-morrow, in time to +prevent any little imprudence into which your anxiety might hurry +you. All that I _can_ say to you is said there. Spare me the +distress of speaking. Read it, Blanche." + +Blanche still held the letter, unopened. + +"A letter from you to me! when we are both together, and both +alone in the same room! It's worse than formal, Anne! It's as if +there was a quarrel between us. Why should it distress you to +speak to me?" + +Anne's eyes dropped to the ground. She pointed to the letter for +the second time. + +Blanche broke the seal. + +She passed rapidly over the opening sentences, and devoted all +her attention to the second paragraph. + +"And now, my love, you will expect me to atone for the surprise +and distress that I have caused you, by explaining what my +situation really is, and by telling you all my plans for the +future. Dearest Blanche! don't think me untrue to the affection +we bear toward each other--don't think there is any change in my +heart toward you--believe only that I am a very unhappy woman, +and that I am in a position which forces me, against my own will, +to be silent about myself. Silent even to you, the sister of my +love--the one person in the world who is dearest to me! A time +may come when I shall be able to open my heart to you. Oh, what +good it will do me! what a relief it will be! For the present, I +must be silent. For the present, we must be parted. God knows +what it costs me to write this. I think of the dear old days that +are gone; I remember how I promised your mother to be a sister to +you, when her kind eyes looked at me, for the last time--_your_ +mother, who was an angel from heaven to _ mine!_ All this comes +back on me now, and breaks my heart. But it must be! my own +Blanche, for the present. it must be! I will write often--I will +think of you, my darling, night and day, till a happier future +unites us again. God bless _you,_ my dear one! And God help _ +me!"_ + +Blanche silently crossed the room to the sofa on which Anne was +sitting, and stood there for a moment, looking at her. She sat +down, and laid her head on Anne's shoulder. Sorrowfully and +quietly, she put the letter into her bosom--and took Anne's hand, +and kissed it. + +"All my questions are answered, dear. I will wait your time." + +It was simply, sweetly, generously said. + +Anne burst into tears. + + * * * * * * + +The rain still fell, but the storm was dying away. + +Blanche left the sofa, and, going to the window, opened the +shutters to look out at the night. She suddenly came back to +Anne. + +"I see lights," she said--"the lights of a carriage coming up out +of the darkness of the moor. They are sending after me, from +Windygates. Go into t he bedroom. It's just possible Lady Lundie +may have come for me herself." + +The ordinary relations of the two toward each other were +completely reversed. Anne was like a child in Blanche's hands. +She rose, and withdrew. + +Left alone, Blanche took the letter out of her bosom, and read it +again, in the interval of waiting for the carriage. + +The second reading confirmed her in a resolution which she had +privately taken, while she had been sitting by Anne on the +sofa--a resolution destined to lead to far more serious results +in the future than any previsions of hers could anticipate. Sir +Patrick was the one person she knew on whose discretion and +experience she could implicitly rely. She determined, in Anne's +own interests, to take her uncle into her confidence, and to tell +him all that had happened at the inn "I'll first make him forgive +me," thought Blanche. "And then I'll see if he thinks as I do, +when I tell him about Anne." + +The carriage drew up at the door; and Mrs. Inchbare showed +in--not Lady Lundie, but Lady Lundie's maid. + +The woman's account of what had happened at Windygates was simple +enough. Lady Lundie had, as a matter of course, placed the right +interpretation on Blanche's abrupt departure in the pony-chaise, +and had ordered the carriage, with the firm determination of +following her step-daughter herself. But the agitations and +anxieties of the day had proved too much for her. She had been +seized by one of the attacks of giddiness to which she was always +subject after excessive mental irritation; and, eager as she was +(on more accounts than one) to go to the inn herself, she had +been compelled, in Sir Patrick's absence, to commit the pursuit +of Blanche to her own maid, in whose age and good sense she could +place every confidence. The woman seeing the state of the +weather--had thoughtfully brought a box with her, containing a +change of wearing apparel. In offering it to Blanche, she added, +with all due respect, that she had full powers from her mistress +to go on, if necessary, to the shooting-cottage, and to place the +matter in Sir Patrick's hands. This said, she left it to her +young lady to decide for herself, whether she would return to +Windygates, under present circumstances, or not. + +Blanche took the box from the woman's hands, and joined Anne in +the bedroom, to dress herself for the drive home. + +"I am going back to a good scolding," she said. "But a scolding +is no novelty in my experience of Lady Lundie. I'm not uneasy +about that, Anne--I'm uneasy about you. Can I be sure of one +thing--do you stay here for the present?" + +The worst that could happen at the inn _had_ happened. Nothing +was to be gained now--and every thing might be lost--by leaving +the place at which Geoffrey had promised to write to her. Anne +answered that she proposed remaining at the inn for the present. + +"You promise to write to me?" + +"Yes." + +"If there is any thing I can do for you--?" + +"There is nothing, my love." + +"There may be. If you want to see me, we can meet at Windygates +without being discovered. Come at luncheon-time--go around by the +shrubbery--and step in at the library window. You know as well as +I do there is nobody in the library at that hour. Don't say it's +impossible--you don't know what may happen. I shall wait ten +minutes every day on the chance of seeing you. That's +settled--and it's settled that you write. Before I go, darling, +is there any thing else we can think of for the future?" + +At those words Anne suddenly shook off the depression that +weighed on her. She caught Blanche in her arms, she held Blanche +to her bosom with a fierce energy. "Will you always be to me, in +the future, what you are now?" she asked, abruptly. "Or is the +time coming when you will hate me?" She prevented any reply by a +kiss--and pushed Blanche toward the door. "We have had a happy +time together in the years that are gone," she said, with a +farewell wave of her hand. "Thank God for that! And never mind +the rest." + +She threw open the bedroom door, and called to the maid, in the +sitting-room. "Miss Lundie is waiting for you." Blanche pressed +her hand, and left her. + +Anne waited a while in the bedroom, listening to the sound made +by the departure of the carriage from the inn door. Little by +little, the tramp of the horses and the noise of the rolling +wheels lessened and lessened. When the last faint sounds were +lost in silence she stood for a moment thinking--then, rousing on +a sudden, hurried into the sitting-room, and rang the bell. + +"I shall go mad," she said to herself, "if I stay here alone." + +Even Mr. Bishopriggs felt the necessity of being silent when he +stood face to face with her on answering the bell. + +"I want to speak to him. Send him here instantly." + +Mr. Bishopriggs understood her, and withdrew. + +Arnold came in. + +"Has she gone?" were the first words he said. + +"She has gone. She won't suspect you when you see her again. I +have told her nothing. Don't ask me for my reasons!" + +"I have no wish to ask you." + +"Be angry with me, if you like!" + +"I have no wish to be angry with you." + +He spoke and looked like an altered man. Quietly seating himself +at the table, he rested his head on his hand--and so remained +silent. Anne was taken completely by surprise. She drew near, and +looked at him curiously. Let a woman's mood be what it may, it is +certain to feel the influence of any change for which she is +unprepared in the manner of a man--when that man interests her. +The cause of this is not to be found in the variableness of her +humor. It is far more probably to be traced to the noble +abnegation of Self, which is one of the grandest--and to the +credit of woman be it said--one of the commonest virtues of the +sex. Little by little, the sweet feminine charm of Anne's face +came softly and sadly back. The inbred nobility of the woman's +nature answered the call which the man had unconsciously made on +it. She touched Arnold on the shoulder. + +"This has been hard on _you,_" she said. "And I am to blame for +it. Try and forgive me, Mr. Brinkworth. I am sincerely sorry. I +wish with all my heart I could comfort you!" + +"Thank you, Miss Silvester. It was not a very pleasant feeling, +to be hiding from Blanche as if I was afraid of her--and it's set +me thinking, I suppose, for the first time in my life. Never +mind. It's all over now. Can I do any thing for you?" + +"What do you propose doing to-night?" + +"What I have proposed doing all along--my duty by Geoffrey. I +have promised him to see you through your difficulties here, and +to provide for your safety till he comes back. I can only make +sure of doing that by keeping up appearances, and staying in the +sitting-room to-night. When we next meet it will be under +pleasanter circumstances, I hope. I shall always be glad to think +that I was of some service to you. In the mean time I shall be +most likely away to-morrow morning before you are up." + +Anne held out her hand to take leave. Nothing could undo what had +been done. The time for warning and remonstrance had passed away. + +"You have not befriended an ungrateful woman," she said. "The day +may yet come, Mr. Brinkworth, when I shall prove it." + +"I hope not, Miss Silvester. Good-by, and good luck!" + +She withdrew into her own room. Arnold locked the sitting-room +door, and stretched himself on the sofa for the night. + + * * * * * * + +The morning was bright, the air was delicious after the storm. + +Arnold had gone, as he had promised, before Anne was out of her +room. It was understood at the inn that important business had +unexpectedly called him south. Mr. Bishopriggs had been presented +with a handsome gratuity; and Mrs. Inchbare had been informed +that the rooms were taken for a week certain. + +In every quarter but one the march of events had now, to all +appearance, fallen back into a quiet course. Arnold was on his +way to his estate; Blanche was safe at Windygates; Anne's +residence at the inn was assured for a week to come. The one +present doubt was the doubt which hung over Geoffrey's movements. +The one event still involved in darkness turned on the question +of life or death waiting for solution in London--otherwise, the +question of Lord Holchester's health. Taken by i tself, the +alternative, either way, was plain enough. If my lord +lived--Geoffrey would he free to come back, and marry her +privately in Scotland. If my lord died--Geoffrey would be free to +send for her, and marry her publicly in London. But could +Geoffrey be relied on? + +Anne went out on to the terrace-ground in front of the inn. The +cool morning breeze blew steadily. Towering white clouds sailed +in grand procession over the heavens, now obscuring, and now +revealing the sun. Yellow light and purple shadow chased each +other over the broad brown surface of the moor--even as hope and +fear chased each other over Anne's mind, brooding on what might +come to her with the coming time. + +She turned away, weary of questioning the impenetrable future, +and went back to the inn. + +Crossing the hall she looked at the clock. It was past the hour +when the train from Perthshire was due in London. Geoffrey and +his brother were, at that moment, on their way to Lord +Holchester's house. + + +THIRD SCENE.--LONDON. + +CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH. + +GEOFFREY AS A LETTER-WRITER. + +LORD HOLCHESTER'S servants--with the butler at their head--were +on the look-out for Mr. Julius Delamayn's arrival from Scotland. +The appearance of the two brothers together took the whole +domestic establishment by surprise. Inquiries were addressed to +the butler by Julius; Geoffrey standing by, and taking no other +than a listener's part in the proceedings. + +"Is my father alive?" + +"His lordship, I am rejoiced to say, has astonished the doctors, +Sir. He rallied last night in the most wonderful way. If things +go on for the next eight-and-forty hours as they are going now, +my lord's recovery is considered certain." + +"What was the illness?" + +"A paralytic stroke, Sir. When her ladyship telegraphed to you in +Scotland the doctors had given his lordship up." + +"Is my mother at home?" + +"Her ladyship is at home to _you,_, Sir."' + +The butler laid a special emphasis on the personal pronoun. +Julius turned to his brother. The change for the better in the +state of Lord Holchester's health made Geoffrey's position, at +that moment, an embarrassing one. He had been positively +forbidden to enter the house. His one excuse for setting that +prohibitory sentence at defiance rested on the assumption that +his father was actually dying. As matters now stood, Lord +Holchester's order remained in full force. The under-servants in +the hall (charged to obey that order as they valued their places) +looked from "Mr. Geoffrey" to the butler, The butler looked from +"Mr. Geoffrey" to "Mr. Julius." Julius looked at his brother. +There was an awkward pause. The position of the second son was +the position of a wild beast in the house--a creature to be got +rid of, without risk to yourself, if you only knew how. + +Geoffrey spoke, and solved the problem + +"Open the door, one of you fellows," he said to the footmen. "I'm +off." + +"Wait a minute," interposed his brother. "It will be a sad +disappointment to my mother to know that you have been here, and +gone away again without seeing her. These are no ordinary +circumstances, Geoffrey. Come up stairs with me--I'll take it on +myself." + +"I'm blessed if I take it on _my_self!" returned Geoffrey. "Open +the door!" + +"Wait here, at any rate," pleaded Julius, "till I can send you +down a message." + +"Send your message to Nagle's Hotel. I'm at home at Nagle's--I'm +not at home here." + +At that point the discussion was interrupted by the appearance of +a little terrier in the hall. Seeing strangers, the dog began to +bark. Perfect tranquillity in the house had been absolutely +insisted on by the doctors; and the servants, all trying together +to catch the animal and quiet him, simply aggravated the noise he +was making. Geoffrey solved this problem also in his own decisive +way. He swung round as the dog was passing him, and kicked it +with his heavy boot. The little creature fell on the spot, +whining piteously. "My lady's pet dog!" exclaimed the butler. +"You've broken its ribs, Sir." "I've broken it of barking, you +mean," retorted Geoffrey. "Ribs be hanged!" He turned to his +brother. "That settles it," he said, jocosely. "I'd better defer +the pleasure of calling on dear mamma till the next opportunity. +Ta-ta, Julius. You know where to find me. Come, and dine. We'll +give you a steak at Nagle's that will make a man of you." + +He went out. The tall footmen eyed his lordship's second son with +unaffected respect. They had seen him, in public, at the annual +festival of the Christian-Pugilistic-Association, with "the +gloves" on. He could have beaten the biggest man in the hall +within an inch of his life in three minutes. The porter bowed as +he threw open the door. The whole interest and attention of the +domestic establishment then present was concentrated on Geoffrey. +Julius went up stairs to his mother without attracting the +slightest notice. + +The month was August. The streets were empty. The vilest breeze +that blows--a hot east wind in London--was the breeze abroad on +that day. Even Geoffrey appeared to feel the influence of the +weather as the cab carried him from his father's door to the +hotel. He took off his hat, and unbuttoned his waistcoat, and lit +his everlasting pipe, and growled and grumbled between his teeth +in the intervals of smoking. Was it only the hot wind that wrung +from him these demonstrations of discomfort? Or was there some +secret anxiety in his mind which assisted the depressing +influences of the day? There was a secret anxiety in his mind. +And the name of it was--Anne. + +As things actually were at that moment, what course was he to +take with the unhappy woman who was waiting to hear from him at +the Scotch inn? + +To write? or not to write? That was the question with Geoffrey. + +The preliminary difficulty, relating to addressing a letter to +Anne at the inn, had been already provided for. She had +decided--if it proved necessary to give her name, before Geoffrey +joined her--to call herself Mrs., instead of Miss, Silvester. A +letter addressed to "Mrs. Silvester" might be trusted to find its +way to her without causing any embarrassment. The doubt was not +here. The doubt lay, as usual, between two alternatives. Which +course would it be wisest to take?--to inform Anne, by that day's +post, that an interval of forty-eight hours must elapse before +his father's recovery could be considered certain? Or to wait +till the interval was over, and be guided by the result? +Considering the alternatives in the cab, he decided that the wise +course was to temporize with Anne, by reporting matters as they +then stood. + +Arrived at the hotel, he sat down to write the +letter--doubted--and tore it up--doubted again--and began +again--doubted once more--and tore up the second letter--rose to +his feet--and owned to himself (in unprintable language) that he +couldn't for the life of him decide which was safest--to write or +to wait. + +In this difficulty, his healthy physical instincts sent him to +healthy physical remedies for relief. "My mind's in a muddle," +said Geoffrey. "I'll try a bath." + +It was an elaborate bath, proceeding through many rooms, and +combining many postures and applications. He steamed. He plunged. +He simmered. He stood under a pipe, and received a cataract of +cold water on his head. He was laid on his back; he was laid on +his stomach; he was respectfully pounded and kneaded, from head +to foot, by the knuckles of accomplished practitioners. He came +out of it all, sleek, clear rosy, beautiful. He returned to the +hotel, and took up the writing materials--and behold the +intolerable indecision seized him again, declining to be washed +out! This time he laid it all to Anne. "That infernal woman will +be the ruin of me," said Geoffrey, taking up his hat. "I must try +the dumb-bells." + +The pursuit of the new remedy for stimulating a sluggish brain +took him to a public house, kept by the professional pedestrian +who had the honor of training him when he contended at Athletic +Sports. + +"A private room and the dumb-bells!" cried Geoffrey. "The +heaviest you have got." + +He stripped himself of his upper clothing, and set to work, with +the heavy weights in each hand, waving them up and down, and +backward and forward, in every attainable variety o f movement, +till his magnificent muscles seemed on the point of starting +through his sleek skin. Little by little his animal spirits +roused themselves. The strong exertion intoxicated the strong +man. In sheer excitement he swore cheerfully--invoking thunder +and lightning, explosion and blood, in return for the compliments +profusely paid to him by the pedestrian and the pedestrian's son. +"Pen, ink, and paper!" he roared, when he could use the +dumb-bells no longer. "My mind's made up; I'll write, and have +done with it!" He sat down to his writing on the spot; actually +finished the letter; another minute would have dispatched it to +the post--and, in that minute, the maddening indecision took +possession of him once more. He opened the letter again, read it +over again, and tore it up again. "I'm out of my mind!" cried +Geoffrey, fixing his big bewildered blue eyes fiercely on the +professor who trained him. "Thunder and lightning! Explosion and +blood! Send for Crouch." + +Crouch (known and respected wherever English manhood is known and +respected) was a retired prize-fighter. He appeared with the +third and last remedy for clearing the mind known to the +Honorable Geoffrey Delamayn--namely, two pair of boxing-gloves in +a carpet-bag. + +The gentleman and the prize-fighter put on the gloves, and faced +each other in the classically correct posture of pugilistic +defense. "None of your play, mind!" growled Geoffrey. "Fight, you +beggar, as if you were in the Ring again with orders to win." No +man knew better than the great and terrible Crouch what real +fighting meant, and what heavy blows might be given even with +such apparently harmless weapons as stuffed and padded gloves. He +pretended, and only pretended, to comply with his patron's +request. Geoffrey rewarded him for his polite forbearance by +knocking him down. The great and terrible rose with unruffled +composure. "Well hit, Sir!" he said. "Try it with the other hand +now." Geoffrey's temper was not under similar control. Invoking +everlasting destruction on the frequently-blackened eyes of +Crouch, he threatened instant withdrawal of his patronage and +support unless the polite pugilist hit, then and there, as hard +as he could. The hero of a hundred fights quailed at the dreadful +prospect. "I've got a family to support," remarked Crouch. "If +you _will_ have it, Sir--there it is!" The fall of Geoffrey +followed, and shook the house. He was on his legs again in an +instant--not satisfied even yet. "None of your body-hitting!" he +roared. "Stick to my head. Thunder and lightning! explosion and +blood! Knock it out of me! Stick to the head!" Obedient Crouch +stuck to the head. The two gave and took blows which would have +stunned--possibly have killed--any civilized member of the +community. Now on one side of his patron's iron skull, and now on +the other, the hammering of the prize-fighter's gloves fell, +thump upon thump, horrible to hear--until even Geoffrey himself +had had enough of it. "Thank you, Crouch," he said, speaking +civilly to the man for the first time. "That will do. I feel nice +and clear again." He shook his head two or three times, he was +rubbed down like a horse by the professional runner; he drank a +mighty draught of malt liquor; he recovered his good-humor as if +by magic. "Want the pen and ink, Sir?" inquired his pedestrian +host. "Not I!" answered Geoffrey. "The muddle's out of me now. +Pen and ink be hanged! I shall look up some of our fellows, and +go to the play." He left the public house in the happiest +condition of mental calm. Inspired by the stimulant application +of Crouch's gloves, his torpid cunning had been shaken up into +excellent working order at last. Write to Anne? Who but a fool +would write to such a woman as that until he was forced to it? +Wait and see what the chances of the next eight-and-forty hours +might bring forth, and then write to her, or desert her, as the +event might decide. It lay in a nut-shell, if you could only see +it. Thanks to Crouch, he did see it--and so away in a pleasant +temper for a dinner with "our fellows" and an evening at the +play! + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH. + +GEOFFREY IN THE MARRIAGE MARKET. + +THE interval of eight-and-forty hours passed--without the +occurrence of any personal communication between the two brothers +in that time. + +Julius, remaining at his father's house, sent brief written +bulletins of Lord Holchester's health to his brother at the +hotel. The first bulletin said, "Going on well. Doctors +satisfied." The second was firmer in tone. "Going on excellently. +Doctors very sanguine." The third was the most explicit of all. +"I am to see my father in an hour from this. The doctors answer +for his recovery. Depend on my putting in a good word for you, if +I can; and wait to hear from me further at the hotel." + +Geoffrey's face darkened as he read the third bulletin. He called +once more for the hated writing materials. There could be no +doubt now as to the necessity of communicating with Anne. Lord +Holchester's recovery had put him back again in the same critical +position which he had occupied at Windygates. To keep Anne from +committing some final act of despair, which would connect him +with a public scandal, and ruin him so far as his expectations +from his father were concerned, was, once more, the only safe +policy that Geoffrey could pursue. His letter began and ended in +twenty words: + + + +"DEAR ANNE,--Have only just heard that my father is turning the +corner. Stay where you are. Will write again." + + + +Having dispatched this Spartan composition by the post, Geoffrey +lit his pipe, and waited the event of the interview between Lord +Holchester and his eldest son. + +Julius found his father alarmingly altered in personal +appearance, but in full possession of his faculties nevertheless. +Unable to return the pressure of his son's hand--unable even to +turn in the bed without help--the hard eye of the old lawyer was +as keen, the hard mind of the old lawyer was as clear, as ever. +His grand ambition was to see Julius in Parliament. Julius was +offering himself for election in Perthshire, by his father's +express desire, at that moment. Lord Holchester entered eagerly +into politics before his eldest son had been two minutes by his +bedside. + +"Much obliged, Julius, for your congratulations. Men of my sort +are not easily killed. (Look at Brougham and Lyndhurst!) You +won't be called to the Upper House yet. You will begin in the +House of Commons--precisely as I wished. What are your prospects +with the constituency? Tell me exactly how you stand, and where I +can be of use to you." + +"Surely, Sir, you are hardly recovered enough to enter on matters +of business yet?" + +"I am quite recovered enough. I want some present interest to +occupy me. My thoughts are beginning to drift back to past times, +and to things which are better forgotten." A sudden contraction +crossed his livid face. He looked hard at his son, and entered +abruptly on a new question. "Julius!" he resumed, "have you ever +heard of a young woman named Anne Silvester?" + +Julius answered in the negative. He and his wife had exchanged +cards with Lady Lundie, and had excused themselves from accepting +her invitation to the lawn-party. With the exception of Blanche, +they were both quite ignorant of the persons who composed the +family circle at Windygates. + +"Make a memorandum of the name," Lord Holchester went on. "Anne +Silvester. Her father and mother are dead. I knew her father in +former times. Her mother was ill-used. It was a bad business. I +have been thinking of it again, for the first time for many +years. If the girl is alive and about the world she may remember +our family name. Help her, Julius, if she ever wants help, and +applies to you." The painful contraction passed across his face +once more. Were his thoughts taking him back to the memorable +summer evening at the Hampstead villa? Did he see the deserted +woman swooning at his feet again? "About your election?" he +asked, impatiently. "My mind is not used to be idle. Give it +something to do." + +Julius stated his position as plainly and as briefly as he could. +The father found nothing to object to in the report--except the +son's absence from the field of action. He blamed Lady H +olchester for summoning Julius to London. He was annoyed at his +son's being there, at the bedside, when he ought to have been +addressing the electors. "It's inconvenient, Julius," he said, +petulantly. "Don't you see it yourself?" + +Having previously arranged with his mother to take the first +opportunity that offered of risking a reference to Geoffrey, +Julius decided to "see it" in a light for which his father was +not prepared. The opportunity was before him. He took it on the +spot. + +"It is no inconvenience to me, Sir," he replied, "and it is no +inconvenience to my brother either. Geoffrey was anxious about +you too. Geoffrey has come to London with me." + +Lord Holchester looked at his eldest son with a grimly-satirical +expression of surprise. + +"Have I not already told you," he rejoined, "that my mind is not +affected by my illness? Geoffrey anxious about me! Anxiety is one +of the civilized emotions. Man in his savage state is incapable +of feeling it." + +"My brother is not a savage, Sir." + +"His stomach is generally full, and his skin is covered with +linen and cloth, instead of red ochre and oil. So far, certainly, +your brother is civilized. In all other respects your brother is +a savage." + +"I know what you mean, Sir. But there is something to be said for +Geoffrey's way of life. He cultivates his courage and his +strength. Courage and strength are fine qualities, surely, in +their way?" + +"Excellent qualities, as far as they go. If you want to know how +far that is, challenge Geoffrey to write a sentence of decent +English, and see if his courage doesn't fail him there. Give him +his books to read for his degree, and, strong as he is, he will +be taken ill at the sight of them. You wish me to see your +brother. Nothing will induce me to see him, until his way of life +(as you call it) is altered altogether. I have but one hope of +its ever being altered now. It is barely possible that the +influence of a sensible woman--possessed of such advantages of +birth and fortune as may compel respect, even from a +savage--might produce its effect on Geoffrey. If he wishes to +find his way back into this house, let him find his way back into +good society first, and bring me a daughter-in-law to plead his +cause for him--whom his mother and I can respect and receive. +When that happens, I shall begin to have some belief in Geoffrey. +Until it does happen, don't introduce your brother into any +future conversations which you may have with Me. To return to +your election. I have some advice to give you before you go back. +You will do well to go back to-night. Lift me up on the pillow. I +shall speak more easily with my head high." + +His son lifted him on the pillows, and once more entreated him to +spare himself. + +It was useless. No remonstrances shook the iron resolution of the +man who had hewed his way through the rank and file of political +humanity to his own high place apart from the rest. Helpless, +ghastly, snatched out of the very jaws of death, there he lay, +steadily distilling the clear common-sense which had won him all +his worldly rewards into the mind of his son. Not a hint was +missed, not a caution was forgotten, that could guide Julius +safely through the miry political ways which he had trodden so +safely and so dextrously himself. An hour more had passed before +the impenetrable old man closed his weary eyes, and consented to +take his nourishment and compose himself to rest. His last words, +rendered barely articulate by exhaustion, still sang the praises +of party manoeuvres and political strife. "It's a grand career! I +miss the House of Commons, Julius, as I miss nothing else!" + +Left free to pursue his own thoughts, and to guide his own +movements, Julius went straight from Lord Holchester's bedside to +Lady Holchester's boudoir. + +"Has your father said any thing about Geoffrey?" was his mother's +first question as soon as he entered the room. + +"My father gives Geoffrey a last chance, if Geoffrey will only +take it." + +Lady Holchester's face clouded. "I know," she said, with a look +of disappointment. "His last chance is to read for his degree. +Hopeless, my dear. Quite hopeless! If it had only been something +easier than that; something that rested with me--" + +"It does rest with you," interposed Julius. "My dear mother!--can +you believe it?--Geoffrey's last chance is (in one word) +Marriage!" + +"Oh, Julius! it's too good to be true!" + +Julius repeated his father's own words. Lady Holchester looked +twenty years younger as she listened. When he had done she rang +the bell. + +"No matter who calls," she said to the servant, "I am not at +home." She turned to Julius, kissed him, and made a place for him +on the sofa by her side. "Geoffrey shall take _that_ chance," she +said, gayly--"I will answer for it! I have three women in my +mind, any one of whom would suit him. Sit down, my dear, and let +us consider carefully which of the three will be most likely to +attract Geoffrey, and to come up to your father's standard of +what his daughter-in-law ought to be. When we have decided, don't +trust to writing. Go yourself and see Geoffrey at his hotel." + +Mother and son entered on their consultation--and innocently +sowed the seeds of a terrible harvest to come. + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH. + +GEOFFREY AS A PUBLIC CHARACTER. + +TIME had advanced to after noon before the selection of +Geoffrey's future wife was accomplished, and before the +instructions of Geoffrey's brother were complete enough to +justify the opening of the matrimonial negotiation at Nagle's +Hotel. + +"Don't leave him till you have got his promise," were Lady +Holchester's last words when her son started on his mission. + +"If Geoffrey doesn't jump at what I am going to offer him," was +the son's reply, "I shall agree with my father that the case is +hopeless; and I shall end, like my father, in giving Geoffrey +up." + +This was strong language for Julius to use. It was not easy to +rouse the disciplined and equable temperament of Lord +Holchester's eldest son. No two men were ever more thoroughly +unlike each other than these two brothers. It is melancholy to +acknowledge it of the blood relation of a "stroke oar," but it +must be owned, in the interests of truth, that Julius cultivated +his intelligence. This degenerate Briton could digest books--and +couldn't digest beer. Could learn languages--and couldn't learn +to row. Practiced the foreign vice of perfecting himself in the +art of playing on a musical instrument and couldn't learn the +English virtue of knowing a good horse when he saw him. Got +through life. (Heaven only knows how!) without either a biceps or +a betting-book. Had openly acknowledged, in English society, that +he didn't think the barking of a pack of hounds the finest music +in the world. Could go to foreign parts, and see a mountain which +nobody had ever got to the top of yet--and didn't instantly feel +his honor as an Englishman involved in getting to the top of it +himself. Such people may, and do, exist among the inferior races +of the Continent. Let us thank Heaven, Sir, that England never +has been, and never will be, the right place for them! + +Arrived at Nagle's Hotel, and finding nobody to inquire of in the +hall, Julius applied to the young lady who sat behind the window +of "the bar." The young lady was reading something so deeply +interesting in the evening newspaper that she never even heard +him. Julius went into the coffee-room. + +The waiter, in his corner, was absorbed over a second newspaper. +Three gentlemen, at three different tables, were absorbed in a +third, fourth, and fifth newspaper. They all alike went on with +their reading without noticing the entrance of the stranger. +Julius ventured on disturbing the waiter by asking for Mr. +Geoffrey Delamayn. At the sound of that illustrious name the +waiter looked up with a start. "Are you Mr. Delamayn's brother, +Sir?" + +"Yes." + +The three gentlemen at the tables looked up with a start. The +light of Geoffrey's celebrity fell, reflected, on Geoffrey's +brother, and made a public character of him. + +"You'll find Mr. Geoffrey, Sir," said the waiter, in a flurried, +excited manner, "at the Cock and Bottle, Putney." + +"I expected to find him here. I had an appointment with him at +this hotel." + +The wait er opened his eyes on Julius with an expression of blank +astonishment. "Haven't you heard the news, Sir?" + +"No!" + +"God bless my soul!" exclaimed the waiter--and offered the +newspaper. + +"God bless my soul!" exclaimed the three gentlemen--and offered +the three newspapers. + +"What is it?" asked Julius. + +"What is it?" repeated the waiter, in a hollow voice. "The most +dreadful thing that's happened in my time. It's all up, Sir, with +the great Foot-Race at Fulham. Tinkler has gone stale." + +The three gentlemen dropped solemnly back into their three +chairs, and repeated the dreadful intelligence, in +chorus--"Tinkler has gone stale." + +A man who stands face to face with a great national disaster, and +who doesn't understand it, is a man who will do wisely to hold +his tongue and enlighten his mind without asking other people to +help him. Julius accepted the waiter's newspaper, and sat down to +make (if possible) two discoveries: First, as to whether +"Tinkler" did, or did not, mean a man. Second, as to what +particular form of human affliction you implied when you +described that man as "gone stale." + +There was no difficulty in finding the news. It was printed in +the largest type, and was followed by a personal statement of the +facts, taken one way--which was followed, in its turn, by another +personal statement of the facts, taken in another way. More +particulars, and further personal statements, were promised in +later editions. The royal salute of British journalism thundered +the announcement of Tinkler's staleness before a people prostrate +on the national betting book. + +Divested of exaggeration, the facts were few enough and simple +enough. A famous Athletic Association of the North had challenged +a famous Athletic Association of the South. The usual "Sports" +were to take place--such as running, jumping, "putting" the +hammer, throwing cricket-balls, and the like--and the whole was +to wind up with a Foot-Race of unexampled length and difficulty +in the annals of human achievement between the two best men on +either side. "Tinkler" was the best man on the side of the South. +"Tinkler" was backed in innumerable betting-books to win. And +Tinkler's lungs had suddenly given way under stress of training! +A prospect of witnessing a prodigious achievement in foot-racing, +and (more important still) a prospect of winning and losing large +sums of money, was suddenly withdrawn from the eyes of the +British people. The "South" could produce no second opponent +worthy of the North out of its own associated resources. +Surveying the athletic world in general, but one man existed who +might possibly replace "Tinkler"--and it was doubtful, in the +last degree, whether he would consent to come forward under the +circumstances. The name of that man--Julius read it with +horror--was Geoffrey Delamayn. + +Profound silence reigned in the coffee-room. Julius laid down the +newspaper, and looked about him. The waiter was busy, in his +corner, with a pencil and a betting-book. The three gentlemen +were busy, at the three tables, with pencils and betting-books. + +"Try and persuade him!" said the waiter, piteously, as Delamayn's +brother rose to leave the room. + +"Try and persuade him!" echoed the three gentlemen, as Delamayn's +brother opened the door and went out. + +Julius called a cab. and told the driver (busy with a pencil and +a betting-book) to go to the Cock and Bottle, Putney. The man +brightened into a new being at the prospect. No need to hurry +him; he drove, unasked, at the top of his horse's speed. + +As the cab drew near to its destination the signs of a great +national excitement appeared, and multiplied. The lips of a +people pronounced, with a grand unanimity, the name of "Tinkler." +The heart of a people hung suspended (mostly in the public +houses) on the chances for and against the possibility of +replacing "Tinkler" by another man. The scene in front of the inn +was impressive in the highest degree. Even the London blackguard +stood awed and quiet in the presence of the national calamity. +Even the irrepressible man with the apron, who always turns up to +sell nuts and sweetmeats in a crowd, plied his trade in silence, +and found few indeed (to the credit of the nation be it spoken) +who had the heart to crack a nut at such a time as this. The +police were on the spot, in large numbers, and in mute sympathy +with the people, touching to see. Julius, on being stopped at the +door, mentioned his name--and received an ovation. His brother! +oh, heavens, his brother! The people closed round him, the people +shook hands with him, the people invoked blessings on his head. +Julius was half suffocated, when the police rescued him, and +landed him safe in the privileged haven on the inner side of the +public house door. A deafening tumult broke out, as he entered, +from the regions above stairs. A distant voice screamed, "Mind +yourselves!" A hatless shouting man tore down through the people +congregated on the stairs. "Hooray! Hooray! He's promised to do +it! He's entered for the race!" Hundreds on hundreds of voices +took up the cry. A roar of cheering burst from the people +outside. Reporters for the newspapers raced, in frantic +procession, out of the inn, and rushed into cabs to put the news +in print. The hand of the landlord, leading Julius carefully up +stairs by the arm, trembled with excitement. "His brother, +gentlemen! his brother!" At those magic words a lane was made +through the throng. At those magic words the closed door of the +council-chamber flew open; and Julius found himself among the +Athletes of his native country, in full parliament assembled. Is +any description of them needed? The description of Geoffrey +applies to them all. The manhood and muscle of England resemble +the wool and mutton of England, in this respect, that there is +about as much variety in a flock of athletes as in a flock of +sheep. Julius looked about him, and saw the same man in the same +dress, with the same health, strength, tone, tastes, habits, +conversation, and pursuits, repeated infinitely in every part of +the room. The din was deafening; the enthusiasm (to an +uninitiated stranger) something at once hideous and terrifying to +behold. Geoffrey had been lifted bodily on to the table, in his +chair, so as to be visible to the whole room. They sang round +him, they danced round him, they cheered round him, they swore +round him. He was hailed, in mandlin terms of endearment, by +grateful giants with tears in their eyes. "Dear old man!" +"Glorious, noble, splendid, beautiful fellow!" They hugged him. +They patted him on the back. They wrung his hands. They prodded +and punched his muscles. They embraced the noble legs that were +going to run the unexampled race. At the opposite end of the +room, where it was physically impossible to get near the hero, +the enthusiasm vented itself in feats of strength and acts of +destruction. Hercules I. cleared a space with his elbows, and +laid down--and Hercules II. took him up in his teeth. Hercules +III. seized the poker from the fireplace, and broke it on his +arm. Hercules IV. followed with the tongs, and shattered them on +his neck. The smashing of the furniture and the pulling down of +the house seemed likely to succeed--when Geoffrey's eye lighted +by accident on Julius, and Geoffrey's voice, calling fiercely for +his brother, hushed the wild assembly into sudden attention, and +turned the fiery enthusiasm into a new course. Hooray for his +brother! One, two, three--and up with his brother on our +shoulders! Four five, six--and on with his brother, over our +heads, to the other end of the room! See, boys--see! the hero has +got him by the collar! the hero has lifted him on the table! The +hero heated red-hot with his own triumph, welcomes the poor +little snob cheerfully, with a volley of oaths. "Thunder and +lightning! Explosion and blood! What's up now, Julius? What's up +now?" + +Julius recovered his breath, and arranged his coat. The quiet +little man, who had just muscle enough to lift a dictionary from +the shelf, and just training enough to play the fiddle, so far +from being daunted by the rough reception accorded to him, +appeared to feel no other sentiment in relation to it than a +sentiment of unmitigated conte mpt. + +"You're not frightened, are you?" said Geoffrey. "Our fellows are +a roughish lot, but they mean well." + +"I am not frightened," answered Julius. "I am only +wondering--when the Schools and Universities of England turn out +such a set of ruffians as these--how long the Schools and +Universities of England will last." + +"Mind what you are about, Julius! They'll cart you out of window +if they hear you." + +"They will only confirm my opinion of them, Geoffrey, if they +do." + +Here the assembly, seeing but not hearing the colloquy between +the two brothers, became uneasy on the subject of the coming +race. A roar of voices summoned Geoffrey to announce it, if there +was any thing wrong. Having pacified the meeting, Geoffrey turned +again to his brother, and asked him, in no amiable mood, what the +devil he wanted there? + +"I want to tell you something, before I go back to Scotland," +answered Julius. "My father is willing to give you a last chance. +If you don't take it, _my_ doors are closed against you as well +as _his._" + +Nothing is more remarkable, in its way, than the sound +common-sense and admirable self-restraint exhibited by the youth +of the present time when confronted by an emergency in which +their own interests are concerned. Instead of resenting the tone +which his brother had taken with him, Geoffrey instantly +descended from the pedestal of glory on which he stood, and +placed himself without a struggle in the hands which vicariously +held his destiny--otherwise, the hands which vicariously held the +purse. In five minutes more the meeting had been dismissed, with +all needful assurances relating to Geoffrey's share in the coming +Sports--and the two brothers were closeted together in one of the +private rooms of the inn. + +"Out with it!" said Geoffrey. "And don't be long about it." + +"I won't be five minutes," replied Julius. "I go back to-night by +the mail-train; and I have a great deal to do in the mean time. +Here it is, in plain words: My father consents to see you again, +if you choose to settle in life--with his approval. And my mother +has discovered where you may find a wife. Birth, beauty, and +money are all offered to you. Take them--and you recover your +position as Lord Holchester's son. Refuse them--and you go to +ruin your own way." + +Geoffrey's reception of the news from home was not of the most +reassuring kind. Instead of answering he struck his fist +furiously on the table, and cursed with all his heart some absent +woman unnamed. + +"I have nothing to do with any degrading connection which you may +have formed," Julius went on. "I have only to put the matter +before you exactly as it stands, and to leave you to decide for +yourself. The lady in question was formerly Miss Newenden--a +descendant of one of the oldest families in England. She is now +Mrs. Glenarm--the young widow (and the childless widow) of the +great iron-master of that name. Birth and fortune--she unites +both. Her income is a clear ten thousand a year. My father can +and will, make it fifteen thousand, if you are lucky enough to +persuade her to marry you. My mother answers for her personal +qualities. And my wife has met her at our house in London. She is +now, as I hear, staying with some friends in Scotland; and when I +get back I will take care that an invitation is sent to her to +pay her next visit at my house. It remains, of course, to be seen +whether you are fortunate enough to produce a favorable +impression on her. In the mean time you will be doing every thing +that my father can ask of you, if you make the attempt." + +Geoffrey impatiently dismissed that part of the question from all +consideration. + +"If she don't cotton to a man who's going to run in the Great +Race at Fulham," he said, "there are plenty as good as she is who +will! That's not the difficulty. Bother _that!_" + +"I tell you again, I have nothing to do with your difficulties," +Julius resumed. "Take the rest of the day to consider what I have +said to you. If you decide to accept the proposal, I shall expect +you to prove you are in earnest by meeting me at the station +to-night. We will travel back to Scotland together. You will +complete your interrupted visit at Lady Lundie's (it is +important, in my interests, that you should treat a person of her +position in the county with all due respect); and my wife will +make the necessary arrangements with Mrs. Glenarm, in +anticipation of your return to our house. There is nothing more +to be said, and no further necessity of my staying here. If you +join me at the station to-night, your sister-in-law and I will do +all we can to help you. If I travel back to Scotland alone, don't +trouble yourself to follow--I have done with you." He shook hands +with his brother, and went out. + +Left alone, Geoffrey lit his pipe and sent for the landlord. + +"Get me a boat. I shall scull myself up the river for an hour or +two. And put in some towels. I may take a swim." + +The landlord received the order--with a caution addressed to his +illustrious guest. + +"Don't show yourself in front of the house, Sir! If you let the +people see you, they're in such a state of excitement, the police +won't answer for keeping them in order." + +"All right. I'll go out by the back way." + +He took a turn up and down the room. What were the difficulties +to be overcome before he could profit by the golden prospect +which his brother had offered to him? The Sports? No! The +committee had promised to defer the day, if he wished it--and a +month's training, in his physical condition, would be amply +enough for him. Had he any personal objection to trying his luck +with Mrs. Glenarm? Not he! Any woman would do--provided his +father was satisfied, and the money was all right. The obstacle +which was really in his way was the obstacle of the woman whom he +had ruined. Anne! The one insuperable difficulty was the +difficulty of dealing with Anne. + +"We'll see how it looks," he said to himself, "after a pull up +the river!" + +The landlord and the police inspector smugled him out by the back +way unknown to the expectant populace in front The two men stood +on the river-bank admiring him, as he pulled away from them, with +his long, powerful, easy, beautiful stroke. + +"That's what I call the pride and flower of England!" said the +inspector. "Has the betting on him begun?" + +"Six to four," said the landlord, "and no takers." + + + +Julius went early to the station that night. His mother was very +anxious. "Don't let Geoffrey find an excuse in your example," she +said, "if he is late." + +The first person whom Julius saw on getting out of the carriage +was Geoffrey--with his ticket taken, and his portmanteau in +charge of the guard. + + +FOURTH SCENE.--WINDYGATES. + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH + +NEAR IT. + +THE Library at Windygates was the largest and the handsomest room +in the house. The two grand divisions under which Literature is +usually arranged in these days occupied the customary places in +it. On the shelves which ran round the walls were the books which +humanity in general respects--and does not read. On the tables +distributed over the floor were the books which humanity in +general reads--and does not respect. In the first class, the +works of the wise ancients; and the Histories, Biographies, and +Essays of writers of more modern times--otherwise the Solid +Literature, which is universally respected, and occasionally +read. In the second class, the Novels of our own day--otherwise +the Light Literature, which is universally read, and occasionally +respected. At Windygates, as elsewhere, we believed History to be +high literature, because it assumed to be true to Authorities (of +which we knew little)--and Fiction to be low literature, because +it attempted to be true to Nature (of which we knew less). At +Windygates as elsewhere, we were always more or less satisfied +with ourselves, if we were publicly discovered consulting our +History--and more or less ashamed of ourselves, if we were +publicly discovered devouring our Fiction. An architectural +peculiarity in the original arrangement of the library favored +the development of this common and curious form of human +stupidity. While a row of luxurious arm-chairs, in the main +thoroughfare of the room, invited the reader of solid lit erature +to reveal himself in the act of cultivating a virtue, a row of +snug little curtained recesses, opening at intervals out of one +of the walls, enabled the reader of light literature to conceal +himself in the act of indulging a vice. For the rest, all the +minor accessories of this spacious and tranquil place were as +plentiful and as well chosen as the heart could desire. And solid +literature and light literature, and great writers and small, +were all bounteously illuminated alike by a fine broad flow of +the light of heaven, pouring into the room through windows that +opened to the floor. + + + +It was the fourth day from the day of Lady Lundie's garden-party, +and it wanted an hour or more of the time at which the +luncheon-bell usually rang. + +The guests at Windygates were most of them in the garden, +enjoying the morning sunshine, after a prevalent mist and rain +for some days past. Two gentlemen (exceptions to the general +rule) were alone in the library. They were the two last gentlemen +in the would who could possibly be supposed to have any +legitimate motive for meeting each other in a place of literary +seclusion. One was Arnold Brinkworth, and the other was Geoffrey +Delamayn. + +They had arrived together at Windygates that morning. Geoffrey +had traveled from London with his brother by the train of the +previous night. Arnold, delayed in getting away at his own time, +from his own property, by ceremonies incidental to his position +which were not to be abridged without giving offense to many +worthy people--had caught the passing train early that morning at +the station nearest to him, and had returned to Lady Lundie's, as +he had left Lady Lundie's, in company with his friend. + +After a short preliminary interview with Blanche, Arnold had +rejoined Geoffrey in the safe retirement of the library, to say +what was still left to be said between them on the subject of +Anne. Having completed his report of events at Craig Fernie, he +was now naturally waiting to hear what Geoffrey had to say on his +side. To Arnold's astonishment, Geoffrey coolly turned away to +leave the library without uttering a word. + +Arnold stopped him without ceremony. + +"Not quite so fast, Geoffrey," he said. "I have an interest in +Miss Silvester's welfare as well as in yours. Now you are back +again in Scotland, what are you going to do?" + +If Geoffrey had told the truth, he must have stated his position +much as follows: + +He had necessarily decided on deserting Anne when he had decided +on joining his brother on the journey back. But he had advanced +no farther than this. How he was to abandon the woman who had +trusted him, without seeing his own dastardly conduct dragged +into the light of day, was more than he yet knew. A vague idea of +at once pacifying and deluding Anne, by a marriage which should +be no marriage at all, had crossed his mind on the journey. He +had asked himself whether a trap of that sort might not be easily +set in a country notorious for the looseness of its marriage +laws--if a man only knew how? And he had thought it likely that +his well-informed brother, who lived in Scotland, might be +tricked into innocently telling him what he wanted to know. He +had turned the conversation to the subject of Scotch marriages in +general by way of trying the experiment. Julius had not studied +the question; Julius knew nothing about it; and there the +experiment had come to an end. As the necessary result of the +check thus encountered, he was now in Scotland with absolutely +nothing to trust to as a means of effecting his release but the +chapter of accidents, aided by his own resolution to marry Mrs. +Glenarm. Such was his position, and such should have been the +substance of his reply when he was confronted by Arnold's +question, and plainly asked what he meant to do. + +"The right thing," he answered, unblushingly. "And no mistake +about it." + +"I'm glad to hear you see your way so plainly," returned Arnold. +"In your place, I should have been all abroad. I was wondering, +only the other day, whether you would end, as I should have +ended, in consulting Sir Patrick." + +Geoffrey eyed him sharply. + +"Consult Sir Patrick?" he repeated. "Why would you have done +that?" + +"_I_ shouldn't have known how to set about marrying her," replied +Arnold. "And--being in Scotland--I should have applied to Sir +Patrick (without mentioning names, of course), because he would +be sure to know all about it." + +"Suppose I don't see my way quite so plainly as you think," said +Geoffrey. " Would you advise me--" + +"To consult Sir Patrick? Certainly! He has passed his life in the +practice of the Scotch law. Didn't you know that?" + +"No." + +"Then take my advice--and consult him. You needn't mention names. +You can say it's the case of a friend." + +The idea was a new one and a good one. Geoffrey looked longingly +toward the door. Eager to make Sir Patrick his innocent +accomplice on the spot, he made a second attempt to leave the +library; and made it for the second time in vain. Arnold had more +unwelcome inquiries to make, and more advice to give unasked. + +"How have you arranged about meeting Miss Silvester?" he went on. +"You can't go to the hotel in the character of her husband. I +have prevented that. Where else are you to meet her? She is all +alone; she must be weary of waiting, poor thing. Can you manage +matters so as to see her to-day?" + +After staring hard at Arnold while he was speaking, Geoffrey +burst out laughing when he had done. A disinterested anxiety for +the welfare of another person was one of those refinements of +feeling which a muscular education had not fitted him to +understand. + +"I say, old boy," he burst out, "you seem to take an +extraordinary interest in Miss Silvester! You haven't fallen in +love with her yourself--have you?" + +"Come! come!" said Arnold, seriously. "Neither she nor I deserve +to be sneered at, in that way. I have made a sacrifice to your +interests, Geoffrey--and so has she." + +Geoffrey's face became serious again. His secret was in Arnold's +hands; and his estimate of Arnold's character was founded, +unconsciously, on his experience of himself. "All right," he +said, by way of timely apology and concession. "I was only +joking." + +"As much joking as you please, when you have married her," +replied Arnold. "It seems serious enough, to my mind, till then." +He stopped--considered--and laid his hand very earnestly on +Geoffrey's arm. "Mind!" he resumed. "You are not to breathe a +word to any living soul, of my having been near the inn!" + +"I've promised to hold my tongue, once already. What do you want +more?" + +"I am anxious, Geoffrey. I was at Craig Fernie, remember, when +Blanche came there! She has been telling me all that happened, +poor darling, in the firm persuasion that I was miles off at the +time. I swear I couldn't look her in the face! What would she +think of me, if she knew the truth? Pray be careful! pray be +careful!" + +Geoffrey's patience began to fail him. + +"We had all this out," he said, "on the way here from the +station. What's the good of going over the ground again?" + +"You're quite right," said Arnold, good-humoredly. "The fact +is--I'm out of sorts, this morning. My mind misgives me--I don't +know why." + +"Mind?" repeated Geoffrey, in high contempt. "It's flesh--that's +what's the matter with _you._ You're nigh on a stone over your +right weight. Mind he hanged! A man in healthy training don't +know that he has got a mind. Take a turn with the dumb-bells, and +a run up hill with a great-coat on. Sweat it off, Arnold! Sweat +it off!" + +With that excellent advice, he turned to leave the room for the +third time. Fate appeared to have determined to keep him +imprisoned in the library, that morning. On this occasion, it was +a servant who got in the way--a servant, with a letter and a +message. "The man waits for answer." + +Geoffrey looked at the letter. It was in his brother's +handwriting. He had left Julius at the junction about three hours +since. What could Julius possibly have to say to him now? + +He opened the letter. Julius had to announce that Fortune was +favoring them already. He had heard news of Mrs. Glenarm, as soon +as he reached home. She had called on his wife, during his +absence in London--she had been inv ited to the house--and she +had promised to accept the invitation early in the week. "Early +in the week," Julius wrote, "may mean to-morrow. Make your +apologies to Lady Lundie; and take care not to offend her. Say +that family reasons, which you hope soon to have the pleasure of +confiding to her, oblige you to appeal once more to her +indulgence--and come to-morrow, and help us to receive Mrs. +Glenarm." + +Even Geoffrey was startled, when he found himself met by a sudden +necessity for acting on his own decision. Anne knew where his +brother lived. Suppose Anne (not knowing where else to find him) +appeared at his brother's house, and claimed him in the presence +of Mrs. Glenarm? He gave orders to have the messenger kept +waiting, and said he would send back a written reply. + +"From Craig Fernie?" asked Arnold, pointing to the letter in his +friend's hand. + +Geoffrey looked up with a frown. He had just opened his lips to +answer that ill-timed reference to Anne, in no very friendly +terms, when a voice, calling to Arnold from the lawn outside, +announced the appearance of a third person in the library, and +warned the two gentlemen that their private interview was at an +end. + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH. + +NEARER STILL. + +BLANCHE stepped lightly into the room, through one of the open +French windows. + +"What are you doing here?" she said to Arnold. + +"Nothing. I was just going to look for you in the garden." + +"The garden is insufferable, this morning." Saying those words, +she fanned herself with her handkerchief, and noticed Geoffrey's +presence in the room with a look of very thinly-concealed +annoyance at the discovery. "Wait till I am married!" she +thought. "Mr. Delamayn will be cleverer than I take him to be, if +he gets much of his friend's company _then!_" + +"A trifle too hot--eh?" said Geoffrey, seeing her eyes fixed on +him, and supposing that he was expected to say something. + +Having performed that duty he walked away without waiting for a +reply; and seated himself with his letter, at one of the +writing-tables in the library. + +"Sir Patrick is quite right about the young men of the present +day," said Blanche, turning to Arnold. "Here is this one asks me +a question, and doesn't wait for an answer. There are three more +of them, out in the garden, who have been talking of nothing, for +the last hour, but the pedigrees of horses and the muscles of +men. When we are married, Arnold, don't present any of your male +friends to me, unless they have turned fifty. What shall we do +till luncheon-time? It's cool and quiet in here among the books. +I want a mild excitement--and I have got absolutely nothing to +do. Suppose you read me some poetry?" + +"While _he_ is here?" asked Arnold, pointing to the personified +antithesis of poetry--otherwise to Geoffrey, seated with his back +to them at the farther end of the library. + +"Pooh!" said Blanche. "There's only an animal in the room. We +needn't mind _him!_" + +"I say!" exclaimed Arnold. "You're as bitter, this morning, as +Sir Patrick himself. What will you say to Me when we are married +if you talk in that way of my friend?" + +Blanche stole her hand into Arnold's hand and gave it a little +significant squeeze. "I shall always be nice to _you,_" she +whispered--with a look that contained a host of pretty promises +in itself. Arnold returned the look (Geoffrey was unquestionably +in the way!). Their eyes met tenderly (why couldn't the great +awkward brute write his letters somewhere else?). With a faint +little sigh, Blanche dropped resignedly into one of the +comfortable arm-chairs--and asked once more for "some poetry," in +a voice that faltered softly, and with a color that was brighter +than usual. + +"Whose poetry am I to read?" inquired Arnold. + +"Any body's," said Blanche. "This is another of my impulses. I am +dying for some poetry. I don't know whose poetry. And I don't +know why." + +Arnold went straight to the nearest book-shelf, and took down the +first volume that his hand lighted on--a solid quarto, bound in +sober brown. + +"Well?" asked Blanche. "What have you found?" + +Arnold opened the volume, and conscientiously read the title +exactly as it stood: + +"Paradise Lost. A Poem. By John Milton." + +"I have never read Milton," said Blanche. "Have you?" + +"No." + +"Another instance of sympathy between us. No educated person +ought to be ignorant of Milton. Let us be educated persons. +Please begin." + +"At the beginning?" + +"Of course! Stop! You musn't sit all that way off--you must sit +where I can look at you. My attention wanders if I don't look at +people while they read." + +Arnold took a stool at Blanche's feet, and opened the "First +Book" of Paradise Lost. His "system" as a reader of blank verse +was simplicity itself. In poetry we are some of us (as many +living poets can testify) all for sound; and some of us (as few +living poets can testify) all for sense. Arnold was for sound. He +ended every line inexorably with a full stop; and he got on to +his full stop as fast as the inevitable impediment of the words +would let him. He began: + + + "Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit. + Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste. + Brought death into the world and all our woe. + With loss of Eden till one greater Man. + Restore us and regain the blissful seat. + Sing heavenly Muse--" + + +"Beautiful!" said Blanche. "What a shame it seems to have had +Milton all this time in the library and never to have read him +yet! We will have Mornings with Milton, Arnold. He seems long; +but we are both young, and we _may_ live to get to the end of +him. Do you know dear, now I look at you again, you don't seem to +have come back to Windygates in good spirits." + +"Don't I? I can't account for it." + +"I can. It's sympathy with Me. I am out of spirits too." + +"You!" + +"Yes. After what I saw at Craig Fernie, I grow more and more +uneasy about Anne. You will understand that, I am sure, after +what I told you this morning?" + +Arnold looked back, in a violent hurry, from Blanche to Milton. +That renewed reference to events at Craig Fernie was a renewed +reproach to him for his conduct at the inn. He attempted to +silence her by pointing to Geoffrey. + +"Don't forget," he whispered, "that there is somebody in the room +besides ourselves." + +Blanche shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. + +"What does _he_ matter?" she asked. "What does _he_ know or care +about Anne?" + +There was only one other chance of diverting her from the +delicate subject. Arnold went on reading headlong, two lines in +advance of the place at which he had left off, with more sound +and less sense than ever: + + + "In the beginning how the heavens and earth. + Rose out of Chaos or if Sion hill--" + + +At "Sion hill," Blanche interrupted him again. + +"Do wait a little, Arnold. I can't have Milton crammed down my +throat in that way. Besides I had something to say. Did I tell +you that I consulted my uncle about Anne? I don't think I did. I +caught him alone in this very room. I told him all I have told +you. I showed him Anne's letter. And I said, 'What do you think?' +He took a little time (and a great deal of snuff) before he would +say what he thought. When he did speak, he told me I might quite +possibly be right in suspecting Anne's husband to be a very +abominable person. His keeping himself out of my way was (just as +I thought) a suspicious circumstance, to begin with. And then +there was the sudden extinguishing of the candles, when I first +went in. I thought (and Mrs. Inchbare thought) it was done by the +wind. Sir Patrick suspects it was done by the horrid man himself, +to prevent me from seeing him when I entered the room. I am +firmly persuaded Sir Patrick is right. What do _you_ think?" + +"I think we had better go on," said Arnold, with his head down +over his book. "We seem to be forgetting Milton." + +"How you do worry about Milton! That last bit wasn't as +interesting as the other. Is there any love in Paradise Lost?" + +"Perhaps we may find some if we go on." + +"Very well, then. Go on. And be quick about it." + +Arnold was _so_ quick about it that he lost his place. Instead of +going on he went back. He read once more: + + + "In the beginning how the heavens and earth. + Rose out of Chaos or if Sion hill--" + + +"You read + that before," said Blanche. + +"I think not." + +"I'm sure you did. When you said 'Sion hill' I recollect I +thought of the Methodists directly. I couldn't have thought of +the Methodists, if you hadn't said 'Sion hill.' It stands to +reason." + +"I'll try the next page," said Arnold. "I can't have read that +before--for I haven't turned over yet." + +Blanche threw herself back in her chair, and flung her +handkerchief resignedly over her face. "The flies," she +explained. "I'm not going to sleep. Try the next page. Oh, dear +me, try the next page!" + +Arnold proceeded: + + + "Say first for heaven hides nothing from thy view. + Nor the deep tract of hell say first what cause. + Moved our grand parents in that happy state--" + + +Blanche suddenly threw the handkerchief off again, and sat bolt +upright in her chair. "Shut it up," she cried. "I can't bear any +more. Leave off, Arnold--leave off!" + +"What's, the matter now?" + +" 'That happy state,' " said Blanche. "What does 'that happy +state' mean? Marriage, of course! And marriage reminds me of +Anne. I won't have any more. Paradise Lost is painful. Shut it +up. Well, my next question to Sir Patrick was, of course, to know +what he thought Anne's husband had done. The wretch had behaved +infamously to her in some way. In what way? Was it any thing to +do with her marriage? My uncle considered again. He thought it +quite possible. Private marriages were dangerous things (he +said)--especially in Scotland. He asked me if they had been +married in Scotland. I couldn't tell him--I only said, 'Suppose +they were? What then?' 'It's barely possible, in that case,' says +Sir Patrick, 'that Miss Silvester may be feeling uneasy about her +marriage. She may even have reason--or may think she has +reason--to doubt whether it is a marriage at all.' " + +Arnold started, and looked round at Geoffrey still sitting at the +writing-table with his back turned on them. Utterly as Blanche +and Sir Patrick were mistaken in their estimate of Anne's +position at Craig Fernie, they had drifted, nevertheless, into +discussing the very question in which Geoffrey and Miss Silvester +were interested--the question of marriage in Scotland. It was +impossible in Blanche's presence to tell Geoffrey that he might +do well to listen to Sir Patrick's opinion, even at second-hand. +Perhaps the words had found their way to him? perhaps he was +listening already, of his own accord? + +(He _was_ listening. Blanche's last words had found their way to +him, while he was pondering over his half-finished letter to his +brother. He waited to hear more--without moving, and with the pen +suspended in his hand.) + +Blanche proceeded, absently winding her fingers in and out of +Arnold's hair as he sat at her feet: + +"It flashed on me instantly that Sir Patrick had discovered the +truth. Of course I told him so. He laughed, and said I mustn't +jump at conclusions We were guessing quite in the dark; and all +the distressing things I had noticed at the inn might admit of +some totally different explanation. He would have gone on +splitting straws in that provoking way the whole morning if I +hadn't stopped him. I was strictly logical. I said _I_ had seen +Anne, and _he_ hadn't--and that made all the difference. I said, +'Every thing that puzzled and frightened me in the poor darling +is accounted for now. The law must, and shall, reach that man, +uncle--and I'll pay for it!' I was so much in earnest that I +believe I cried a little. What do you think the dear old man did? +He took me on his knee and gave me a kiss; and he said, in the +nicest way, that he would adopt my view, for the present, if I +would promise not to cry any more; and--wait! the cream of it is +to come!--that he would put the view in quite a new light to me +as soon as I was composed again. You may imagine how soon I dried +my eyes, and what a picture of composure I presented in the +course of half a minute. 'Let us take it for granted,' says Sir +Patrick, 'that this man unknown has really tried to deceive Miss +Silvester, as you and I suppose. I can tell you one thing: it's +as likely as not that, in trying to overreach _her,_ he may +(without in the least suspecting it) have ended in overreaching +himself.' " + +(Geoffrey held his breath. The pen dropped unheeded from his +fingers. It was coming. The light that his brother couldn't throw +on the subject was dawning on it at last!) + +Blanche resumed: + +"I was so interested, and it made such a tremendous impression on +me, that I haven't forgotten a word. 'I mustn't make that poor +little head of yours ache with Scotch law,' my uncle said; 'I +must put it plainly. There are marriages allowed in Scotland, +Blanche, which are called Irregular Marriages--and very +abominable things they are. But they have this accidental merit +in the present case. It is extremely difficult for a man to +pretend to marry in Scotland, and not really to do it. And it is, +on the other hand, extremely easy for a man to drift into +marrying in Scotland without feeling the slightest suspicion of +having done it himself.' That was exactly what he said, Arnold. +When _we_ are married, it sha'n't be in Scotland!" + +(Geoffrey's ruddy color paled. If this was true he might be +caught himself in the trap which he had schemed to set for Anne! +Blanche went on with her narrative. He waited and listened.) + +"My uncle asked me if I understood him so far. It was as plain as +the sun at noonday, of course I understood him! 'Very well, +then--now for the application!' says Sir Patrick. 'Once more +supposing our guess to be the right one, Miss Silvester may be +making herself very unhappy without any real cause. If this +invisible man at Craig Fernie has actually meddled, I won't say +with marrying her, but only with pretending to make her his wife, +and if he has attempted it in Scotland, the chances are nine to +one (though _he_ may not believe it, and though _she_ may not +believe it) that he has really married her, after all.' My +uncle's own words again! Quite needless to say that, half an hour +after they were out of his lips, I had sent them to Craig Fernie +in a letter to Anne!" + +(Geoffrey's stolidly-staring eyes suddenly brightened. A light of +the devil's own striking illuminated him. An idea of the devil's +own bringing entered his mind. He looked stealthily round at the +man whose life he had saved--at the man who had devotedly served +him in return. A hideous cunning leered at his mouth and peeped +out of his eyes. "Arnold Brinkworth pretended to be married to +her at the inn. By the lord Harry! that's a way out of it that +never struck me before!" With that thought in his heart he turned +back again to his half-finished letter to Julius. For once in his +life he was strongly, fiercely agitated. For once in his life he +was daunted--and that by his Own Thought! He had written to +Julius under a strong sense of the necessity of gaining time to +delude Anne into leaving Scotland before he ventured on paying +his addresses to Mrs. Glenarm. His letter contained a string of +clumsy excuses, intended to delay his return to his brother's +house. "No," he said to himself, as he read it again. "Whatever +else may do--_this_ won't! " He looked round once more at Arnold, +and slowly tore the letter into fragments as he looked.) + +In the mean time Blanche had not done yet. "No," she said, when +Arnold proposed an adjournment to the garden; "I have something +more to say, and you are interested in it, this time." Arnold +resigned himself to listen, and worse still to answer, if there +was no help for it, in the character of an innocent stranger who +had never been near the Craig Fernie inn. + +"Well," Blanche resumed, "and what do you think has come of my +letter to Anne?" + +"I'm sure I don't know." + +"Nothing has come of it!" + +"Indeed?" + +"Absolutely nothing! I know she received the letter yesterday +morning. I ought to have had the answer to-day at breakfast." + +"Perhaps she thought it didn't require an answer." + +"She couldn't have thought that, for reasons that I know of. +Besides, in my letter yesterday I implored her to tell me (if it +was one line only) whether, in guessing at what her trouble was, +Sir Patrick and I had not guessed right. And here is the day +getting on, and no answer! What am I to conclude?" + +"I really can't say!" + +"Is it possible, Arnold, that we have _not_ guessed right, after +all? Is the wickedness of that man who blew the candles out +wickedness beyond our discovering? The doubt is so dreadful that +I have made up my mind not to bear it after to-day. I count on +your sympathy and assistance when to-morrow comes!" + +Arnold's heart sank. Some new complication was evidently +gathering round him. He waited in silence to hear the worst. +Blanche bent forward, and whispered to him. + +"This is a secret," she said. "If that creature at the +writing-table has ears for any thing but rowing and racing, he +mustn't hear this! Anne may come to me privately to-day while you +are all at luncheon. If she doesn't come and if I don't hear from +her, then the mystery of her silence must be cleared up; and You +must do it!" + +"I!" + +"Don't make difficulties! If you can't find your way to Craig +Fernie, I can help you. As for Anne, you know what a charming +person she is, and you know she will receive you perfectly, for +my sake. I must and will have some news of her. I can't break the +laws of the household a second time. Sir Patrick sympathizes, but +he won't stir. Lady Lundie is a bitter enemy. The servants are +threatened with the loss of their places if any one of them goes +near Anne. There is nobody but you. And to Anne you go to-morrow, +if I don't see her or hear from her to-day!" + +This to the man who had passed as Anne's husband at the inn, and +who had been forced into the most intimate knowledge of Anne's +miserable secret! Arnold rose to put Milton away, with the +composure of sheer despair. Any other secret he might, in the +last resort, have confided to the discretion of a third person. +But a woman's secret--with a woman's reputation depending on his +keeping it--was not to be confided to any body, under any stress +of circumstances whatever. "If Geoffrey doesn't get me out of +_this,_," he thought, "I shall have no choice but to leave +Windygates to-morrow." + +As he replaced the book on the shelf, Lady Lundie entered the +library from the garden. + +"What are you doing here?" she said to her step-daughter. + +"Improving my mind," replied Blanche. "Mr. Brinkworth and I have +been reading Milton." + +"Can you condescend so far, after reading Milton all the morning, +as to help me with the invitations for the dinner next week?" + +"If _you_ can condescend, Lady Lundie, after feeding the poultry +all the morning, I must be humility itself after only reading +Milton!" + +With that little interchange of the acid amenities of feminine +intercourse, step-mother and step-daughter withdrew to a +writing-table, to put the virtue of hospitality in practice +together. + +Arnold joined his friend at the other end of the library. + +Geoffrey was sitting with his elbows on the desk, and his +clenched fists dug into his cheeks. Great drops of perspiration +stood on his forehead, and the fragments of a torn letter lay +scattered all round him. He exhibited symptoms of nervous +sensibility for the first time in his life--he started when +Arnold spoke to him. + +"What's the matter, Geoffrey?" + +"A letter to answer. And I don't know how." + +"From Miss Silvester?" asked Arnold, dropping his voice so as to +prevent the ladies at the other end of the room from hearing him. + +"No," answered Geoffrey, in a lower voice still. + +"Have you heard what Blanche has been saying to me about Miss +Silvester?" + +"Some of it." + +"Did you hear Blanche say that she meant to send me to Craig +Fernie to-morrow, if she failed to get news from Miss Silvester +to-day?" + +"No." + +"Then you know it now. That is what Blanche has just said to me." + +"Well?" + +"Well--there's a limit to what a man can expect even from his +best friend. I hope you won't ask me to be Blanche's messenger +to-morrow. I can't, and won't, go back to the inn as things are +now." + +"You have had enough of it--eh?" + +"I have had enough of distressing Miss Silvester, and more than +enough of deceiving Blanche." + +"What do you mean by 'distressing Miss Silvester?' " + +"She doesn't take the same easy view that you and I do, Geoffrey, +of my passing her off on the people of the inn as my wife." + +Geoffrey absently took up a paper-knife. Still with his head +down, he began shaving off the topmost layer of paper from the +blotting-pad under his hand. Still with his head down, he +abruptly broke the silence in a whisper. + +"I say!" + +"Yes?" + +"How did you manage to pass her off as your wife?" + +"I told you how, as we were driving from the station here." + +"I was thinking of something else. Tell me again." + +Arnold told him once more what had happened at the inn. Geoffrey +listened, without making any remark. He balanced the paper-knife +vacantly on one of his fingers. He was strangely sluggish and +strangely silent. + +"All _that_ is done and ended," said Arnold shaking him by the +shoulder. "It rests with you now to get me out of the difficulty +I'm placed in with Blanche. Things must be settled with Miss +Silvester to-day." + +"Things _shall_ be settled." + +"Shall be? What are you waiting for?" + +"I'm waiting to do what you told me." + +"What I told you?" + +"Didn't you tell me to consult Sir Patrick before I married her?" + +"To be sure! so I did." + +"Well--I am waiting for a chance with Sir Patrick." + +"And then?" + +"And then--" He looked at Arnold for the first time. "Then," he +said, "you may consider it settled." + +"The marriage?" + +He suddenly looked down again at the blotting-pad. "Yes--the +marriage." + +Arnold offered his hand in congratulation. Geoffrey never noticed +it. His eyes were off the blotting-pad again. He was looking out +of the window near him. + +"Don't I hear voices outside?" he asked. + +"I believe our friends are in the garden," said Arnold. "Sir +Patrick may be among them. I'll go and see." + +The instant his back was turned Geoffrey snatched up a sheet of +note-paper. "Before I forget it!" he said to himself. He wrote +the word "Memorandum" at the top of the page, and added these +lines beneath it: + +"He asked for her by the name of his wife at the door. He said, +at dinner, before the landlady and the waiter, 'I take these +rooms for my wife.' He made _her_ say he was her husband at the +same time. After that he stopped all night. What do the lawyers +call this in Scotland?--(Query: a marriage?)" + +After folding up the paper he hesitated for a moment. "No!" he +thought, "It won't do to trust to what Miss Lundie said about it. +I can't be certain till I have consulted Sir Patrick himself." + +He put the paper away in his pocket, and wiped the heavy +perspiration from his forehead. He was pale--for _him,_ +strikingly pale--when Arnold came back. + +"Any thing wrong, Geoffrey?--you're as white as ashes." + +"It's the heat. Where's Sir Patrick?" + +"You may see for yourself." + +Arnold pointed to the window. Sir Patrick was crossing the lawn, +on his way to the library with a newspaper in his hand; and the +guests at Windygates were accompanying him. Sir Patrick was +smiling, and saying nothing. The guests were talking excitedly at +the tops of their voices. There had apparently been a collision +of some kind between the old school and the new. Arnold directed +Geoffrey's attention to the state of affairs on the lawn. + +"How are you to consult Sir Patrick with all those people about +him?" + +"I'll consult Sir Patrick, if I take him by the scruff of the +neck and carry him into the next county!" He rose to his feet as +he spoke those words, and emphasized them under his breath with +an oath. + +Sir Patrick entered the library, with the guests at his heels. + + +CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH. + +CLOSE ON IT. + +THE object of the invasion of the library by the party in the +garden appeared to be twofold. + +Sir Patrick had entered the room to restore the newspaper to the +place from which he had taken it. The guests, to the number of +five, had followed him, to appeal in a body to Geoffrey Delamayn. +Between these two apparently dissimilar motives there was a +connection, not visible on the surface, which was now to assert +itself. + +Of the five guests, two were middle-aged gentlemen belonging to +that large, but indistinct, division of the human family whom the +hand of Nature has painted in unobtrusive neutral tint. They had +absorbed the ideas of their time with such receptive capacity as +they possessed; and they occupied much the same place in society +which the chorus in an opera occupies on the stage. They echoed +the prevalent sentiment of the moment; and they gave the +solo-talker time to fetch his breath. + +The three remaining guests were on the right side of thirty. All +profoundly versed in horse-racing, in athletic sports, in pipes, +beer, billiards, and betting. All profoundly ignorant of every +thing else under the sun. All gentlemen by birth, and all marked +as such by the stamp of "a University education." They may be +personally described as faint reflections of Geoffrey; and they +may be numerically distinguished (in the absence of all other +distinction) as One, Two, and Three. + +Sir Patrick laid the newspaper on the table and placed himself in +one of the comfortable arm-chairs. He was instantly assailed, in +his domestic capacity, by his irrepressible sister-in-law. Lady +Lundie dispatched Blanche to him with the list of her guests at +the dinner. "For your uncle's approval, my dear, as head of the +family." + +While Sir Patrick was looking over the list, and while Arnold was +making his way to Blanche, at the back of her uncle's chair, One, +Two, and Three--with the Chorus in attendance on them--descended +in a body on Geoffrey, at the other end of the room, and appealed +in rapid succession to his superior authority, as follows: + +"I say, Delamayn. We want You. Here is Sir Patrick running a +regular Muck at us. Calls us aboriginal Britons. Tells us we +ain't educated. Doubts if we could read, write, and cipher, if he +tried us. Swears he's sick of fellows showing their arms and +legs, and seeing which fellow's hardest, and who's got three +belts of muscle across his wind, and who hasn't, and the like of +that. Says a most infernal thing of a chap. Says--because a chap +likes a healthy out-of-door life, and trains for rowing and +running, and the rest of it, and don't see his way to stewing +over his books--_therefore_ he's safe to commit all the crimes in +the calendar, murder included. Saw your name down in the +newspaper for the Foot-Race; and said, when we asked him if he'd +taken the odds, he'd lay any odds we liked against you in the +other Race at the University--meaning, old boy, your Degree. +Nasty, that about the Degree--in the opinion of Number One. Bad +taste in Sir Patrick to rake up what we never mention among +ourselves--in the opinion of Number Two. Un-English to sneer at a +man in that way behind his back--in the opinion of Number Three. +Bring him to book, Delamayn. Your name's in the papers; he can't +ride roughshod over You." + +The two choral gentlemen agreed (in the minor key) with the +general opinion. "Sir Patrick's views are certainly extreme, +Smith?" "I think, Jones, it's desirable to hear Mr. Delamayn on +the other side." + +Geoffrey looked from one to the other of his admirers with an +expression on his face which was quite new to them, and with +something in his manner which puzzled them all. + +"You can't argue with Sir Patrick yourselves," he said, "and you +want me to do it?" + +One, Two, Three, and the Chorus all answered, "Yes." + +"I won't do it." + +One, Two, Three, and the Chorus all asked, "Why?" + +"Because," answered Geoffrey, "you're all wrong. And Sir +Patrick's right." + +Not astonishment only, but downright stupefaction, struck the +deputation from the garden speechless. + +Without saying a word more to any of the persons standing near +him, Geoffrey walked straight up to Sir Patrick's arm-chair, and +personally addressed him. The satellites followed, and listened +(as well they might) in wonder. + +"You will lay any odds, Sir," said Geoffrey "against me taking my +Degree? You're quite right. I sha'n't take my Degree. You doubt +whether I, or any of those fellows behind me, could read, write, +and cipher correctly if you tried us. You're right again--we +couldn't. You say you don't know why men like Me, and men like +Them, may not begin with rowing and running and the like of that, +and end in committing all the crimes in the calendar: murder +included. Well! you may be right again there. Who's to know what +may happen to him? or what he may not end in doing before he +dies? It may be Another, or it may be Me. How do I know? and how +do you?" He suddenly turned on the deputation, standing +thunder-struck behind him. "If you want to know what I think, +there it is for you, in plain words." + +There was something, not only in the shamelessness of the +declaration itself, but in the fierce pleasure that the speaker +seemed to feel in making it, which struck the circle of +listeners, Sir Patrick included, with a momentary chill. + +In the midst of the silence a sixth guest appeared on the lawn, +and stepped into the library--a silent, resolute, unassuming, +elderly man who had arrived the day before on a visit to +Windygates, and who was well known, in and out of London, as one +of the first consulting surgeons of his time. + +"A discussion going on?" he asked. "Am I in the way?" + +"There's no discussion--we are all agreed," cried Geoffrey, +answering boisterously for the rest. "The more the merrier, Sir!" + +After a glance at Geoffrey, the surgeon suddenly checked himself +on the point of advancing to the inner part of the room, and +remained standing at the window. + +"I beg your pardon," said Sir Patrick, addressing himself to +Geoffrey, with a grave dignity which was quite new in Arnold's +experience of him. "We are not all agreed. I decline, Mr. +Delamayn, to allow you to connect me with such an expression of +feeling on your part as we have just heard. The language you have +used leaves me no alternative but to meet your statement of what +you suppose me to have said by my statement of what I really did +say. It is not my fault if the discussion in the garden is +revived before another audience in this room--it is yours," + +He looked as he spoke to Arnold and Blanche, and from them to the +surgeon standing at the window. + +The surgeon had found an occupation for himself which completely +isolated him among the rest of the guests. Keeping his own face +in shadow, he was studying Geoffrey's face, in the full flood of +light that fell on it, with a steady attention which must have +been generally remarked, if all eyes had not been turned toward +Sir Patrick at the time. + +It was not an easy face to investigate at that moment. + +While Sir Patrick had been speaking Geoffrey had seated himself +near the window, doggedly impenetrable to the reproof of which he +was the object. In his impatience to consult the one authority +competent to decide the question of Arnold's position toward +Anne, he had sided with Sir Patrick, as a means of ridding +himself of the unwelcome presence of his friends--and he had +defeated his own purpose, thanks to his own brutish incapability +of bridling himself in the pursuit of it. Whether he was now +discouraged under these circumstances, or whether he was simply +resigned to bide his time till his time came, it was impossible, +judging by outward appearances, to say. With a heavy dropping at +the corners of his mouth, with a stolid indifference staring dull +in his eyes, there he sat, a man forearmed, in his own obstinate +neutrality, against all temptation to engage in the conflict of +opinions that was to come. + +Sir Patrick took up the newspaper which he had brought in from +the garden, and looked once more to see if the surgeon was +attending to him. + +No! The surgeon's attention was absorbed in his own subject. +There he was in the same position, with his mind still hard at +work on something in Geoffrey which at once interested and +puzzled it! "That man," he was thinking to himself, "has come +here this morning after traveling from London all night. Does any +ordinary fatigue explain what I see in his face? No!" + +"Our little discussion in the garden," resumed Sir Patrick, +answering Blanche's inquiring look as she bent over him, "began, +my dear, in a paragraph here announcing Mr. Delamayn's +forthcoming appearance in a foot-race in the neighborhood of +London. I hold very unpopular opinions as to the athletic +displays which are so much in vogue in England just now. And it +is possible that I may have expressed those opinions a li ttle +too strongly, in the heat of discussion, with gentlemen who are +opposed to me--I don't doubt, conscientiously opposed--on this +question." + +A low groan of protest rose from One, Two, and Three, in return +for the little compliment which Sir Patrick had paid to them. +"How about rowing and running ending in the Old Bailey and the +gallows? You said that, Sir--you know you did!" + +The two choral gentlemen looked at each other, and agreed with +the prevalent sentiment. "It came to that, I think, Smith." "Yes, +Jones, it certainly came to that." + +The only two men who still cared nothing about it were Geoffrey +and the surgeon. There sat the first, stolidly +neutral--indifferent alike to the attack and the defense. There +stood the second, pursuing his investigation--with the growing +interest in it of a man who was beginning to see his way to the +end. + +"Hear my defense, gentlemen," continued Sir Patrick, as +courteously as ever. "You belong, remember, to a nation which +especially claims to practice the rules of fair play. I must beg +to remind you of what I said in the garden. I started with a +concession. I admitted--as every person of the smallest sense +must admit--that a man will, in the great majority of cases, be +all the fitter for mental exercise if he wisely combines physical +exercise along with it. The whole question between the two is a +question of proportion and degree, and my complaint of the +present time is that the present time doesn't see it. Popular +opinion in England seems to me to be, not only getting to +consider the cultivation of the muscles as of equal importance +with the cultivation of the mind, but to be actually +extending--in practice, if not in theory--to the absurd and +dangerous length of putting bodily training in the first place of +importance, and mental training in the second. To take a case in +point: I can discover no enthusiasm in the nation any thing like +so genuine and any thing like so general as the enthusiasm +excited by your University boat-race. Again: I see this Athletic +Education of yours made a matter of public celebration in schools +and colleges; and I ask any unprejudiced witness to tell me which +excites most popular enthusiasm, and which gets the most +prominent place in the public journals--the exhibition, indoors +(on Prize-day), of what the boys can do with their minds? or the +exhibition, out of doors (on Sports-day), of what the boys can do +with their bodies? You know perfectly well which performance +excites the loudest cheers, which occupies the prominent place in +the newspapers, and which, as a necessary consequence, confers +the highest social honors on the hero of the day." + +Another murmur from One, Two, and Three. "We have nothing to say +to that, Sir; have it all your own way, so far." + +Another ratification of agreement with the prevalent opinion +between Smith and Jones. + +"Very good," pursued Sir Patrick. "We are all of one mind as to +which way the public feeling sets. If it is a feeling to be +respected and encouraged, show me the national advantage which +has resulted from it. Where is the influence of this modern +outburst of manly enthusiasm on the serious concerns of life? and +how has it improved the character of the people at large? Are we +any of us individually readier than we ever were to sacrifice our +own little private interests to the public good? Are we dealing +with the serious social questions of our time in a conspicuously +determined, downright, and definite way? Are we becoming a +visibly and indisputably purer people in our code of commercial +morals? Is there a healthier and higher tone in those public +amusements which faithfully reflect in all countries the public +taste? Produce me affirmative answers to these questions, which +rest on solid proof, and I'll accept the present mania for +athletic sports as something better than an outbreak of our +insular boastfulness and our insular barbarity in a new form." + +"Question! question!" in a general cry, from One, Two, and Three. + +"Question! question!" in meek reverberation, from Smith and +Jones. + +"That is the question," rejoined Sir Patrick. "You admit the +existence of the public feeling and I ask, what good does it do?" + +"What harm does it do?" from One, Two, and Three. + +"Hear! hear!" from Smith and Jones. + +"That's a fair challenge," replied Sir Patrick. "I am bound to +meet you on that new ground. I won't point, gentlemen, by way of +answer, to the coarseness which I can see growing on our national +manners, or to the deterioration which appears to me to be +spreading more and more widely in our national tastes. You may +tell me with perfect truth that I am too old a man to be a fair +judge of manners and tastes which have got beyond my standards. +We will try the issue, as it now stands between us, on its +abstract merits only. I assert that a state of public feeling +which does practically place physical training, in its +estimation, above moral and mental training, is a positively bad +and dangerous state of feeling in this, that it encourages the +inbred reluctance in humanity to submit to the demands which +moral and mental cultivation must inevitably make on it. Which am +I, as a boy, naturally most ready to do--to try how high I can +jump? or to try how much I can learn? Which training comes +easiest to me as a young man? The training which teaches me to +handle an oar? or the training which teaches me to return good +for evil, and to love my neighbor as myself? Of those two +experiments, of those two trainings, which ought society in +England to meet with the warmest encouragement? And which does +society in England practically encourage, as a matter of fact?" + +"What did you say yourself just now?" from One, Two, and Three. + +"Remarkably well put!" from Smith and Jones. + +"I said," admitted Sir Patrick, "that a man will go all the +better to his books for his healthy physical exercise. And I say +that again--provided the physical exercise be restrained within +fit limits. But when public feeling enters into the question, and +directly exalts the bodily exercises above the books--then I say +public feeling is in a dangerous extreme. The bodily exercises, +in that case, will be uppermost in the youth's thoughts, will +have the strongest hold on his interest, will take the lion's +share of his time, and will, by those means--barring the few +purely exceptional instances--slowly and surely end in leaving +him, to all good moral and mental purpose, certainly an +uncultivated, and, possibly, a dangerous man." + +A cry from the camp of the adversaries: "He's got to it at last! +A man who leads an out-of-door life, and uses the strength that +God has given to him, is a dangerous man. Did any body ever hear +the like of that?" + +Cry reverberated, with variations, by the two human echoes: "No! +Nobody ever heard the like of that!" + +"Clear your minds of cant, gentlemen," answered Sir Patrick. "The +agricultural laborer leads an out-of-door life, and uses the +strength that God has given to him. The sailor in the merchant +service does the name. Both are an uncultivated, a shamefully +uncultivated, class--and see the result! Look at the Map of +Crime, and you will find the most hideous offenses in the +calendar, committed--not in the towns, where the average man +doesn't lead an out-of-door life, doesn't as a rule, use his +strength, but is, as a rule, comparatively cultivated--not in the +towns, but in the agricultural districts. As for the English +sailor--except when the Royal Navy catches and cultivates +him--ask Mr. Brinkworth, who has served in the merchant navy, +what sort of specimen of the moral influence of out-of-door life +and muscular cultivation _he_ is." + +"In nine cases out of ten," said Arnold, "he is as idle and +vicious as ruffian as walks the earth." + +Another cry from the Opposition: "Are _we_ agricultural laborers? +Are _we_ sailors in the merchant service?" + +A smart reverberation from the human echoes: "Smith! am I a +laborer?" "Jones! am I a sailor?" + +"Pray let us not be personal, gentlemen," said Sir Patrick. "I am +speaking generally, and I can only meet extreme objections by +pushing my argument to extreme limits. The laborer and the sailor +have served my purpose. If the laborer and + the sailor offend you, by all means let them walk off the stage! +I hold to the position which I advanced just now. A man may be +well born, well off, well dressed, well fed--but if he is an +uncultivated man, he is (in spite of all those advantages) a man +with special capacities for evil in him, on that very account. +Don't mistake me! I am far from saving that the present rage for +exclusively muscular accomplishments must lead inevitably +downward to the lowest deep of depravity. Fortunately for +society, all special depravity is more or less certainly the +result, in the first instance, of special temptation. The +ordinary mass of us, thank God, pass through life without being +exposed to other than ordinary temptations. Thousands of the +young gentlemen, devoted to the favorite pursuits of the present +time, will get through existence with no worse consequences to +themselves than a coarse tone of mind and manners, and a +lamentable incapability of feeling any of those higher and +gentler influences which sweeten and purify the lives of more +cultivated men. But take the other case (which may occur to any +body), the case of a special temptation trying a modern young man +of your prosperous class and of mine. And let me beg Mr. Delamayn +to honor with his attention what I have now to say, because it +refers to the opinion which I did really express--as +distinguished from the opinion which he affects to agree with, +and which I never advanced." + +Geoffrey's indifference showed no signs of giving way. "Go on!" +he said--and still sat looking straight before him, with heavy +eyes, which noticed nothing, and expressed nothing. + +"Take the example which we have now in view," pursued Sir +Patrick--"the example of an average young gentleman of our time, +blest with every advantage that physical cultivation can bestow +on him. Let this man be tried by a temptation which insidiously +calls into action, in his own interests, the savage instincts +latent in humanity--the instincts of self-seeking and cruelty +which are at the bottom of all crime. Let this man be placed +toward some other person, guiltless of injuring him, in a +position which demands one of two sacrifices: the sacrifice of +the other person, or the sacrifice of his own interests and his +own desires. His neighbor's happiness, or his neighbor's life, +stands, let us say, between him and the attainment of something +that he wants. He can wreck the happiness, or strike down the +life, without, to his knowledge, any fear of suffering for it +himself. What is to prevent him, being the man he is, from going +straight to his end, on those conditions? Will the skill in +rowing, the swiftness in running, the admirable capacity and +endurance in other physical exercises, which he has attained, by +a strenuous cultivation in this kind that has excluded any +similarly strenuous cultivation in other kinds--will these +physical attainments help him to win a purely moral victory over +his own selfishness and his own cruelty? They won't even help him +to see that it _is_ selfishness, and that it _is_ cruelty. The +essential principle of his rowing and racing (a harmless +principle enough, if you can be sure of applying it to rowing and +racing only) has taught him to take every advantage of another +man that his superior strength and superior cunning can suggest. +There has been nothing in his training to soften the barbarous +hardness in his heart, and to enlighten the barbarous darkness in +his mind. Temptation finds this man defenseless, when temptation +passes his way. I don't care who he is, or how high he stands +accidentally in the social scale--he is, to all moral intents and +purposes, an Animal, and nothing more. If my happiness stands in +his way--and if he can do it with impunity to himself--he will +trample down my happiness. If my life happens to be the next +obstacle he encounters--and if he can do it with impunity to +himself--he will trample down my life. Not, Mr. Delamayn, in the +character of a victim to irresistible fatality, or to blind +chance; but in the character of a man who has sown the seed, and +reaps the harvest. That, Sir, is the case which I put as an +extreme case only, when this discussion began. As an extreme case +only--but as a perfectly possible case, at the same time--I +restate it now." + +Before the advocates of the other side of the question could open +their lips to reply, Geoffrey suddenly flung off his +indifference, and started to his feet. + +"Stop!" he cried, threatening the others, in his fierce +impatience to answer for himself, with his clenched fist. + +There was a general silence. + +Geoffrey turned and looked at Sir Patrick, as if Sir Patrick had +personally insulted him. + +"Who is this anonymous man, who finds his way to his own ends, +and pities nobody and sticks at nothing?" he asked. "Give him a +name!" + +"I am quoting an example," said Sir Patrick. "I am not attacking +a man." + +"What right have you," cried Geoffrey--utterly forgetful, in the +strange exasperation that had seized on him, of the interest that +he had in controlling himself before Sir Patrick--"what right +have you to pick out an example of a rowing man who is an +infernal scoundrel--when it's quite as likely that a rowing man +may be a good fellow: ay! and a better fellow, if you come to +that, than ever stood in your shoes!" + +"If the one case is quite as likely to occur as the other (which +I readily admit)," answered Sir Patrick, "I have surely a right +to choose which case I please for illustration. (Wait, Mr. +Delamayn! These are the last words I have to say and I mean to +say them.) I have taken the example--not of a specially depraved +man, as you erroneously suppose--but of an average man, with his +average share of the mean, cruel, and dangerous qualities, which +are part and parcel of unreformed human nature--as your religion +tells you, and as you may see for yourself, if you choose to look +at your untaught fellow-creatures any where. I suppose that man +to be tried by a temptation to wickedness, out of the common; and +I show, to the best of my ability, how completely the moral and +mental neglect of himself, which the present material tone of +public feeling in England has tacitly encouraged, leaves him at +the mercy of all the worst instincts in his nature; and how +surely, under those conditions, he _must_ go down (gentleman as +he is) step by step--as the lowest vagabond in the streets goes +down under _his_ special temptation--from the beginning in +ignorance to the end in crime. If you deny my right to take such +an example as that, in illustration of the views I advocate, you +must either deny that a special temptation to wickedness can +assail a man in the position of a gentleman, or you must assert +that gentlemen who are naturally superior to all temptation are +the only gentlemen who devote themselves to athletic pursuits. +There is my defense. In stating my case, I have spoken out of my +own sincere respect for the interests of virtue and of learning; +out of my own sincere admiration for those young men among us who +are resisting the contagion of barbarism about them. In _their_ +future is the future hope of England. I have done." + +Angrily ready with a violent personal reply, Geoffrey found +himself checked, in his turn by another person with something to +say, and with a resolution to say it at that particular moment. + + + +For some little time past the surgeon had discontinued his steady +investigation of Geoffrey's face, and had given all his attention +to the discussion, with the air of a man whose self-imposed task +had come to an end. As the last sentence fell from the last +speaker's lips, he interposed so quickly and so skillfully +between Geoffrey and Sir Patrick, that Geoffrey himself was taken +by surprise, + +"There is something still wanting to make Sir Patrick's statement +of the case complete," he said. "I think I can supply it, from +the result of my own professional experience. Before I say what I +have to say, Mr. Delamayn will perhaps excuse me, if I venture on +giving him a caution to control himself." + +"Are _you_ going to make a dead set at me, too?" inquired +Geoffrey. + +"I am recommending you to keep your temper--nothing more. There +are plenty of men who can fly into a passion without doing +themselves any particular harm. You are not one of them." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I don't think the state of your health, Mr. Delamayn, is quite +so satisfactory as you may be disposed to consider it yourself." + +Geoffrey turned to his admirers and adherents with a roar of +derisive laughter. The admirers and adherents all echoed him +together. Arnold and Blanche smiled at each other. Even Sir +Patrick looked as if he could hardly credit the evidence of his +own ears. There stood the modern Hercules, self-vindicated as a +Hercules, before all eyes that looked at him. And there, +opposite, stood a man whom he could have killed with one blow of +his fist, telling him, in serious earnest, that he was not in +perfect health! + +"You are a rare fellow!" said Geoffrey, half in jest and half in +anger. "What's the matter with me?" + +"I have undertaken to give you, what I believe to be, a necessary +caution," answered the surgeon. "I have _not_ undertaken to tell +you what I think is the matter with you. That may be a question +for consideration some little time hence. In the meanwhile, I +should like to put my impression about you to the test. Have you +any objection to answer a question on a matter of no particular +importance relating to yourself?" + +"Let's hear the question first." + +"I have noticed something in your behavior while Sir Patrick was +speaking. You are as much interested in opposing his views as any +of those gentlemen about you. I don't understand your sitting in +silence, and leaving it entirely to the others to put the case on +your side--until Sir Patrick said something which happened to +irritate you. Had you, all the time before that, no answer ready +in your own mind?" + +"I had as good answers in my mind as any that have been made here +to-day." + +"And yet you didn't give them?" + +"No; I didn't give them." + +"Perhaps you felt--though you knew your objections to be good +ones--that it was hardly worth while to take the trouble of +putting them into words? In short, you let your friends answer +for you, rather than make the effort of answering for yourself?" + +Geoffrey looked at his medical adviser with a sudden curiosity +and a sudden distrust. + +"I say," he asked, "how do you come to know what's going on in my +mind--without my telling you of it?" + +"It is my business to find out what is going on in people's +bodies--and to do that it is sometimes necessary for me to find +out (if I can) what is going on in their minds. If I have rightly +interpreted what was going on in _your_ mind, there is no need +for me to press my question. You have answered it already." + +He turned to Sir Patrick next + +"There is a side to this subject," he said, "which you have not +touched on yet. There is a Physical objection to the present rage +for muscular exercises of all sorts, which is quite as strong, in +its way, as the Moral objection. You have stated the consequences +as they _ may_ affect the mind. I can state the consequences as +they _do_ affect the body." + +"From your own experience?" + +"From my own experience. I can tell you, as a medical man, that a +proportion, and not by any means a small one, of the young men +who are now putting themselves to violent athletic tests of their +strength and endurance, are taking that course to the serious and +permanent injury of their own health. The public who attend +rowing-matches, foot-races, and other exhibitions of that sort, +see nothing but the successful results of muscular training. +Fathers and mothers at home see the failures. There are +households in England--miserable households, to be counted, Sir +Patrick, by more than ones and twos--in which there are young men +who have to thank the strain laid on their constitutions by the +popular physical displays of the present time, for being broken +men, and invalided men, for the rest of their lives." + +"Do you hear that?" said Sir Patrick, looking at Geoffrey. + +Geoffrey carelessly nodded his head. His irritation had had time +to subside; the stolid indifference had got possession of him +again. He had resumed his chair--he sat, with outstretched legs, +staring stupidly at the pattern on the carpet. "What does it +matter to Me?" was the sentiment expressed all over him, from +head to foot. + +The surgeon went on. + +"I can see no remedy for this sad state of things," he said, "as +long as the public feeling remains what the public feeling is +now. A fine healthy-looking young man, with a superb muscular +development, longs (naturally enough) to distinguish himself like +others. The training-authorities at his college, or elsewhere, +take him in hand (naturally enough again) on the strength of +outward appearances. And whether they have been right or wrong in +choosing him is more than they can say, until the experiment has +been tried, and the mischief has been, in many cases, +irretrievably done. How many of them are aware of the important +physiological truth, that the muscular power of a man is no fair +guarantee of his vital power? How many of them know that we all +have (as a great French writer puts it) two lives in us--the +surface life of the muscles, and the inner life of the heart, +lungs, and brain? Even if they did know this--even with medical +men to help them--it would be in the last degree doubtful, in +most cases, whether any previous examination would result in any +reliable discovery of the vital fitness of the man to undergo the +stress of muscular exertion laid on him. Apply to any of my +brethren; and they will tell you, as the result of their own +professional observation, that I am, in no sense, overstating +this serious evil, or exaggerating the deplorable and dangerous +consequences to which it leads. I have a patient at this moment, +who is a young man of twenty, and who possesses one of the finest +muscular developments I ever saw in my life. If that young man +had consulted me, before he followed the example of the other +young men about him, I can not honestly say that I could have +foreseen the results. As things are, after going through a +certain amount of muscular training, after performing a certain +number of muscular feats, he suddenly fainted one day, to the +astonishment of his family and friends. I was called in and I +have watched the case since. He will probably live, but he will +never recover. I am obliged to take precautions with this youth +of twenty which I should take with an old man of eighty. He is +big enough and muscular enough to sit to a painter as a model for +Samson--and only last week I saw him swoon away like a young +girl, in his mother's arms." + +"Name!" cried Geoffrey's admirers, still fighting the battle on +their side, in the absence of any encouragement from Geoffrey +himself. + +"I am not in the habit of mentioning my patients' names," replied +the surgeon. "But if you insist on my producing an example of a +man broken by athletic exercises, I can do it." + +"Do it! Who is he?" + +"You all know him perfectly well." + +"Is he in the doctor's hands?" + +"Not yet." + +"Where is he?" + +"There!" + +In a pause of breathless silence--with the eyes of every person +in the room eagerly fastened on him--the surgeon lifted his hand +and pointed to Geoffrey Delamayn. + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH. + +TOUCHING IT. + +As soon as the general stupefaction was allayed, the general +incredulity asserted itself as a matter of course. + +The man who first declared that "seeing" was "believing" laid his +finger (whether he knew it himself or not) on one of the +fundamental follies of humanity. The easiest of all evidence to +receive is the evidence that requires no other judgment to decide +on it than the judgment of the eye--and it will be, on that +account, the evidence which humanity is most ready to credit, as +long as humanity lasts. The eyes of every body looked at +Geoffrey; and the judgment of every body decided, on the evidence +there visible, that the surgeon must be wrong. Lady Lundie +herself (disturbed over her dinner invitations) led the general +protest. "Mr. Delamayn in broken health!" she exclaimed, +appealing to the better sense of her eminent medical guest. +"Really, now, you can't expect us to believe that!" + +Stung into action for the second time by the startling assertion +of which he had been + made the subject, Geoffrey rose, and looked the surgeon, +steadily and insolently, straight in the face. + +"Do you mean what you say?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"You point me out before all these people--" + +"One moment, Mr. Delamayn. I admit that I may have been wrong in +directing the general attention to you. You have a right to +complain of my having answered too publicly the public challenge +offered to me by your friends. I apologize for having done that. +But I don't retract a single word of what I have said on the +subject of your health." + +"You stick to it that I'm a broken-down man?" + +"I do." + +"I wish you were twenty years younger, Sir!" + +"Why?" + +"I'd ask you to step out on the lawn there and I'd show you +whether I'm a broken-down man or not." + +Lady Lundie looked at her brother-in-law. Sir Patrick instantly +interfered. + +"Mr. Delamayn," he said, "you were invited here in the character +of a gentleman, and you are a guest in a lady's house." + +"No! no!" said the surgeon, good humoredly. "Mr. Delamayn is +using a strong argument, Sir Patrick--and that is all. If I +_were_ twenty years younger," he went on, addressing himself to +Geoffrey, "and if I _did_ step out on the lawn with you, the +result wouldn't affect the question between us in the least. I +don't say that the violent bodily exercises in which you are +famous have damaged your muscular power. I assert that they have +damaged your vital power. In what particular way they have +affected it I don't consider myself bound to tell you. I simply +give you a warning, as a matter of common humanity. You will do +well to be content with the success you have already achieved in +the field of athletic pursuits, and to alter your mode of life +for the future. Accept my excuses, once more, for having said +this publicly instead of privately--and don't forget my warning." + +He turned to move away to another part of the room. Geoffrey +fairly forced him to return to the subject. + +"Wait a bit," he said. "You have had your innings. My turn now. I +can't give it words as you do; but I can come to the point. And, +by the Lord, I'll fix you to it! In ten days or a fortnight from +this I'm going into training for the Foot-Race at Fulham. Do you +say I shall break down?" + +"You will probably get through your training." + +"Shall I get through the race?" + +"You may _possibly_ get through the race. But if you do--" + +"If I do?" + +"You will never run another." + +"And never row in another match?" + +"Never." + +"I have been asked to row in the Race, next spring; and I have +said I will. Do you tell me, in so many words, that I sha'n't be +able to do it?" + +"Yes--in so many words." + +"Positively?" + +"Positively." + +"Back your opinion!" cried Geoffrey, tearing his betting-book out +of his pocket. "I lay you an even hundred I'm in fit condition to +row in the University Match next spring." + +"I don't bet, Mr. Delamayn." + +With that final reply the surgeon walked away to the other end of +the library. Lady Lundie (taking Blanche in custody) withdrew, at +the same time, to return to the serious business of her +invitations for the dinner. Geoffrey turned defiantly, book in +hand, to his college friends about him. The British blood was up; +and the British resolution to bet, which successfully defies +common decency and common-law from one end of the country to the +other, was not to be trifled with. + +"Come on!" cried Geoffrey. "Back the doctor, one of you!" + +Sir Patrick rose in undisguised disgust, and followed the +surgeon. One, Two, and Three, invited to business by their +illustrious friend. shook their thick heads at him knowingly, and +answered with one accord, in one eloquent word--"Gammon!" + +"One of _you_ back him!" persisted Geoffrey, appealing to the two +choral gentlemen in the back-ground, with his temper fast rising +to fever heat. The two choral gentlemen compared notes, as usual. +"We weren't born yesterday, Smith?" "Not if we know it, Jones." + +"Smith!" said Geoffrey, with a sudden assumption of politeness +ominous of something unpleasant to come. + +Smith said "Yes?"--with a smile. + +"Jones!" + +Jones said "Yes?"--with a reflection of Smith. + +"You're a couple of infernal cads--and you haven't got a hundred +pound between you!" + +"Come! come!" said Arnold, interfering for the first time. "This +is shameful, Geoffrey!" + +"Why the"--(never mind what!)--"won't they any of them take the +bet?" + +"If you must be a fool," returned Arnold, a little irritably on +his side, "and if nothing else will keep you quiet, _I'll_ take +the bet." + +"An even hundred on the doctor!" cried Geoffrey. "Done with you!" + +His highest aspirations were satisfied; his temper was in perfect +order again. He entered the bet in his book; and made his excuses +to Smith and Jones in the heartiest way. "No offense, old chaps! +Shake hands!" The two choral gentlemen were enchanted with him. +"The English aristocracy--eh, Smith?" "Blood and breeding--ah, +Jones!" + +As soon as he had spoken, Arnold's conscience reproached him: not +for betting (who is ashamed of _that_ form of gambling in +England?) but for "backing the doctor." With the best intention +toward his friend, he was speculating on the failure of his +friend's health. He anxiously assured Geoffrey that no man in the +room could be more heartily persuaded that the surgeon was wrong +than himself. "I don't cry off from the bet," he said. "But, my +dear fellow, pray understand that I only take it to please +_you._" + +"Bother all that!" answered Geoffrey, with the steady eye to +business, which was one of the choicest virtues in his character. +"A bet's a bet--and hang your sentiment!" He drew Arnold by the +arm out of ear-shot of the others. "I say!" he asked, anxiously. +"Do you think I've set the old fogy's back up?" + +"Do you mean Sir Patrick?" + +Geoffrey nodded, and went on. + +"I haven't put that little matter to him yet--about marrying in +Scotland, you know. Suppose he cuts up rough with me if I try him +now?" His eye wandered cunningly, as he put the question, to the +farther end of the room. The surgeon was looking over a +port-folio of prints. The ladies were still at work on their +notes of invitation. Sir Patrick was alone at the book-shelves +immersed in a volume which he had just taken down. + +"Make an apology," suggested Arnold. "Sir Patrick may be a little +irritable and bitter; but he's a just man and a kind man. Say you +were not guilty of any intentional disrespect toward him--and you +will say enough." + +"All right!" + +Sir Patrick, deep in an old Venetian edition of The Decameron, +found himself suddenly recalled from medieval Italy to modern +England, by no less a person than Geoffrey Delamayn. + +"What do you want?" he asked, coldly. + +"I want to make an apology," said Geoffrey. "Let by-gones be +by-gones--and that sort of thing. I wasn't guilty of any +intentional disrespect toward you. Forgive and forget. Not half a +bad motto, Sir--eh?" + +It was clumsily expressed--but still it was an apology. Not even +Geoffrey could appeal to Sir Patrick's courtesy and Sir Patrick's +consideration in vain. + +"Not a word more, Mr. Delamayn!" said the polite old man. "Accept +my excuses for any thing which I may have said too sharply, on my +side; and let us by all means forget the rest." + +Having met the advance made to him, in those terms, he paused, +expecting Geoffrey to leave him free to return to the Decameron. +To his unutterable astonishment, Geoffrey suddenly stooped over +him, and whispered in his ear, "I want a word in private with +you." + +Sir Patrick started back, as if Geoffrey had tried to bite him. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Delamayn--what did you say?" + +"Could you give me a word in private?" + +Sir Patrick put back the Decameron; and bowed in freezing +silence. The confidence of the Honorable Geoffrey Delamayn was +the last confidence in the world into which he desired to be +drawn. "This is the secret of the apology!" he thought. "What can +he possibly want with Me?" + +"It's about a friend of mine," pursued Geoffrey; leading the way +toward one of the windows. "He's in a scrape, my friend is. And I +want to ask your advice. It's strictly private, you know." There +he came to a full stop--and looked to see what impression he had +produced, so far. + +Sir Patrick declined, either by word or g esture, to exhibit the +slightest anxiety to hear a word more. + +"Would you mind taking a turn in the garden?" asked Geoffrey. + +Sir Patrick pointed to his lame foot. "I have had my allowance of +walking this morning," he said. "Let my infirmity excuse me." + +Geoffrey looked about him for a substitute for the garden, and +led the way back again toward one of the convenient curtained +recesses opening out of the inner wall of the library. "We shall +be private enough here," he said. + +Sir Patrick made a final effort to escape the proposed +conference--an undisguised effort, this time + +"Pray forgive me, Mr. Delamayn. Are you quite sure that you apply +to the right person, in applying to _me?_" + +"You're a Scotch lawyer, ain't you?" + +"Certainly." + +"And you understand about Scotch marriages--eh?" + +Sir Patrick's manner suddenly altered. + +"Is _that_ the subject you wish to consult me on?" he asked. + +"It's not me. It's my friend." + +"Your friend, then?" + +"Yes. It's a scrape with a woman. Here in Scotland. My friend +don't know whether he's married to her or not." + +"I am at your service, Mr. Delamayn." + +To Geoffrey's relief--by no means unmixed with surprise--Sir +Patrick not only showed no further reluctance to be consulted by +him, but actually advanced to meet his wishes, by leading the way +to the recess that was nearest to them. The quick brain of the +old lawyer had put Geoffrey's application to him for assistance, +and Blanche's application to him for assistance, together; and +had built its own theory on the basis thus obtained. "Do I see a +connection between the present position of Blanche's governess, +and the present position of Mr. Delamayn's 'friend?' " thought +Sir Patrick. "Stranger extremes than _that_ have met me in my +experience. Something may come out of this." + +The two strangely-assorted companions seated themselves, one on +each side of a little table in the recess. Arnold and the other +guests had idled out again on to the lawn. The surgeon with his +prints, and the ladies with their invitations, were safely +absorbed in a distant part of the library. The conference between +the two men, so trifling in appearance, so terrible in its +destined influence, not over Anne's future only, but over the +future of Arnold and Blanche, was, to all practical purposes, a +conference with closed doors. + +"Now," said Sir Patrick, "what is the question?" + +"The question," said Geoffrey, "is whether my friend is married +to her or not?" + +"Did he mean to marry her?" + +"No." + +"He being a single man, and she being a single woman, at the +time? And both in Scotland?" + +"Yes." + +"Very well. Now tell me the circumstances." + +Geoffrey hesitated. The art of stating circumstances implies the +cultivation of a very rare gift--the gift of arranging ideas. No +one was better acquainted with this truth than Sir Patrick. He +was purposely puzzling Geoffrey at starting, under the firm +conviction that his client had something to conceal from him. The +one process that could be depended on for extracting the truth, +under those circumstances, was the process of interrogation. If +Geoffrey was submitted to it, at the outset, his cunning might +take the alarm. Sir Patrick's object was to make the man himself +invite interrogation. Geoffrey invited it forthwith, by +attempting to state the circumstances, and by involving them in +the usual confusion. Sir Patrick waited until he had thoroughly +lost the thread of his narrative--and then played for the winning +trick. + +"Would it be easier to you if I asked a few questions?" he +inquired, innocently. + +"Much easier." + +"I am quite at your service. Suppose we clear the ground to begin +with? Are you at liberty to mention names?" + +"No." + +"Places?" + +"No." + +"Dates?" + +"Do you want me to be particular?" + +"Be as particular as you can." + +"Will it do, if I say the present year?" + +"Yes. Were your friend and the lady--at some time in the present +year--traveling together in Scotland?" + +"No." + +"Living together in Scotland?" + +"No." + +"What _were_ they doing together in Scotland?" + +"Well--they were meeting each other at an inn." + +"Oh? They were meeting each other at an inn. Which was first at +the rendezvous?" + +"The woman was first. Stop a bit! We are getting to it now." He +produced from his pocket the written memorandum of Arnold's +proceedings at Craig Fernie, which he had taken down from +Arnold's own lips. "I've got a bit of note here," he went on. +"Perhaps you'd like to have a look at it?" + +Sir Patrick took the note--read it rapidly through to +himself--then re-read it, sentence by sentence, to Geoffrey; +using it as a text to speak from, in making further inquiries. + +" 'He asked for her by the name of his wife, at the door,' " read +Sir Patrick. "Meaning, I presume, the door of the inn? Had the +lady previously given herself out as a married woman to the +people of the inn?" + +"Yes." + +"How long had she been at the inn before the gentleman joined +her?" + +"Only an hour or so." + +"Did she give a name?" + +"I can't be quite sure--I should say not." + +"Did the gentleman give a name?" + +"No. I'm certain _he_ didn't." + +Sir Patrick returned to the memorandum. + +" 'He said at dinner, before the landlady and the waiter, I take +these rooms for my wife. He made _her_ say he was her husband, at +the same time.' Was that done jocosely, Mr. Delamayn--either by +the lady or the gentleman?" + +"No. It was done in downright earnest." + +"You mean it was done to look like earnest, and so to deceive the +landlady and the waiter?" + +"Yes." + +Sir Patrick returned to the memorandum. + +" 'After that, he stopped all night.' Stopped in the rooms he had +taken for himself and his wife?" + +"Yes." + +"And what happened the next day?" + +"He went away. Wait a bit! Said he had business for an excuse." + +"That is to say, he kept up the deception with the people of the +inn? and left the lady behind him, in the character of his wife?" + +"That's it." + +"Did he go back to the inn?" + +"No." + +"How long did the lady stay there, after he had gone?" + +"She staid--well, she staid a few days." + +"And your friend has not seen her since?" + +"No." + +"Are your friend and the lady English or Scotch?" + +"Both English." + +"At the time when they met at the inn, had they either of them +arrived in Scotland, from the place in which they were previously +living, within a period of less than twenty-one days?" + +Geoffrey hesitated. There could be no difficulty in answering for +Anne. Lady Lundie and her domestic circle had occupied Windygates +for a much longer period than three weeks before the date of the +lawn-party. The question, as it affected Arnold, was the only +question that required reflection. After searching his memory for +details of the conversation which had taken place between them, +when he and Arnold had met at the lawn-party, Geoffrey recalled a +certain reference on the part of his friend to a performance at +the Edinburgh theatre, which at once decided the question of +time. Arnold had been necessarily detained in Edinburgh, before +his arrival at Windygates, by legal business connected with his +inheritance; and he, like Anne, had certainly been in Scotland, +before they met at Craig Fernie, for a longer period than a +period of three weeks He accordingly informed Sir Patrick that +the lady and gentleman had been in Scotland for more than +twenty-one days--and then added a question on his own behalf: +"Don't let me hurry you, Sir--but, shall you soon have done?" + +"I shall have done, after two more questions," answered Sir +Patrick. "Am I to understand that the lady claims, on the +strength of the circumstances which you have mentioned to me, to +be your friend's wife?" + +Geoffrey made an affirmative reply. The readiest means of +obtaining Sir Patrick's opinion was, in this case, to answer, +Yes. In other words, to represent Anne (in the character of "the +lady") as claiming to be married to Arnold (in the character of +"his friend"). + +Having made this concession to circumstances, he was, at the same +time, quite cunning enough to see that it was of vital importance +to the purpose which he had in view, to confine himself strictly +to this one perversion of the truth. There could be plainly no +depending on the lawyer's opinion, unless that opinion was given +on the facts exactly a s they had occurred at the inn. To the +facts he had, thus far, carefully adhered; and to the facts (with +the one inevitable departure from them which had been just forced +on him) he determined to adhere to the end. + +"Did no letters pass between the lady and gentleman?" pursued Sir +Patrick. + +"None that I know of," answered Geoffrey, steadily returning to +the truth. + +"I have done, Mr. Delamayn." + +"Well? and what's your opinion?" + +"Before I give my opinion I am bound to preface it by a personal +statement which you are not to take, if you please, as a +statement of the law. You ask me to decide--on the facts with +which you have supplied me--whether your friend is, according to +the law of Scotland, married or not?" + +Geoffrey nodded. "That's it!" he said, eagerly. + +"My experience, Mr. Delamayn, is that any single man, in +Scotland, may marry any single woman, at any time, and under any +circumstances. In short, after thirty years' practice as a +lawyer, I don't know what is _not_ a marriage in Scotland." + +"In plain English," said Geoffrey, "you mean she's his wife?" + +In spite of his cunning; in spite of his self-command, his eyes +brightened as he said those words. And the tone in which he +spoke--though too carefully guarded to be a tone of triumph--was, +to a fine ear, unmistakably a tone of relief. + +Neither the look nor the tone was lost on Sir Patrick. + +His first suspicion, when he sat down to the conference, had been +the obvious suspicion that, in speaking of "his friend," Geoffrey +was speaking of himself. But, like all lawyers, he habitually +distrusted first impressions, his own included. His object, thus +far, had been to solve the problem of Geoffrey's true position +and Geoffrey's real motive. He had set the snare accordingly, and +had caught his bird. + +It was now plain to his mind--first, that this man who was +consulting him, was, in all probability, really speaking of the +case of another person: secondly, that he had an interest (of +what nature it was impossible yet to say) in satisfying his own +mind that "his friend" was, by the law of Scotland, indisputably +a married man. Having penetrated to that extent the secret which +Geoffrey was concealing from him, he abandoned the hope of making +any further advance at that present sitting. The next question to +clear up in the investigation, was the question of who the +anonymous "lady" might be. And the next discovery to make was, +whether "the lady" could, or could not, be identified with Anne +Silvester. Pending the inevitable delay in reaching that result, +the straight course was (in Sir Patrick's present state of +uncertainty) the only course to follow in laying down the law. He +at once took the question of the marriage in hand--with no +concealment whatever, as to the legal bearings of it, from the +client who was consulting him. + +"Don't rush to conclusions, Mr. Delamayn," he said. "I have only +told you what my general experience is thus far. My professional +opinion on the special case of your friend has not been given +yet." + +Geoffrey's face clouded again. Sir Patrick carefully noted the +new change in it. + +"The law of Scotland," he went on, "so far as it relates to +Irregular Marriages, is an outrage on common decency and +common-sense. If you think my language in thus describing it too +strong--I can refer you to the language of a judicial authority. +Lord Deas delivered a recent judgment of marriage in Scotland, +from the bench, in these words: 'Consent makes marriage. No form +or ceremony, civil or religious; no notice before, or publication +after; no cohabitation, no writing, no witnesses even, are +essential to the constitution of this, the most important +contract which two persons can enter into.'--There is a Scotch +judge's own statement of the law that he administers! Observe, at +the same time, if you please, that we make full legal provision +in Scotland for contracts affecting the sale of houses and lands, +horses and dogs. The only contract which we leave without +safeguards or precautions of any sort is the contract that unites +a man and a woman for life. As for the authority of parents, and +the innocence of children, our law recognizes no claim on it +either in the one case or in the other. A girl of twelve and a +boy of fourteen have nothing to do but to cross the Border, and +to be married--without the interposition of the slightest delay +or restraint, and without the slightest attempt to inform their +parents on the part of the Scotch law. As to the marriages of men +and women, even the mere interchange of consent which, as you +have just heard, makes them man and wife, is not required to be +directly proved: it may be proved by inference. And, more even +than that, whatever the law for its consistency may presume, men +and women are, in point of fact, held to be married in Scotland +where consent has never been interchanged, and where the parties +do not even know that they are legally held to be married +persons. Are you sufficiently confused about the law of Irregular +Marriages in Scotland by this time, Mr. Delamayn? And have I said +enough to justify the strong language I used when I undertook to +describe it to you?" + +"Who's that 'authority' you talked of just now?" inquired +Geoffrey. "Couldn't I ask _him?_" + +"You might find him flatly contradicted, if you did ask him by +another authority equally learned and equally eminent," answered +Sir Patrick. "I am not joking--I am only stating facts. Have you +heard of the Queen's Commission?" + +"No." + +"Then listen to this. In March, 'sixty-five, the Queen appointed +a Commission to inquire into the Marriage-Laws of the United +Kingdom. The Report of that Commission is published in London; +and is accessible to any body who chooses to pay the price of two +or three shillings for it. One of the results of the inquiry was, +the discovery that high authorities were of entirely contrary +opinions on one of the vital questions of Scottish marriage-law. +And the Commissioners, in announcing that fact, add that the +question of which opinion is right is still disputed, and has +never been made the subject of legal decision. Authorities are +every where at variance throughout the Report. A haze of doubt +and uncertainty hangs in Scotland over the most important +contract of civilized life. If no other reason existed for +reforming the Scotch marriage-law, there would be reason enough +afforded by that one fact. An uncertain marriage-law is a +national calamity." + +"You can tell me what you think yourself about my friend's +case--can't you?" said Geoffrey, still holding obstinately to the +end that he had in view. + +"Certainly. Now that I have given you due warning of the danger +of implicitly relying on any individual opinion, I may give my +opinion with a clear conscience. I say that there has not been a +positive marriage in this case. There has been evidence in favor +of possibly establishing a marriage--nothing more." + +The distinction here was far too fine to be appreciated by +Geoffrey's mind. He frowned heavily, in bewilderment and disgust. + +"Not married!" he exclaimed, "when they said they were man and +wife, before witnesses?" + +"That is a common popular error," said Sir Patrick. "As I have +already told you, witnesses are not legally necessary to make a +marriage in Scotland. They are only valuable--as in this case--to +help, at some future time, in proving a marriage that is in +dispute." + +Geoffrey caught at the last words. + +"The landlady and the waiter _might_ make it out to be a +marriage, then?" he said. + +"Yes. And, remember, if you choose to apply to one of my +professional colleagues, he might possibly tell you they were +married already. A state of the law which allows the interchange +of matrimonial consent to be proved by inference leaves a wide +door open to conjecture. Your friend refers to a certain lady, in +so many words, as his wife. The lady refers to your friend, in so +many words, as her husband. In the rooms which they have taken, +as man and wife, they remain, as man and wife, till the next +morning. Your friend goes away, without undeceiving any body. The +lady stays at the inn, for some days after, in the character of +his wife. And all these circumstances take place in the presence +o f competent witnesses. Logically--if not legally--there is +apparently an inference of the interchange of matrimonial consent +here. I stick to my own opinion, nevertheless. Evidence in proof +of a marriage (I say)--nothing more." + +While Sir Patrick had been speaking, Geoffrey had been +considering with himself. By dint of hard thinking he had found +his way to a decisive question on his side. + +"Look here!" he said, dropping his heavy hand down on the table." +I want to bring you to book, Sir! Suppose my friend had another +lady in his eye?" + +"Yes?" + +"As things are now--would you advise him to marry her?" + +"As things are now--certainly not!" + +Geoffrey got briskly on his legs, and closed the interview. + +"That will do," he said, "for him and for me." + +With those words he walked back, without ceremony, into the main +thoroughfare of the room. + +"I don't know who your friend is," thought Sir Patrick, looking +after him. "But if your interest in the question of his marriage +is an honest and a harmless interest, I know no more of human +nature than the babe unborn!" + +Immediately on leaving Sir Patrick, Geoffrey was encountered by +one of the servants in search of him. + +"I beg your pardon, Sir," began the man. "The groom from the +Honorable Mr. Delamayn's--" + +"Yes? The fellow who brought me a note from my brother this +morning?" + +"He's expected back, Sir--he's afraid he mustn't wait any +longer." + +"Come here, and I'll give you the answer for him." + +He led the way to the writing-table, and referred to Julius's +letter again. He ran his eye carelessly over it, until he reached +the final lines: "Come to-morrow, and help us to receive Mrs. +Glenarm." For a while he paused, with his eye fixed on that +sentence; and with the happiness of three people--of Anne, who +had loved him; of Arnold, who had served him; of Blanche, +guiltless of injuring him--resting on the decision that guided +his movements for the next day. After what had passed that +morning between Arnold and Blanche, if he remained at Lady +Lundie's, he had no alternative but to perform his promise to +Anne. If he returned to his brother's house, he had no +alternative but to desert Anne, on the infamous pretext that she +was Arnold's wife. + +He suddenly tossed the letter away from him on the table, and +snatched a sheet of note-paper out of the writing-case. "Here +goes for Mrs. Glenarm!" he said to himself; and wrote back to his +brother, in one line: "Dear Julius, Expect me to-morrow. G. D." +The impassible man-servant stood by while he wrote, looking at +his magnificent breadth of chest, and thinking what a glorious +"staying-power" was there for the last terrible mile of the +coming race. + +"There you are!" he said, and handed his note to the man. + +"All right, Geoffrey?" asked a friendly voice behind him. + +He turned--and saw Arnold, anxious for news of the consultation +with Sir Patrick. + +"Yes," he said. "All right." + +------------ NOTE.--There are certain readers who feel a +disposition to doubt Facts, when they meet with them in a work of +fiction. Persons of this way of thinking may be profitably +referred to the book which first suggested to me the idea of +writing the present Novel. The book is the Report of the Royal +Commissioners on The Laws of Marriage. Published by the Queen's +Printers For her Majesty's Stationery Office. (London, 1868.) +What Sir Patrick says professionally of Scotch Marriages in this +chapter is taken from this high authority. What the lawyer (in +the Prologue) says professionally of Irish Marriages is also +derived from the same source. It is needless to encumber these +pages with quotations. But as a means of satisfying my readers +that they may depend on me, I subjoin an extract from my list of +references to the Report of the Marriage Commission, which any +persons who may be so inclined can verify for themselves. + +_Irish Marriages_ (In the Prologue).--See Report, pages XII., +XIII., XXIV. + +_Irregular Marriages in Scotland._--Statement of the law by Lord +Deas. Report, page XVI.--Marriages of children of tender years. +Examination of Mr. Muirhead by Lord Chelmsford (Question +689).--Interchange of consent, established by inference. +Examination of Mr. Muirhead by the Lord Justice Clerk (Question +654)--Marriage where consent has never been interchanged. +Observations of Lord Deas. Report, page XIX.--Contradiction of +opinions between authorities. Report, pages XIX., XX.--Legal +provision for the sale of horses and dogs. No legal provision for +the marriage of men and women. Mr. Seeton's Remarks. Report, page +XXX.--Conclusion of the Commissioners. In spite of the arguments +advanced before them in favor of not interfering with Irregular +Marriages in Scotland, the Commissioners declare their opinion +that "Such marriages ought not to continue." (Report, page +XXXIV.) + +In reference to the arguments (alluded to above) in favor of +allowing the present disgraceful state of things to continue, I +find them resting mainly on these grounds: That Scotland doesn't +like being interfered with by England (!). That Irregular +Marriages cost nothing (!!). That they are diminishing in number, +and may therefore be trusted, in course of time, to exhaust +themselves (!!!). That they act, on certain occasions, in the +capacity of a moral trap to catch a profligate man (!!!!). Such +is the elevated point of view from which the Institution of +Marriage is regarded by some of the most pious and learned men in +Scotland. A legal enactment providing for the sale of your wife, +when you have done with her, or of your husband; when you "really +can't put up with him any longer," appears to be all that is +wanting to render this North British estimate of the "Estate of +Matrimony" practically complete. It is only fair to add that, of +the witnesses giving evidence--oral and written--before the +Commissioners, fully one-half regard the Irregular Marriages of +Scotland from the Christian and the civilized point of view, and +entirely agree with the authoritative conclusion already +cited--that such marriages ought to be abolished. + + W. C. + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST. + +DONE! + +ARNOLD was a little surprised by the curt manner in which +Geoffrey answered him. + +"Has Sir Patrick said any thing unpleasant?" he asked. + +"Sir Patrick has said just what I wanted him to say." + +"No difficulty about the marriage?" + +"None." + +"No fear of Blanche--" + +"She won't ask you to go to Craig Fernie--I'll answer for that!" +He said the words with a strong emphasis on them, took his +brother's letter from the table, snatched up his hat, and went +out. + +His friends, idling on the lawn, hailed him. He passed by them +quickly without answering, without so much as a glance at them +over his shoulder. Arriving at the rose-garden, he stopped and +took out his pipe; then suddenly changed his mind, and turned +back again by another path. There was no certainty, at that hour +of the day, of his being left alone in the rose-garden. He had a +fierce and hungry longing to be by himself; he felt as if he +could have been the death of any body who came and spoke to him +at that moment. With his head down and his brows knit heavily, he +followed the path to see what it ended in. It ended in a +wicket-gate which led into a kitchen-garden. Here he was well out +of the way of interruption: there was nothing to attract visitors +in the kitchen-garden. He went on to a walnut-tree planted in the +middle of the inclosure, with a wooden bench and a broad strip of +turf running round it. After first looking about him, he seated +himself and lit his pipe. + +"I wish it was done!" he said. + +He sat, with his elbows on his knees, smoking and thinking. +Before long the restlessness that had got possession of him +forced him to his feet again. He rose, and paced round and round +the strip of greensward under the walnut-tree, like a wild beast +in a cage. + +What was the meaning of this disturbance in the inner man? Now +that he had committed himself to the betrayal of the friend who +had trusted and served him, was he torn by remorse? + +He was no more torn by remorse than you are while your eye is +passing over this sentence. He was simply in a raging fever of +impatience to see himself safely la nded at the end which he had +in view. + +Why should he feel remorse? All remorse springs, more or less +directly, from the action of two sentiments, which are neither of +them inbred in the natural man. The first of these sentiments is +the product of the respect which we learn to feel for ourselves. +The second is the product of the respect which we learn to feel +for others. In their highest manifestations, these two feelings +exalt themselves, until the first he comes the love of God, and +the second the love of Man. I have injured you, and I repent of +it when it is done. Why should I repent of it if I have gained +something by it for my own self and if you can't make me feel it +by injuring Me? I repent of it because there has been a sense put +into me which tells me that I have sinned against Myself, and +sinned against You. No such sense as that exists among the +instincts of the natural man. And no such feelings as these +troubled Geoffrey Delamayn; for Geoffrey Delamayn was the natural +man. + +When the idea of his scheme had sprung to life in his mind, the +novelty of it had startled him--the enormous daring of it, +suddenly self-revealed, had daunted him. The signs of emotion +which he had betrayed at the writing-table in the library were +the signs of mere mental perturbation, and of nothing more. + +That first vivid impression past, the idea had made itself +familiar to him. He had become composed enough to see such +difficulties as it involved, and such consequences as it implied. +These had fretted him with a passing trouble; for these he +plainly discerned. As for the cruelty and the treachery of the +thing he meditated doing--that consideration never crossed the +limits of his mental view. His position toward the man whose life +he had preserved was the position of a dog. The "noble animal" +who has saved you or me from drowning will fly at your throat or +mine, under certain conditions, ten minutes afterward. Add to the +dog's unreasoning instinct the calculating cunning of a man; +suppose yourself to be in a position to say of some trifling +thing, "Curious! at such and such a time I happened to pick up +such and such an object; and now it turns out to be of some use +to me!"--and there you have an index to the state of Geoffrey's +feeling toward his friend when he recalled the past or when he +contemplated the future. When Arnold had spoken to him at the +critical moment, Arnold had violently irritated him; and that was +all. + +The same impenetrable insensibility, the same primitively natural +condition of the moral being, prevented him from being troubled +by the slightest sense of pity for Anne. "She's out of my way!" +was his first thought. "She's provided for, without any trouble +to Me! was his second. He was not in the least uneasy about her. +Not the slightest doubt crossed his mind that, when once she had +realized her own situation, when once she saw herself placed +between the two alternatives of facing her own ruin or of +claiming Arnold as a last resource, she would claim Arnold. She +would do it as a matter of course; because _he_ would have done +it in her place. + +But he wanted it over. He was wild, as he paced round and round +the walnut-tree, to hurry on the crisis and be done with it. Give +me my freedom to go to the other woman, and to train for the +foot-race--that's what I want. _They_ injured? Confusion to them +both! It's I who am injured by them. They are the worst enemies I +have! They stand in my way. + +How to be rid of them? There was the difficulty. He had made up +his mind to be rid of them that day. How was he to begin? + +There was no picking a quarrel with Arnold, and so beginning with +_him._ This course of proceeding, in Arnold's position toward +Blanche, would lead to a scandal at the outset--a scandal which +would stand in the way of his making the right impression on Mrs. +Glenarm. The woman--lonely and friendless, with her sex and her +position both against her if _she_ tried to make a scandal of +it--the woman was the one to begin with. Settle it at once and +forever with Anne; and leave Arnold to hear of it and deal with +it, sooner or later, no matter which. + +How was he to break it to her before the day was out? + +By going to the inn and openly addressing her to her face as Mrs. +Arnold Brinkworth? No! He had had enough, at Windygates, of +meeting her face to face. The easy way was to write to her, and +send the letter, by the first messenger he could find, to the +inn. She might appear afterward at Windygates; she might follow +him to his brother's; she might appeal to his father. It didn't +matter; he had got the whip-hand of her now. "You are a married +woman." There was the one sufficient answer, which was strong +enough to back him in denying any thing! + +He made out the letter in his own mind. "Something like this +would do," he thought, as he went round and round the +walnut-tree: "You may be surprised not to have seen me. You have +only yourself to thank for it. I know what took place between you +and him at the inn. I have had a lawyer's advice. You are Arnold +Brinkworth's wife. I wish you joy, and good-by forever." Address +those lines: "To Mrs. Arnold Brinkworth;" instruct the messenger +to leave the letter late that night, without waiting for an +answer; start the first thing the next morning for his brother's +house; and behold, it was done! + +But even here there was an obstacle--one last exasperating +obstacle--still in the way. + +If she was known at the inn by any name at all, it was by the +name of Mrs. Silvester. A letter addressed to "Mrs. Arnold +Brinkworth" would probably not be taken in at the door; or if it +was admitted. and if it was actually offered to her, she might +decline to receive it, as a letter not addressed to herself. A +man of readier mental resources would have seen that the name on +the outside of the letter mattered little or nothing, so long as +the contents were read by the person to whom they were addressed. +But Geoffrey's was the order of mind which expresses disturbance +by attaching importance to trifles. He attached an absurd +importance to preserving absolute consistency in his letter, +outside and in. If he declared her to be Arnold Brinkworth's +wife, he must direct to her as Arnold Brinkworth's wife; or who +could tell what the law might say, or what scrape he might not +get himself into by a mere scratch of the pen! The more he +thought of it, the more persuaded he felt of his own cleverness +here, and the hotter and the angrier he grew. + +There is a way out of every thing. And there was surely a way out +of this, if he could only see it. + +He failed to see it. After dealing with all the great +difficulties, the small difficulty proved too much for him. It +struck him that he might have been thinking too long about +it--considering that he was not accustomed to thinking long about +any thing. Besides, his head was getting giddy, with going +mechanically round and round the tree. He irritably turned his +back on the tree and struck into another path: resolved to think +of something else, and then to return to his difficulty, and see +it with a new eye. + +Leaving his thoughts free to wander where they liked, his +thoughts naturally busied themselves with the next subject that +was uppermost in his mind, the subject of the Foot-Race. In a +week's time his arrangements ought to be made. Now, as to the +training, first. + +He decided on employing two trainers this time. One to travel to +Scotland, and begin with him at his brother's house. The other to +take him up, with a fresh eye to him, on his return to London. He +turned over in his mind the performances of the formidable rival +against whom he was to be matched. That other man was the +swiftest runner of the two. The betting in Geoffrey's favor was +betting which calculated on the unparalleled length of the race, +and on Geoffrey's prodigious powers of endurance. How long he +should "wait on" the man? Whereabouts it would be safe to "pick +the man up?" How near the end to calculate the man's exhaustion +to a nicety, and "put on the spurt," and pass him? These were +nice points to decide. The deliberations of a +pedestrian-privy-council would be required to help him under this +heavy responsibility. What men coul d he trust? He could trust A. +and B.--both of them authorities: both of them stanch. Query +about C.? As an authority, unexceptionable; as a man, doubtful. +The problem relating to C. brought him to a standstill--and +declined to be solved, even then. Never mind! he could always +take the advice of A. and B. In the mean time devote C. to the +infernal regions; and, thus dismissing him, try and think of +something else. What else? Mrs. Glenarm? Oh, bother the women! +one of them is the same as another. They all waddle when they +run; and they all fill their stomachs before dinner with sloppy +tea. That's the only difference between women and men--the rest +is nothing but a weak imitation of Us. Devote the women to the +infernal regions; and, so dismissing _them,_ try and think of +something else. Of what? Of something worth thinking of, this +time--of filling another pipe. + +He took out his tobacco-pouch; and suddenly suspended operations +at the moment of opening it. + +What was the object he saw, on the other side of a row of dwarf +pear-trees, away to the right? A woman--evidently a servant by +her dress--stooping down with her back to him, gathering +something: herbs they looked like, as well as he could make them +out at the distance. + +What was that thing hanging by a string at the woman's side? A +slate? Yes. What the deuce did she want with a slate at her side? +He was in search of something to divert his mind--and here it was +found. "Any thing will do for me," he thought. "Suppose I 'chaff' +her a little about her slate?" + +He called to the woman across the pear-trees. "Hullo!" + +The woman raised herself, and advanced toward him slowly--looking +at him, as she came on, with the sunken eyes, the sorrow-stricken +face, the stony tranquillity of Hester Dethridge. + +Geoffrey was staggered. He had not bargained for exchanging the +dullest producible vulgarities of human speech (called in the +language of slang, "Chaff") with such a woman as this. + +"What's that slate for?" he asked, not knowing what else to say, +to begin with. + +The woman lifted her hand to her lips--touched them--and shook +her head. + +"Dumb?" + +The woman bowed her head. + +"Who are you?" + +The woman wrote on her slate, and handed it to him over the +pear-trees. He read:--"I am the cook." + +"Well, cook, were you born dumb?" + +The woman shook her head. + +"What struck you dumb?" + +The woman wrote on her slate:--"A blow." + +"Who gave you the blow?" + +She shook her head. + +"Won't you tell me?" + +She shook her head again. + +Her eyes had rested on his face while he was questioning her; +staring at him, cold, dull, and changeless as the eyes of a +corpse. Firm as his nerves were--dense as he was, on all ordinary +occasions, to any thing in the shape of an imaginative +impression--the eyes of the dumb cook slowly penetrated him with +a stealthy inner chill. Something crept at the marrow of his +back, and shuddered under the roots of his hair. He felt a sudden +impulse to get away from her. It was simple enough; he had only +to say good-morning, and go on. He did say good-morning--but he +never moved. He put his hand into his pocket, and offered her +some money, as a way of making _her_ go. She stretched out her +hand across the pear-trees to take it--and stopped abruptly, with +her arm suspended in the air. A sinister change passed over the +deathlike tranquillity of her face. Her closed lips slowly +dropped apart. Her dull eyes slowly dilated; looked away, +sideways, from _his_ eyes; stopped again; and stared, rigid and +glittering, over his shoulder--stared as if they saw a sight of +horror behind him. "What the devil are you looking at?" he +asked--and turned round quickly, with a start. There was neither +person nor thing to be seen behind him. He turned back again to +the woman. The woman had left him, under the influence of some +sudden panic. She was hurrying away from him--running, old as she +was--flying the sight of him, as if the sight of him was the +pestilence. + +"Mad!" he thought--and turned his back on the sight of her. + +He found himself (hardly knowing how he had got there) under the +walnut-tree once more. In a few minutes his hardy nerves had +recovered themselves--he could laugh over the remembrance of the +strange impression that had been produced on him. "Frightened for +the first time in my life," he thought--"and that by an old +woman! It's time I went into training again, when things have +come to this!" + +He looked at his watch. It was close on the luncheon hour up at +the house; and he had not decided yet what to do about his letter +to Anne. He resolved to decide, then and there. + +The woman--the dumb woman, with the stony face and the horrid +eyes--reappeared in his thoughts, and got in the way of his +decision. Pooh! some crazed old servant, who might once have been +cook; who was kept out of charity now. Nothing more important +than that. No more of her! no more of her! + +He laid himself down on the grass, and gave his mind to the +serious question. How to address Anne as "Mrs. Arnold +Brinkworth?" and how to make sure of her receiving the letter? + +The dumb old woman got in his way again. + +He closed his eyes impatiently, and tried to shut her out in a +darkness of his own making. + +The woman showed herself through the darkness. He saw her, as if +he had just asked her a question, writing on her slate. What she +wrote he failed to make out. It was all over in an instant. He +started up, with a feeling of astonishment at himself--and, at +the same moment his brain cleared with the suddenness of a flash +of light. He saw his way, without a conscious effort on his own +part, through the difficulty that had troubled him. Two +envelopes, of course: an inner one, unsealed, and addressed to +"Mrs. Arnold Brinkworth;" an outer one, sealed, and addressed to +"Mrs. Silvester:" and there was the problem solved! Surely the +simplest problem that had ever puzzled a stupid head. + +Why had he not seen it before? Impossible to say. + +How came he to have seen it now? + +The dumb old woman reappeared in his thoughts--as if the answer +to the question lay in something connected with _her._ + +He became alarmed about himself, for the first time in his life. +Had this persistent impression, produced by nothing but a crazy +old woman, any thing to do with the broken health which the +surgeon had talked about? Was his head on the turn? Or had he +smoked too much on an empty stomach, and gone too long (after +traveling all night) without his customary drink of ale? + +He left the garden to put that latter theory to the test +forthwith. The betting would have gone dead against him if the +public had seen him at that moment. He looked haggard and +anxious--and with good reason too. His nervous system had +suddenly forced itself on his notice, without the slightest +previous introduction, and was saying (in an unknown tongue), +Here I am! + +Returning to the purely ornamental part of the grounds, Geoffrey +encountered one of the footmen giving a message to one of the +gardeners. He at once asked for the butler--as the only safe +authority to consult in the present emergency. + +Conducted to the butler's pantry, Geoffrey requested that +functionary to produce a jug of his oldest ale, with appropriate +solid nourishment in the shape of "a hunk of bread and cheese." + +The butler stared. As a form of condescension among the upper +classes this was quite new to him. + +"Luncheon will be ready directly, Sir." + +"What is there for lunch?" + +The butler ran over an appetizing list of good dishes and rare +wines. + +"The devil take your kickshaws!" said Geoffrey. "Give me my old +ale, and my hunk of bread and cheese." + +"Where will you take them, Sir?" + +"Here, to be sure! And the sooner the better." + +The butler issued the necessary orders with all needful alacrity. +He spread the simple refreshment demanded, before his +distinguished guest, in a state of blank bewilderment. Here was a +nobleman's son, and a public celebrity into the bargain, filling +himself with bread and cheese and ale, in at once the most +voracious and the most unpretending manner, at _his_ table! The +butler ventured on a little complimentary familiarity. He smiled, +and touched the betting-book in his breast-pocket. "I've put six +pound on you, Sir, for the + Race." "All right, old boy! you shall win your money!" With +those noble words the honorable gentleman clapped him on the +back, and held out his tumbler for some more ale. The butler felt +trebly an Englishman as he filled the foaming glass. Ah! foreign +nations may have their revolutions! foreign aristocracies may +tumble down! The British aristocracy lives in the hearts of the +people, and lives forever! + +"Another!" said Geoffrey, presenting his empty glass. "Here's +luck!" He tossed off his liquor at a draught, and nodded to the +butler, and went out. + +Had the experiment succeeded? Had he proved his own theory about +himself to be right? Not a doubt of it! An empty stomach, and a +determination of tobacco to the head--these were the true causes +of that strange state of mind into which he had fallen in the +kitchen-garden. The dumb woman with the stony face vanished as if +in a mist. He felt nothing now but a comfortable buzzing in his +head, a genial warmth all over him, and an unlimited capacity for +carrying any responsibility that could rest on mortal shoulders. +Geoffrey was himself again. + +He went round toward the library, to write his letter to +Anne--and so have done with that, to begin with. The company had +collected in the library waiting for the luncheon-bell. All were +idly talking; and some would be certain, if he showed himself, to +fasten on _him._ He turned back again, without showing himself. +The only way of writing in peace and quietness would be to wait +until they were all at luncheon, and then return to the library. +The same opportunity would serve also for finding a messenger to +take the letter, without exciting attention, and for going away +afterward, unseen, on a long walk by himself. An absence of two +or three hours would cast the necessary dust in Arnold's eyes; +for it would be certainly interpreted by him as meaning absence +at an interview with Anne. + +He strolled idly through the grounds, farther and farther away +from the house. + + + +The talk in the library--aimless and empty enough, for the most +part--was talk to the purpose, in one corner of the room, in +which Sir Patrick and Blanche were sitting together. + +"Uncle! I have been watching you for the last minute or two." + +"At my age, Blanche? that is paying me a very pretty compliment." + +"Do you know what I have seen?" + +"You have seen an old gentleman in want of his lunch." + +"I have seen an old gentleman with something on his mind. What is +it?" + +"Suppressed gout, my dear." + +"That won't do! I am not to be put off in that way. Uncle! I want +to know--" + +"Stop there, Blanche! A young lady who says she 'wants to know,' +expresses very dangerous sentiments. Eve 'wanted to know'--and +see what it led to. Faust 'wanted to know'--and got into bad +company, as the necessary result." + +"You are feeling anxious about something," persisted Blanche. +"And, what is more, Sir Patrick, you behaved in a most +unaccountable manner a little while since." + +"When?" + +"When you went and hid yourself with Mr. Delamayn in that snug +corner there. I saw you lead the way in, while I was at work on +Lady Lundie's odious dinner-invitations." + +"Oh! you call that being at work, do you? I wonder whether there +was ever a woman yet who could give the whole of her mind to any +earthly thing that she had to do?" + +"Never mind the women! What subject in common could you and Mr. +Delamayn possibly have to talk about? And why do I see a wrinkle +between your eyebrows, now you have done with him?--a wrinkle +which certainly wasn't there before you had that private +conference together?" + +Before answering, Sir Patrick considered whether he should take +Blanche into his confidence or not. The attempt to identify +Geoffrey's unnamed "lady," which he was determined to make, would +lead him to Craig Fernie, and would no doubt end in obliging him +to address himself to Anne. Blanche's intimate knowledge of her +friend might unquestionably be made useful to him under these +circumstances; and Blanche's discretion was to be trusted in any +matter in which Miss Silvester's interests were concerned. On the +other hand, caution was imperatively necessary, in the present +imperfect state of his information--and caution, in Sir Patrick's +mind, carried the day. He decided to wait and see what came first +of his investigation at the inn. + +"Mr. Delamayn consulted me on a dry point of law, in which a +friend of his was interested," said Sir Patrick. "You have wasted +your curiosity, my dear, on a subject totally unworthy of a +lady's notice." + +Blanche's penetration was not to be deceived on such easy terms +as these. "Why not say at once that you won't tell me?" she +rejoined. "_You_ shutting yourself up with Mr. Delamayn to talk +law! _You_ looking absent and anxious about it afterward! I am a +very unhappy girl!" said Blanche, with a little, bitter sigh. +"There is something in me that seems to repel the people I love. +Not a word in confidence can I get from Anne. And not a word in +confidence can I get from you. And I do so long to sympathize! +It's very hard. I think I shall go to Arnold." + +Sir Patrick took his niece's hand. + +"Stop a minute, Blanche. About Miss Silvester? Have you heard +from her to-day?" + +"No. I am more unhappy about her than words can say." + +"Suppose somebody went to Craig Fernie and tried to find out the +cause of Miss Silvester's silence? Would you believe that +somebody sympathized with you then?" + +Blanche's face flushed brightly with pleasure and surprise. She +raised Sir Patrick's hand gratefully to her lips. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You don't mean that _you_ would do that?" + +"I am certainly the last person who ought to do it--seeing that +you went to the inn in flat rebellion against my orders, and that +I only forgave you, on your own promise of amendment, the other +day. It is a miserably weak proceeding on the part of 'the head +of the family' to be turning his back on his own principles, +because his niece happens to be anxious and unhappy. Still (if +you could lend me your little carriage), I _might_ take a surly +drive toward Craig Fernie, all by myself, and I _might_ stumble +against Miss Silvester--in case you have any thing to say." + +"Any thing to say?" repeated Blanche. She put her arm round her +uncle's neck, and whispered in his ear one of the most +interminable messages that ever was sent from one human being to +another. Sir Patrick listened, with a growing interest in the +inquiry on which he was secretly bent. "The woman must have some +noble qualities," he thought, "who can inspire such devotion as +this." + +While Blanche was whispering to her uncle, a second private +conference--of the purely domestic sort--was taking place between +Lady Lundie and the butler, in the hall outside the library door. + +"I am sorry to say, my lady, Hester Dethridge has broken out +again." + +"What do you mean?" + +"She was all right, my lady, when she went into the +kitchen-garden, some time since. She's taken strange again, now +she has come back. Wants the rest of the day to herself, your +ladyship. Says she's overworked, with all the company in the +house--and, I must say, does look like a person troubled and worn +out in body and mind." + +"Don't talk nonsense, Roberts! The woman is obstinate and idle +and insolent. She is now in the house, as you know, under a +month's notice to leave. If she doesn't choose to do her duty for +that month I shall refuse to give her a character. Who is to cook +the dinner to-day if I give Hester Dethridge leave to go out?" + +"Any way, my lady, I am afraid the kitchen-maid will have to do +her best to-day. Hester is very obstinate, when the fit takes +her--as your ladyship says." + +"If Hester Dethridge leaves the kitchen-maid to cook the dinner, +Roberts, Hester Dethridge leaves my service to-day. I want no +more words about it. If she persists in setting my orders at +defiance, let her bring her account-book into the library, while +we are at lunch, and lay it out my desk. I shall be back in the +library after luncheon--and if I see the account-book I shall +know what it means. In that case, you will receive my directions +to settle with her and send her away. Ring the luncheon-bell." + +The luncheon-bell rang. The guests all took the direction of the +dining -room; Sir Patrick following, from the far end of the +library, with Blanche on his arm. Arrived at the dining-room +door, Blanche stopped, and asked her uncle to excuse her if she +left him to go in by himself. + +"I will be back directly," she said. "I have forgotten something +up stairs." + +Sir Patrick went in. The dining-room door closed; and Blanche +returned alone to the library. Now on one pretense, and now on +another, she had, for three days past, faithfully fulfilled the +engagement she had made at Craig Fernie to wait ten minutes after +luncheon-time in the library, on the chance of seeing Anne. On +this, the fourth occasion, the faithful girl sat down alone in +the great room, and waited with her eyes fixed on the lawn +outside. + +Five minutes passed, and nothing living appeared but the birds +hopping about the grass. + +In less than a minute more Blanche's quick ear caught the faint +sound of a woman's dress brushing over the lawn. She ran to the +nearest window, looked out, and clapped her hands with a cry of +delight. There was the well-known figure, rapidly approaching +her! Anne was true to their friendship--Anne had kept her +engagement at last! + +Blanche hurried out, and drew her into the library in triumph. +"This makes amends, love for every thing! You answer my letter in +the best of all ways--you bring me your own dear self." + +She placed Anne in a chair, and, lifting her veil, saw her +plainly in the brilliant mid-day light. + +The change in the whole woman was nothing less than dreadful to +the loving eyes that rested on her. She looked years older than +her real age. There was a dull calm in her face, a stagnant, +stupefied submission to any thing, pitiable to see. Three days +and nights of solitude and grief, three days and nights of +unresting and unpartaken suspense, had crushed that sensitive +nature, had frozen that warm heart. The animating spirit was +gone--the mere shell of the woman lived and moved, a mockery of +her former self. + +"Oh, Anne! Anne! What _can_ have happened to you? Are you +frightened? There's not the least fear of any body disturbing us. +They are all at luncheon, and the servants are at dinner. We have +the room entirely to ourselves. My darling! you look so faint and +strange! Let me get you something." + +Anne drew Blanche's head down and kissed her. It was done in a +dull, slow way--without a word, without a tear, without a sigh. + +"You're tired--I'm sure you're tired. Have you walked here? You +sha'n't go back on foot; I'll take care of that!" + +Anne roused herself at those words. She spoke for the first time. +The tone was lower than was natural to her; sadder than was +natural to her--but the charm of her voice, the native gentleness +and beauty of it, seemed to have survived the wreck of all +besides. + +"I don't go back, Blanche. I have left the inn." + +"Left the inn? With your husband?" + +She answered the first question--not the second. + +"I can't go back," she said. "The inn is no place for me. A curse +seems to follow me, Blanche, wherever I go. I am the cause of +quarreling and wretchedness, without meaning it, God knows. The +old man who is head-waiter at the inn has been kind to me, my +dear, in his way, and he and the landlady had hard words together +about it. A quarrel, a shocking, violent quarrel. He has lost his +place in consequence. The woman, his mistress, lays all the blame +of it to my door. She is a hard woman; and she has been harder +than ever since Bishopriggs went away. I have missed a letter at +the inn--I must have thrown it aside, I suppose, and forgotten +it. I only know that I remembered about it, and couldn't find it +last night. I told the landlady, and she fastened a quarrel on me +almost before the words were out of my mouth. Asked me if I +charged her with stealing my letter. Said things to me--I can't +repeat them. I am not very well, and not able to deal with people +of that sort. I thought it best to leave Craig Fernie this +morning. I hope and pray I shall never see Craig Fernie again." + +She told her little story with a total absence of emotion of any +sort, and laid her head back wearily on the chair when it was +done. + +Blanche's eyes filled with tears at the sight of her. + +"I won't tease you with questions, Anne," she said, gently. "Come +up stairs and rest in my room. You're not fit to travel, love. +I'll take care that nobody comes near us." + +The stable-clock at Windygates struck the quarter to two. Anne +raised herself in the chair with a start. + +"What time was that?" she asked. + +Blanche told her. + +"I can't stay," she said. "I have come here to find something out +if I can. You won't ask me questions? Don't, Blanche, don't! for +the sake of old times." + +Blanche turned aside, heart-sick. "I will do nothing, dear, to +annoy you," she said, and took Anne's hand, and hid the tears +that were beginning to fall over her cheeks. + +"I want to know something, Blanche. Will you tell me?" + +"Yes. What is it?" + +"Who are the gentlemen staying in the house?" + +Blanche looked round at her again, in sudden astonishment and +alarm. A vague fear seized her that Anne's mind had given way +under the heavy weight of trouble laid on it. Anne persisted in +pressing her strange request. + +"Run over their names, Blanche. I have a reason for wishing to +know who the gentlemen are who are staying in the house." + +Blanche repeated the names of Lady Lundie's guests, leaving to +the last the guests who had arrived last. + +"Two more came back this morning," she went on. "Arnold +Brinkworth and that hateful friend of his, Mr. Delamayn." + +Anne's head sank back once more on the chair. She had found her +way without exciting suspicion of the truth, to the one discovery +which she had come to Windygates to make. He was in Scotland +again, and he had only arrived from London that morning. There +was barely time for him to have communicated with Craig Fernie +before she left the inn--he, too, who hated letter-writing! The +circumstances were all in his favor: there was no reason, there +was really and truly no reason, so far, to believe that he had +deserted her. The heart of the unhappy woman bounded in her +bosom, under the first ray of hope that had warmed it for four +days past. Under that sudden revulsion of feeling, her weakened +frame shook from head to foot. Her face flushed deep for a +moment--then turned deadly pale again. Blanche, anxiously +watching her, saw the serious necessity for giving some +restorative to her instantly. + +"I am going to get you some wine--you will faint, Anne, if you +don't take something. I shall be back in a moment; and I can +manage it without any body being the wiser." + +She pushed Anne's chair close to the nearest open window--a +window at the upper end of the library--and ran out. + +Blanche had barely left the room, by the door that led into the, +hall, when Geoffrey entered it by one of the lower windows +opening from the lawn. + +With his mind absorbed in the letter that he was about to write, +he slowly advanced up the room toward the nearest table. Anne, +hearing the sound of footsteps, started, and looked round. Her +failing strength rallied in an instant, under the sudden relief +of seeing him again. She rose and advanced eagerly, with a faint +tinge of color in her cheeks. He looked up. The two stood face to +face together--alone. + +"Geoffrey!" + +He looked at her without answering--without advancing a step, on +his side. There was an evil light in his eyes; his silence was +the brute silence that threatens dumbly. He had made up his mind +never to see her again, and she had entrapped him into an +interview. He had made up his mind to write, and there she stood +forcing him to speak. The sum of her offenses against him was now +complete. If there had ever been the faintest hope of her raising +even a passing pity in his heart, that hope would have been +annihilated now. + +She failed to understand the full meaning of his silence. She +made her excuses, poor soul, for venturing back to +Windygates--her excuses to the man whose purpose at that moment +was to throw her helpless on the world. + +"Pray forgive me for coming here," she said. "I have done nothing +to compromise you, Geoffrey. Nobody but Blanche knows I am at +Windygates. And I have contrived to make my inquiri es about you +without allowing her to suspect our secret." She stopped, and +began to tremble. She saw something more in his face than she had +read in it at first. "I got your letter," she went on, rallying +her sinking courage. "I don't complain of its being so short: you +don't like letter-writing, I know. But you promised I should hear +from you again. And I have never heard. And oh, Geoffrey, it was +so lonely at the inn!" + +She stopped again, and supported herself by resting her hand on +the table. The faintness was stealing back on her. She tried to +go on again. It was useless--she could only look at him now. + +"What do you want?" he asked, in the tone of a man who was +putting an unimportant question to a total stranger. + +A last gleam of her old energy flickered up in her face, like a +dying flame. + +"I am broken by what I have gone through," she said. "Don't +insult me by making me remind you of your promise." + +"What promise?"' + +"For shame, Geoffrey! for shame! Your promise to marry me." + +"You claim my promise after what you have done at the inn?" + +She steadied herself against the table with one hand, and put the +other hand to her head. Her brain was giddy. The effort to think +was too much for her. She said to herself, vacantly, "The inn? +What did I do at the inn?" + +"I have had a lawyer's advice, mind! I know what I am talking +about." + +She appeared not to have heard him. She repeated the words, "What +did I do at the inn?" and gave it up in despair. Holding by the +table, she came close to him and laid her hand on his arm. + +"Do you refuse to marry me?" she asked. + +He saw the vile opportunity, and said the vile words. + +"You're married already to Arnold Brinkworth." + +Without a cry to warn him, without an effort to save herself, she +dropped senseless at his feet; as her mother had dropped at his +father's feet in the by-gone time. + +He disentangled himself from the folds of her dress. "Done!" he +said, looking down at her as she lay on the floor. + +As the word fell from his lips he was startled by a sound in the +inner part of the house. One of the library doors had not been +completely closed. Light footsteps were audible, advancing +rapidly across the hall. + +He turned and fled, leaving the library, as he had entered it, by +the open window at the lower end of the room. + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND. + +GONE. + +BLANCHE came in, with a glass of wine in her hand, and saw the +swooning woman on the floor. + +She was alarmed, but not surprised, as she knelt by Anne, and +raised her head. Her own previous observation of her friend +necessarily prevented her from being at any loss to account for +the fainting fit. The inevitable delay in getting the wine +was--naturally to her mind--alone to blame for the result which +now met her view. + +If she had been less ready in thus tracing the effect to the +cause, she might have gone to the window to see if any thing had +happened, out-of-doors, to frighten Anne--might have seen +Geoffrey before he had time to turn the corner of the house--and, +making that one discovery, might have altered the whole course of +events, not in her coming life only, but in the coming lives of +others. So do we shape our own destinies, blindfold. So do we +hold our poor little tenure of happiness at the capricious mercy +of Chance. It is surely a blessed delusion which persuades us +that we are the highest product of the great scheme of creation, +and sets us doubting whether other planets are inhabited, because +other planets are not surrounded by an atmosphere which _we_ can +breathe! + +After trying such simple remedies as were within her reach, and +trying them without success, Blanche became seriously alarmed. +Anne lay, to all outward appearance, dead in her arms. She was on +the point of calling for help--come what might of the discovery +which would ensue--when the door from the hall opened once more, +and Hester Dethridge entered the room. + +The cook had accepted the alternative which her mistress's +message had placed before her, if she insisted on having her own +time at her own sole disposal for the rest of that day. Exactly +as Lady Lundie had desired, she intimated her resolution to carry +her point by placing her account-book on the desk in the library. +It was only when this had been done that Blanche received any +answer to her entreaties for help. Slowly and deliberately Hester +Dethridge walked up to the spot where the young girl knelt with +Anne's head on her bosom, and looked at the two without a trace +of human emotion in her stern and stony face. + +"Don't you see what's happened?" cried Blanche. "Are you alive or +dead? Oh, Hester, I can't bring her to! Look at her! look at +her!" + +Hester Dethridge looked at her, and shook her head. Looked again, +thought for a while and wrote on her slate. Held out the slate +over Anne's body, and showed what she had written: + +"Who has done it?" + +"You stupid creature!" said Blanche. "Nobody has done it." + +The eyes of Hester Dethridge steadily read the worn white face, +telling its own tale of sorrow mutely on Blanche's breast. The +mind of Hester Dethridge steadily looked back at her own +knowledge of her own miserable married life. She again returned +to writing on her slate--again showed the written words to +Blanche. + +"Brought to it by a man. Let her be--and God will take her." + +"You horrid unfeeling woman! how dare you write such an +abominable thing!" With this natural outburst of indignation, +Blanche looked back at Anne; and, daunted by the death-like +persistency of the swoon, appealed again to the mercy of the +immovable woman who was looking down at her. "Oh, Hester! for +Heaven's sake help me!" + +The cook dropped her slate at her side. and bent her head gravely +in sign that she submitted. She motioned to Blanche to loosen +Anne's dress, and then--kneeling on one knee--took Anne to +support her while it was being done. + +The instant Hester Dethridge touched her, the swooning woman gave +signs of life. + +A faint shudder ran through her from head to foot--her eyelids +trembled--half opened for a moment--and closed again. As they +closed, a low sigh fluttered feebly from her lips. + +Hester Dethridge put her back in Blanche's arms--considered a +little with herself--returned to writing on her slate--and held +out the written words once more: + +"Shivered when I touched her. That means I have been walking over +her grave." + +Blanche turned from the sight of the slate, and from the sight of +the woman, in horror. "You frighten me!" she said. "You will +frighten _ her_ if she sees you. I don't mean to offend you; +but--leave us, please leave us." + +Hester Dethridge accepted her dismissal, as she accepted every +thing else. She bowed her head in sign that she +understood--looked for the last time at Anne--dropped a stiff +courtesy to her young mistress--and left the room. + +An hour later the butler had paid her, and she had left the +house. + +Blanche breathed more freely when she found herself alone. She +could feel the relief now of seeing Anne revive. + +"Can you hear me, darling?" she whispered. "Can you let me leave +you for a moment?" + +Anne's eyes slowly opened and looked round her--in that torment +and terror of reviving life which marks the awful protest of +humanity against its recall to existence when mortal mercy has +dared to wake it in the arms of Death. + +Blanche rested Anne's head against the nearest chair, and ran to +the table upon which she had placed the wine on entering the +room. + +After swallowing the first few drops Anne begun to feel the +effect of the stimulant. Blanche persisted in making her empty +the glass, and refrained from asking or answering questions until +her recovery under the influence of the wine was complete. + +"You have overexerted yourself this morning," she said, as soon +as it seemed safe to speak. "Nobody has seen you, +darling--nothing has happened. Do you feel like yourself again?" + +Anne made an attempt to rise and leave the library; Blanche +placed her gently in the chair, and went on: + +"There is not the least need to stir. We have another quarter of +an hour to ourselves before any body is at all likely to disturb +us. I have something to say, Anne--a little proposal to make. +Will you listen to me?" + +Anne took Blanche's hand, and p ressed it gratefully to her lips. +She made no other reply. Blanche proceeded: + +"I won't ask any questions, my dear--I won't attempt to keep you +here against your will--I won't even remind you of my letter +yesterday. But I can't let you go, Anne, without having my mind +made easy about you in some way. You will relieve all my anxiety, +if you will do one thing--one easy thing for my sake." + +"What is it, Blanche?" + +She put that question with her mind far away from the subject +before her. Blanche was too eager in pursuit of her object to +notice the absent tone, the purely mechanical manner, in which +Anne had spoken to her. + +"I want you to consult my uncle," she answered. "Sir Patrick is +interested in you; Sir Patrick proposed to me this very day to go +and see you at the inn. He is the wisest, the kindest, the +dearest old man living--and you can trust him as you could trust +nobody else. Will you take my uncle into your confidence, and be +guided by his advice?" + +With her mind still far away from the subject, Anne looked out +absently at the lawn, and made no answer. + +"Come!" said Blanche. "One word isn't much to say. Is it Yes or +No?" + +Still looking out on the lawn--still thinking of something +else--Anne yielded, and said "Yes." + +Blanche was enchanted. "How well I must have managed it!" she +thought. "This is what my uncle means, when my uncle talks of +'putting it strongly.' " + +She bent down over Anne, and gayly patted her on the shoulder. + +"That's the wisest 'Yes,' darling, you ever said in your life. +Wait here--and I'll go in to luncheon, or they will be sending to +know what has become of me. Sir Patrick has kept my place for me, +next to himself. I shall contrive to tell him what I want; and +_he_ will contrive (oh, the blessing of having to do with a +clever man; these are so few of them!)--he will contrive to leave +the table before the rest, without exciting any body's +suspicions. Go away with him at once to the summer-house (we have +been at the summer-house all the morning; nobody will go back to +it now), and I will follow you as soon as I have satisfied Lady +Lundie by eating some lunch. Nobody will be any the wiser but our +three selves. In five minutes or less you may expect Sir Patrick. +Let me go! We haven't a moment to lose!" + +Anne held her back. Anne's attention was concentrated on her now. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"Are you going on happily with Arnold, Blanche?" + +"Arnold is nicer than ever, my dear." + +"Is the day fixed for your marriage?" + +"The day will be ages hence. Not till we are back in town, at the +end of the autumn. Let me go, Anne!" + +"Give me a kiss, Blanche." + +Blanche kissed her, and tried to release her hand. Anne held it +as if she was drowning, as if her life depended on not letting it +go. + +"Will you always love me, Blanche, as you love me now?" + +"How can you ask me!" + +"_I_ said Yes just now. _You_ say Yes too." + +Blanche said it. Anne's eyes fastened on her face, with one long, +yearning look, and then Anne's hand suddenly dropped hers. + +She ran out of the room, more agitated, more uneasy, than she +liked to confess to herself. Never had she felt so certain of the +urgent necessity of appealing to Sir Patrick's advice as she felt +at that moment. + + + +The guests were still safe at the luncheon-table when Blanche +entered the dining-room. + +Lady Lundie expressed the necessary surprise, in the properly +graduated tone of reproof, at her step-daughter's want of +punctuality. Blanche made her apologies with the most exemplary +humility. She glided into her chair by her uncle's side, and took +the first thing that was offered to her. Sir Patrick looked at +his niece, and found himself in the company of a model young +English Miss--and marveled inwardly what it might mean. + +The talk, interrupted for the moment (topics, Politics and +Sport--and then, when a change was wanted, Sport and Politics), +was resumed again all round the table. Under cover of the +conversation, and in the intervals of receiving the attentions of +the gentlemen, Blanche whispered to Sir Patrick, "Don't start, +uncle. Anne is in the library." (Polite Mr. Smith offered some +ham. Gratefully declined.) "Pray, pray, pray go to her; she is +waiting to see you--she is in dreadful trouble." (Gallant Mr. +Jones proposed fruit tart and cream. Accepted with thanks.) "Take +her to the summer-house: I'll follow you when I get the chance. +And manage it at once, uncle, if you love me, or you will be too +late." + +Before Sir Patrick could whisper back a word in reply, Lady +Lundie, cutting a cake of the richest Scottish composition, at +the other end of the table, publicly proclaimed it to be her "own +cake," and, as such, offered her brother-in-law a slice. The +slice exhibited an eruption of plums and sweetmeats, overlaid by +a perspiration of butter. It has been said that Sir Patrick had +reached the age of seventy--it is, therefore, needless to add +that he politely declined to commit an unprovoked outrage on his +own stomach. + +"MY cake!" persisted Lady Lundie, elevating the horrible +composition on a fork. "Won't that tempt you?" + +Sir Patrick saw his way to slipping out of the room under cover +of a compliment to his sister-in-law. He summoned his courtly +smile, and laid his hand on his heart. + +"A fallible mortal," he said, "is met by a temptation which he +can not possibly resist. If he is a wise mortal, also, what does +he do?" + +"He eats some of My cake," said the prosaic Lady Lundie. + +"No!" said Sir Patrick, with a look of unutterable devotion +directed at his sister-in-law. + +"He flies temptation, dear lady--as I do now." He bowed, and +escaped, unsuspected, from the room. + +Lady Lundie cast down her eyes, with an expression of virtuous +indulgence for human frailty, and divided Sir Patrick's +compliment modestly between herself and her cake. + + + +Well aware that his own departure from the table would be +followed in a few minutes by the rising of the lady of the house, +Sir Patrick hurried to the library as fast as his lame foot would +let him. Now that he was alone, his manner became anxious, and +his face looked grave. He entered the room. + +Not a sign of Anne Silvester was to be seen any where. The +library was a perfect solitude. + +"Gone!" said Sir Patrick. "This looks bad." + +After a moment's reflection he went back into the hall to get his +hat. It was possible that she might have been afraid of discovery +if she staid in the library, and that she might have gone on to +the summer-house by herself. + +If she was not to be found in the summer-house, the quieting of +Blanche's mind and the clearing up of her uncle's suspicions +alike depended on discovering the place in which Miss Silvester +had taken refuge. In this case time would be of importance, and +the capacity of making the most of it would be a precious +capacity at starting. Arriving rapidly at these conclusions, Sir +Patrick rang the bell in the hall which communicated with the +servants' offices, and summoned his own valet--a person of tried +discretion and fidelity, nearly as old as himself. + +"Get your hat, Duncan," he said, when the valet appeared, "and +come out with me." + +Master and servant set forth together silently on their way +through the grounds. Arrived within sight of the summer-house, +Sir Patrick ordered Duncan to wait, and went on by himself. + +There was not the least need for the precaution that he had +taken. The summer-house was as empty as the library. He stepped +out again and looked about him. Not a living creature was +visible. Sir Patrick summoned his servant to join him. + +"Go back to the stables, Duncan," he said, "and say that Miss +Lundie lends me her pony-carriage to-day. Let it be got ready at +once and kept in the stable-yard. I want to attract as little +notice as possible. You are to go with me, and nobody else. +Provide yourself with a railway time-table. Have you got any +money?" + +"Yes, Sir Patrick." + +"Did you happen to see the governess (Miss Silvester) on the day +when we came here--the day of the lawn-party?" + +"I did, Sir Patrick." + +"Should you know her again?" + +"I thought her a very distinguished-looking person, Sir Patrick. +I should certainly know her again." + +"Have you any reason to think she noticed you?" + +"She never even looked at me, + Sir Patrick." + +"Very good. Put a change of linen into your bag, Duncan--I may +possibly want you to take a journey by railway. Wait for me in +the stable-yard. This is a matter in which every thing is trusted +to my discretion, and to yours." + +"Thank you, Sir Patrick." + +With that acknowledgment of the compliment which had been just +paid to him, Duncan gravely went his way to the stables; and +Duncan's master returned to the summer-house, to wait there until +he was joined by Blanche. + +Sir Patrick showed signs of failing patience during the interval +of expectation through which he was now condemned to pass. He +applied perpetually to the snuff-box in the knob of his cane. He +fidgeted incessantly in and out of the summer-house. Anne's +disappearance had placed a serious obstacle in the way of further +discovery; and there was no attacking that obstacle, until +precious time had been wasted in waiting to see Blanche. + +At last she appeared in view, from the steps of the summer-house; +breathless and eager, hasting to the place of meeting as fast as +her feet would take her to it. + +Sir Patrick considerately advanced, to spare her the shock of +making the inevitable discovery. "Blanche," he said. "Try to +prepare yourself, my dear, for a disappointment. I am alone." + +"You don't mean that you have let her go?" + +"My poor child! I have never seen her at all." + +Blanche pushed by him, and ran into the summer-house. Sir Patrick +followed her. She came out again to meet him, with a look of +blank despair. "Oh, uncle! I did so truly pity her! And see how +little pity she has for _me!_" + +Sir Patrick put his arm round his niece, and softly patted the +fair young head that dropped on his shoulder. + +"Don't let us judge her harshly, my dear: we don't know what +serious necessity may not plead her excuse. It is plain that she +can trust nobody--and that she only consented to see me to get +you out of the room and spare you the pain of parting. Compose +yourself, Blanche. I don't despair of discovering where she has +gone, if you will help me." + +Blanche lifted her head, and dried her tears bravely. + +"My father himself wasn't kinder to me than you are," she said. +"Only tell me, uncle, what I can do!" + +"I want to hear exactly what happened in the library," said Sir +Patrick. "Forget nothing, my dear child, no matter how trifling +it may be. Trifles are precious to us, and minutes are precious +to us, now." + +Blanche followed her instructions to the letter, her uncle +listening with the closest attention. When she had completed her +narrative, Sir Patrick suggested leaving the summer-house. "I +have ordered your chaise," he said; "and I can tell you what I +propose doing on our way to the stable-yard." + +"Let me drive you, uncle!" + +"Forgive me, my dear, for saying No to that. Your step-mother's +suspicions are very easily excited--and you had better not be +seen with me if my inquiries take me to the Craig Fernie inn. I +promise, if you will remain here, to tell you every thing when I +come back. Join the others in any plan they have for the +afternoon--and you will prevent my absence from exciting any +thing more than a passing remark. You will do as I tell you? +That's a good girl! Now you shall hear how I propose to search +for this poor lady, and how your little story has helped me." + +He paused, considering with himself whether he should begin by +telling Blanche of his consultation with Geoffrey. Once more, he +decided that question in the negative. Better to still defer +taking her into his confidence until he had performed the errand +of investigation on which he was now setting forth. + +"What you have told me, Blanche, divides itself, in my mind, into +two heads," began Sir Patrick. "There is what happened in the +library before your own eyes; and there is what Miss Silvester +told you had happened at the inn. As to the event in the library +(in the first place), it is too late now to inquire whether that +fainting-fit was the result, as you say, of mere exhaustion--or +whether it was the result of something that occurred while you +were out of the room." + +"What could have happened while I was out of the room?" + +"I know no more than you do, my dear. It is simply one of the +possibilities in the case, and, as such, I notice it. To get on +to what practically concerns us; if Miss Silvester is in delicate +health it is impossible that she could get, unassisted, to any +great distance from Windygates. She may have taken refuge in one +of the cottages in our immediate neighborhood. Or she may have +met with some passing vehicle from one of the farms on its way to +the station, and may have asked the person driving to give her a +seat in it. Or she may have walked as far as she can, and may +have stopped to rest in some sheltered place, among the lanes to +the south of this house." + +"I'll inquire at the cottages, uncle, while you are gone." + +"My dear child, there must be a dozen cottages, at least, within +a circle of one mile from Windygates! Your inquiries would +probably occupy you for the whole afternoon. I won't ask what +Lady Lundie would think of your being away all that time by +yourself. I will only remind you of two things. You would be +making a public matter of an investigation which it is essential +to pursue as privately as possible; and, even if you happened to +hit on the right cottage your inquiries would be completely +baffled, and you would discover nothing." + +"Why not?" + +"I know the Scottish peasant better than you do, Blanche. In his +intelligence and his sense of self-respect he is a very different +being from the English peasant. He would receive you civilly, +because you are a young lady; but he would let you see, at the +same time, that he considered you had taken advantage of the +difference between your position and his position to commit an +intrusion. And if Miss Silvester had appealed, in confidence, to +his hospitality, and if he had granted it, no power on earth +would induce him to tell any person living that she was under his +roof--without her express permission." + +"But, uncle, if it's of no use making inquiries of any body, how +are we to find her?" + +"I don't say that nobody will answer our inquiries, my dear--I +only say the peasantry won't answer them, if your friend has +trusted herself to their protection. The way to find her is to +look on, beyond what Miss Silvester may be doing at the present +moment, to what Miss Silvester contemplates doing--let us say, +before the day is out. We may assume, I think (after what has +happened), that, as soon as she can leave this neighborhood, she +assuredly will leave it. Do you agree, so far?" + +"Yes! yes! Go on." + +"Very well. She is a woman, and she is (to say the least of it) +not strong. She can only leave this neighborhood either by hiring +a vehicle or by traveling on the railway. I propose going first +to the station. At the rate at which your pony gets over the +ground, there is a fair chance, in spite of the time we have +lost, of my being there as soon as she is--assuming that she +leaves by the first train, up or down, that passes." + +"There is a train in half an hour, uncle. She can never get there +in time for that." + +"She may be less exhausted than we think; or she may get a lift; +or she may not be alone. How do we know but somebody may have +been waiting in the lane--her husband, if there is such a +person--to help her? No! I shall assume she is now on her way to +the station; and I shall get there as fast as possible--" + +"And stop her, if you find her there?" + +"What I do, Blanche, must be left to my discretion. If I find her +there, I must act for the best. If I don't find her there, I +shall leave Duncan (who goes with me) on the watch for the +remaining trains, until the last to-night. He knows Miss +Silvester by sight, and he is sure that _she_ has never noticed +_him._ Whether she goes north or south, early or late, Duncan +will have my orders to follow her. He is thoroughly to be relied +on. If she takes the railway, I answer for it we shall know where +she goes." + +"How clever of you to think of Duncan!" + +"Not in the least, my dear. Duncan is my factotum; and the course +I am taking is the obvious course which would have occurred to +any body. Let us get to the re ally difficult part of it now. +Suppose she hires a carriage?" + +"There are none to be had, except at the station." + +"There are farmers about here - and farmers have light carts, or +chaises, or something of the sort. It is in the last degree +unlikely that they would consent to let her have them. Still, +women break through difficulties which stop men. And this is a +clever woman, Blanche--a woman, you may depend on it, who is bent +on preventing you from tracing her. I confess I wish we had +somebody we could trust lounging about where those two roads +branch off from the road that leads to the railway. I must go in +another direction; _I_ can't do it." + +"Arnold can do it!" + +Sir Patrick looked a little doubtful. "Arnold is an excellent +fellow," he said. "But can we trust to his discretion?" + +"He is, next to you, the most perfectly discreet person I know," +rejoined Blanche, in a very positive manner; "and, what is more, +I have told him every thing about Anne, except what has happened +to-day. I am afraid I shall tell him _that,_ when I feel lonely +and miserable, after you have gone. There is something in +Arnold--I don't know what it is--that comforts me. Besides, do +you think he would betray a secret that I gave him to keep? You +don't know how devoted he is to me!" + +"My dear Blanche, I am not the cherished object of his devotion; +of course I don't know! You are the only authority on that point. +I stand corrected. Let us have Arnold, by all means. Caution him +to be careful; and send him out by himself, where the roads meet. +We have now only one other place left in which there is a chance +of finding a trace of her. I undertake to make the necessary +investigation at the Craig Fernie inn." + +"The Craig Fernie inn? Uncle! you have forgotten what I told +you." + +"Wait a little, my dear. Miss Silvester herself has left the inn, +I grant you. But (if we should unhappily fail in finding her by +any other means) Miss Silvester has left a trace to guide us at +Craig Fernie. That trace must be picked up at once, in case of +accidents. You don't seem to follow me? I am getting over the +ground as fast as the pony gets over it. I have arrived at the +second of those two heads into which your story divides itself in +my mind. What did Miss Silvester tell you had happened at the +inn?" + +"She lost a letter at the inn." + +"Exactly. She lost a letter at the inn; that is one event. And +Bishopriggs, the waiter, has quarreled with Mrs. Inchbare, and +has left his situation; that is another event. As to the letter +first. It is either really lost, or it has been stolen. In either +case, if we can lay our hands on it, there is at least a chance +of its helping us to discover something. As to Bishopriggs, +next--" + +"You're not going to talk about the waiter, surely?" + +"I am! Bishopriggs possesses two important merits. He is a link +in my chain of reasoning; and he is an old friend of mine." + +"A friend of yours?" + +"We live in days, my dear, when one workman talks of another +workman as 'that gentleman.'--I march with the age, and feel +bound to mention my clerk as my friend. A few years since +Bishopriggs was employed in the clerks' room at my chambers. He +is one of the most intelligent and most unscrupulous old +vagabonds in Scotland; perfectly honest as to all average matters +involving pounds, shillings, and pence; perfectly unprincipled in +the pursuit of his own interests, where the violation of a trust +lies on the boundary-line which marks the limit of the law. I +made two unpleasant discoveries when I had him in my employment. +I found that he had contrived to supply himself with a duplicate +of my seal; and I had the strongest reason to suspect him of +tampering with some papers belonging to two of my clients. He had +done no actual mischief, so far; and I had no time to waste in +making out the necessary case against him. He was dismissed from +my service, as a man who was not to be trusted to respect any +letters or papers that happened to pass through his hands." + +"I see, uncle! I see!" + +"Plain enough now--isn't it? If that missing letter of Miss +Silvester's is a letter of no importance, I am inclined to +believe that it is merely lost, and may be found again. If, on +the other hand, there is any thing in it that could promise the +most remote advantage to any person in possession of it, then, in +the execrable slang of the day, I will lay any odds, Blanche, +that Bishopriggs has got the letter!" + +"And he has left the inn! How unfortunate!" + +"Unfortunate as causing delay--nothing worse than that. Unless I +am very much mistaken, Bishopriggs will come back to the inn. The +old rascal (there is no denying it) is a most amusing person. He +left a terrible blank when he left my clerks' room. Old customers +at Craig Fernie (especially the English), in missing Bishopriggs, +will, you may rely on it, miss one of the attractions of the inn. +Mrs. Inchbare is not a woman to let her dignity stand in the way +of her business. She and Bishopriggs will come together again, +sooner or later, and make it up. When I have put certain +questions to her, which may possibly lead to very important +results, I shall leave a letter for Bishopriggs in Mrs. +Inchbare's hands. The letter will tell him I have something for +him to do, and will contain an address at which he can write to +me. I shall hear of him, Blanche and, if the letter is in his +possession, I shall get it." + +"Won't he be afraid--if he has stolen the letter--to tell you he +has got it?" + +"Very well put, my child. He might hesitate with other people. +But I have my own way of dealing with him - and I know how to +make him tell Me.--Enough of Bishopriggs till his time comes. +There is one other point, in regard to Miss Silvester. I may have +to describe her. How was she dressed when she came here? +Remember, I am a man--and (if an Englishwoman's dress _can_ be +described in an Englishwoman's language) tell me, in English, +what she had on." + +"She wore a straw hat, with corn-flowers in it, and a white veil. +Corn-flowers at one side uncle, which is less common than +cornflowers in front. And she had on a light gray shawl. And a +_Piqué_--" + +"There you go with your French! Not a word more! A straw hat, +with a white veil, and with corn-flowers at one side of the hat. +And a light gray shawl. That's as much as the ordinary male mind +can take in; and that will do. I have got my instructions, and +saved precious time. So far so good. Here we are at the end of +our conference--in other words, at the gate of the stable-yard. +You understand what you have to do while I am away?" + +"I have to send Arnold to the cross-roads. And I have to behave +(if I can) as if nothing had happened." + +"Good child! Well put again! you have got what I call grasp of +mind, Blanche. An invaluable faculty! You will govern the future +domestic kingdom. Arnold will be nothing but a constitutional +husband. Those are the only husbands who are thoroughly happy. +You shall hear every thing, my love, when I come lack. Got your +bag, Duncan? Good. And the time-table? Good. You take the +reins--I won't drive. I want to think. Driving is incompatible +with intellectual exertion. A man puts his mind into his horse, +and sinks to the level of that useful animal--as a necessary +condition of getting to his destination without being upset. God +bless you, Blanche! To the station, Duncan! to the station!" + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD. + +TRACED. + +THE chaise rattled our through the gates. The dogs barked +furiously. Sir Patrick looked round, and waved his hand as he +turned the corner of the road. Blanche was left alone in the +yard. + +She lingered a little, absently patting the dogs. They had +especial claims on her sympathy at that moment; they, too, +evidently thought it hard to be left behind at the house. After a +while she roused herself. Sir Patrick had left the responsibility +of superintending the crossroads on her shoulders. There was +something to be done yet before the arrangements for tracing Anne +were complete. Blanche left the yard to do it. + +On her way back to the house she met Arnold, dispatched by Lady +Lundie in search of her. + +The plan of occupation for the afternoon had been settled during +Blanche's absence. Some demon had whispe red to Lady Lundie to +cultivate a taste for feudal antiquities, and to insist on +spreading that taste among her guests. She had proposed an +excursion to an old baronial castle among the hills--far to the +westward (fortunately for Sir Patrick's chance of escaping +discovery) of the hills at Craig Fernie. Some of the guests were +to ride, and some to accompany their hostess in the open +carriage. Looking right and left for proselytes, Lady Lundie had +necessarily remarked the disappearance of certain members of her +circle. Mr. Delamayn had vanished, nobody knew where. Sir Patrick +and Blanche had followed his example. Her ladyship had observed, +upon this, with some asperity, that if they were all to treat +each other in that unceremonious manner, the sooner Windygates +was turned into a Penitentiary, on the silent system, the fitter +the house would be for the people who inhabited it. Under these +circumstances, Arnold suggested that Blanche would do well to +make her excuses as soon as possible at head-quarters, and accept +the seat in the carriage which her step-mother wished her to +take. "We are in for the feudal antiquities, Blanche; and we must +help each other through as well as we can. If you will go in the +carriage, I'll go too." + +Blanche shook her head. + +"There are serious reasons for _my_ keeping up appearances," she +said. "I shall go in the carriage. You mustn't go at all." + +Arnold naturally looked a little surprised, and asked to be +favored with an explanation. + +Blanche took his arm and hugged it close. Now that Anne was lost, +Arnold was more precious to her than ever. She literally hungered +to hear at that moment, from his own lips, how fond he was of +her. It mattered nothing that she was already perfectly satisfied +on this point. It was so nice (after he had said it five hundred +times already) to make him say it once more! + +"Suppose I had no explanation to give?" she said. "Would you stay +behind by yourself to please me?" + +"I would do any thing to please you!" + +"Do you really love me as much as that?" + +They were still in the yard; and the only witnesses present were +the dogs. Arnold answered in the language without words--which is +nevertheless the most expressive language in use, between men and +women, all over the world. + +"This is not doing my duty," said Blanche, penitently. "But, oh +Arnold, I am so anxious and so miserable! And it _is_ such a +consolation to know that _you_ won't turn your back on me too!" + +With that preface she told him what had happened in the library. +Even Blanche's estimate of her lover's capacity for sympathizing +with her was more than realized by the effect which her narrative +produced on Arnold. He was not merely surprised and sorry for +her. His face showed plainly that he felt genuine concern and +distress. He had never stood higher in Blanche's opinion than he +stood at that moment. + +"What is to be done?" he asked. "How does Sir Patrick propose to +find her?" + +Blanche repeated Sir Patrick's instructions relating to the +crossroads, and also to the serious necessity of pursuing the +investigation in the strictest privacy. Arnold (relieved from all +fear of being sent back to Craig Fernie) undertook to do every +thing that was asked of him, and promised to keep the secret from +every body. + +They went back to the house, and met with an icy welcome from +Lady Lundie. Her ladyship repeated her remark on the subject of +turning Windygates into a Penitentiary for Blanche's benefit. She +received Arnold's petition to be excused from going to see the +castle with the barest civility. "Oh, take your walk by all +means! You may meet your friend, Mr. Delamayn--who appears to +have such a passion for walking that he can't even wait till +luncheon is over. As for Sir Patrick--Oh! Sir Patrick has +borrowed the pony-carriage? and gone out driving by himself?--I'm +sure I never meant to offend my brother-in-law when I offered him +a slice of my poor little cake. Don't let me offend any body +else. Dispose of your afternoon, Blanche, without the slightest +reference to me. Nobody seems inclined to visit the ruins--the +most interesting relic of feudal times in Perthshire, Mr. +Brinkworth. It doesn't matter--oh, dear me, it doesn't matter! I +can't force my guests to feel an intelligent curiosity on the +subject of Scottish Antiquities. No! no! my dear Blanche!--it +won't be the first time, or the last, that I have driven out +alone. I don't at all object to being alone. 'My mind to me a +kingdom is,' as the poet says." So Lady Lundie's outraged +self-importance asserted its violated claims on human respect, +until her distinguished medical guest came to the rescue and +smoothed his hostess's ruffled plumes. The surgeon (he privately +detested ruins) begged to go. Blanche begged to go. Smith and +Jones (profoundly interested in feudal antiquities) said they +would sit behind, in the "rumble"--rather than miss this +unexpected treat. One, Two, and Three caught the infection, and +volunteered to be the escort on horseback. Lady Lundie's +celebrated "smile" (warranted to remain unaltered on her face for +hours together) made its appearance once more. She issued her +orders with the most charming amiability. "We'll take the +guidebook," said her ladyship, with the eye to mean economy, +which is only to be met with in very rich people, "and save a +shilling to the man who shows the ruins." With that she went up +stairs to array herself for the drive, and looked in the glass; +and saw a perfectly virtuous, fascinating, and accomplished +woman, facing her irresistibly in a new French bonnet! + +At a private signal from Blanche, Arnold slipped out and repaired +to his post, where the roads crossed the road that led to the +railway. + +There was a space of open heath on one side of him, and the +stonewall and gates of a farmhouse inclosure on the other. Arnold +sat down on the soft heather--and lit a cigar--and tried to see +his way through the double mystery of Anne's appearance and +Anne's flight. + +He had interpreted his friend's absence exactly as his friend had +anticipated: he could only assume that Geoffrey had gone to keep +a private appointment with Anne. Miss Silvester's appearance at +Windygates alone, and Miss Silvester's anxiety to hear the names +of the gentlemen who were staying in the house, seemed, under +these circumstances, to point to the plain conclusion that the +two had, in some way, unfortunately missed each other. But what +could be the motive of her flight? Whether she knew of some other +place in which she might meet Geoffrey? or whether she had gone +back to the inn? or whether she had acted under some sudden +impulse of despair?--were questions which Arnold was necessarily +quite incompetent to solve. There was no choice but to wait until +an opportunity offered of reporting what had happened to Geoffrey +himself. + +After the lapse of half an hour, the sound of some approaching +vehicle--the first sound of the sort that he had heard--attracted +Arnold's attention. He started up, and saw the pony-chaise +approaching him along the road from the station. Sir Patrick, +this time, was compelled to drive himself--Duncan was not with +him. On discovering Arnold, he stopped the pony. + +"So! so!" said the old gentleman. "You have heard all about it, I +see? You understand that this is to be a secret from every body, +till further notice? Very good, Has any thing happened since you +have been here?" + +"Nothing. Have you made any discoveries, Sir Patrick?" + +"None. I got to the station before the train. No signs of Miss +Silvester any where. I have left Duncan on the watch--with orders +not to stir till the last train has passed to-night." + +"I don't think she will turn up at the station," said Arnold. "I +fancy she has gone back to Craig Fernie." + +"Quite possible. I am now on my way to Craig Fernie, to make +inquiries about her. I don't know how long I may be detained, or +what it may lead to. If you see Blanche before I do tell her I +have instructed the station-master to let me know (if Miss +Silvester does take the railway) what place she books for. Thanks +to that arrangement, we sha'n't have to wait for news till Duncan +can telegraph that he has seen her to her journey's end. In the +mean time, you un derstand what you are wanted to do here?" + +"Blanche has explained every thing to me." + +"Stick to your post, and make good use of your eyes. You were +accustomed to that, you know, when you were at sea. It's no great +hardship to pass a few hours in this delicious summer air. I see +you have contracted the vile modern habit of smoking--that will +be occupation enough to amuse you, no doubt! Keep the roads in +view; and, if she does come your way, don't attempt to stop +her--you can't do that. Speak to her (quite innocently, mind!), +by way of getting time enough to notice the face of the man who +is driving her, and the name (if there is one) on his cart. Do +that, and you will do enough. Pah! how that cigar poisons the +air! What will have become of your stomach when you get to my +age?" + +"I sha'n't complain, Sir Patrick, if I can eat as good a dinner +as you do." + +"That reminds me! I met somebody I knew at the station. Hester +Dethridge has left her place, and gone to London by the train. We +may feed at Windygates--we have done with dining now. It has been +a final quarrel this time between the mistress and the cook. I +have given Hester my address in London, and told her to let me +know before she decides on another place. A woman who _can't_ +talk, and a woman who _can_ cook, is simply a woman who has +arrived at absolute perfection. Such a treasure shall not go out +of the family, if I can help it. Did you notice the Béchamel +sauce at lunch? Pooh! a young man who smokes cigars doesn't know +the difference between Béchamel sauce and melted butter. +Good afternoon! good afternoon!" + +He slackened the reins, and away he went to Craig Fernie. +Counting by years, the pony was twenty, and the pony's driver was +seventy. Counting by vivacity and spirit, two of the most +youthful characters in Scotland had got together that afternoon +in the same chaise. + +An hour more wore itself slowly out; and nothing had passed +Arnold on the cross-roads but a few stray foot-passengers, a +heavy wagon, and a gig with an old woman in it. He rose again +from the heather, weary of inaction, and resolved to walk +backward and forward, within view of his post, for a change. At +the second turn, when his face happened to be set toward the open +heath, he noticed another foot-passenger--apparently a man--far +away in the empty distance. Was the person coming toward him? + +He advanced a little. The stranger was doubtless advancing too, +so rapidly did his figure now reveal itself, beyond all doubt, as +the figure of a man. A few minutes more and Arnold fancied he +recognized it. Yet a little longer, and he was quite sure. There +was no mistaking the lithe strength and grace of _that_ man, and +the smooth easy swiftness with which he covered his ground. It +was the hero of the coming foot-race. It was Geoffrey on his way +back to Windygates House. + +Arnold hurried forward to meet him. Geoffrey stood still, poising +himself on his stick, and let the other come up. + +"Have you heard what has happened at the house?" asked Arnold. + +He instinctively checked the next question as it rose to his +lips. There was a settled defiance in the expression of +Geoffrey's face, which Arnold was quite at a loss to understand. +He looked like a man who had made up his mind to confront any +thing that could happen, and to contradict any body who spoke to +him. + +"Something seems to have annoyed you?" said Arnold. + +"What's up at the house?" returned Geoffrey, with his loudest +voice and his hardest look. + +"Miss Silvester has been at the house." + +"Who saw her?" + +"Nobody but Blanche." + +"Well?" + +"Well, she was miserably weak and ill, so ill that she fainted, +poor thing, in the library. Blanche brought her to." + +"And what then?" + +"We were all at lunch at the time. Blanche left the library, to +speak privately to her uncle. When she went back Miss Silvester +was gone, and nothing has been seen of her since." + +"A row at the house?" + +"Nobody knows of it at the house, except Blanche--" + +"And you? And how many besides?" + +"And Sir Patrick. Nobody else." + +"Nobody else? Any thing more?" + +Arnold remembered his promise to keep the investigation then on +foot a secret from every body. Geoffrey's manner made +him--unconsciously to himself--readier than he might otherwise +have been to consider Geoffrey as included in the general +prohibition. + +"Nothing more," he answered. + +Geoffrey dug the point of his stick deep into the soft, sandy +ground. He looked at the stick, then suddenly pulled it out of +the ground and looked at Arnold. "Good-afternoon!" he said, and +went on his way again by himself. + +Arnold followed, and stopped him. For a moment the two men looked +at each other without a word passing on either side. Arnold spoke +first. + +"You're out of humor, Geoffrey. What has upset you in this way? +Have you and Miss Silvester missed each other?" + +Geoffrey was silent. + +"Have you seen her since she left Windygates?" + +No reply. + +"Do you know where Miss Silvester is now?" + +Still no reply. Still the same mutely-insolent defiance of look +and manner. Arnold's dark color began to deepen. + +"Why don't you answer me?" he said. + +"Because I have had enough of it." + +"Enough of what?" + +"Enough of being worried about Miss Silvester. Miss Silvester's +my business--not yours." + +"Gently, Geoffrey! Don't forget that I have been mixed up in that +business--without seeking it myself." + +"There's no fear of my forgetting. You have cast it in my teeth +often enough." + +"Cast it in your teeth?" + +"Yes! Am I never to hear the last of my obligation to you? The +devil take the obligation! I'm sick of the sound of it." + +There was a spirit in Arnold--not easily brought to the surface, +through the overlying simplicity and good-humor of his ordinary +character--which, once roused, was a spirit not readily quelled. +Geoffrey had roused it at last. + +"When you come to your senses," he said, "I'll remember old +times--and receive your apology. Till you _do_ come to your +senses, go your way by yourself. I have no more to say to you." + +Geoffrey set his teeth, and came one step nearer. Arnold's eyes +met his, with a look which steadily and firmly challenged +him--though he was the stronger man of the two--to force the +quarrel a step further, if he dared. The one human virtue which +Geoffrey respected and understood was the virtue of courage. And +there it was before him--the undeniable courage of the weaker +man. The callous scoundrel was touched on the one tender place in +his whole being. He turned, and went on his way in silence. + +Left by himself, Arnold's head dropped on his breast. The friend +who had saved his life--the one friend he possessed, who was +associated with his earliest and happiest remembrances of old +days--had grossly insulted him: and had left him deliberately, +without the slightest expression of regret. Arnold's affectionate +nature--simple, loyal, clinging where it once fastened--was +wounded to the quick. Geoffrey's fast-retreating figure, in the +open view before him, became blurred and indistinct. He put his +hand over his eyes, and hid, with a boyish shame, the hot tears +that told of the heartache, and that honored the man who shed +them. + +He was still struggling with the emotion which had overpowered +him, when something happened at the place where the roads met. + +The four roads pointed as nearly as might be toward the four +points of the compass. Arnold was now on the road to the +eastward, having advanced in that direction to meet Geoffrey, +between two and three hundred yards from the farm-house inclosure +before which he had kept his watch. The road to the westward, +curving away behind the farm, led to the nearest market-town. The +road to the south was the way to the station. And the road to the +north led back to Windygates House. + +While Geoffrey was still fifty yards from the turning which would +take him back to Windygates--while the tears were still standing +thickly in Arnold's eyes--the gate of the farm inclosure opened. +A light four-wheel chaise came out with a man driving, and a +woman sitting by his side. The woman was Anne Silvester, and the +man was the owner of the farm. + +Instead of taking the way which led to the station, the chaise +pursued the westward road to the market-town. + Proceeding in this direction, the backs of the persons in the +vehicle were necessarily turned on Geoffrey, advancing behind +them from the eastward. He just carelessly noticed the shabby +little chaise, and then turned off north on his way to +Windygates. + +By the time Arnold was composed enough to look round him, the +chaise had taken the curve in the road which wound behind the +farmhouse. He returned--faithful to the engagement which he had +undertaken--to his post before the inclosure. The chaise was then +a speck in the distance. In a minute more it was a speck out of +sight. + +So (to use Sir Patrick's phrase) had the woman broken through +difficulties which would have stopped a man. So, in her sore +need, had Anne Silvester won the sympathy which had given her a +place, by the farmer's side, in the vehicle that took him on his +own business to the market-town. And so, by a hair's-breadth, did +she escape the treble risk of discovery which threatened +her--from Geoffrey, on his way back; from Arnold, at his post; +and from the valet, on the watch for her appearance at the +station. + + + +The afternoon wore on. The servants at Windygates, airing +themselves in the grounds--in the absence of their mistress and +her guests--were disturbed, for the moment, by the unexpected +return of one of "the gentlefolks." Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn +reappeared at the house alone; went straight to the smoking-room; +and calling for another supply of the old ale, settled himself in +an arm-chair with the newspaper, and began to smoke. + +He soon tired of reading, and fell into thinking of what had +happened during the latter part of his walk. + +The prospect before him had more than realized the most sanguine +anticipations that he could have formed of it. He had braced +himself--after what had happened in the library--to face the +outbreak of a serious scandal, on his return to the house. And +here--when he came back--was nothing to face! Here were three +people (Sir Patrick, Arnold, and Blanche) who must at least know +that Anne was in some serious trouble keeping the secret as +carefully as if they felt that his interests were at stake! And, +more wonderful still, here was Anne herself--so far from raising +a hue and cry after him--actually taking flight without saying a +word that could compromise him with any living soul! + +What in the name of wonder did it mean? He did his best to find +his way to an explanation of some sort; and he actually contrived +to account for the silence of Blanche and her uncle, and Arnold. +It was pretty clear that they must have all three combined to +keep Lady Lundie in ignorance of her runaway governess's return +to the house. + +But the secret of Anne's silence completely baffled him. + +He was simply incapable of conceiving that the horror of seeing +herself set up as an obstacle to Blanche's marriage might have +been vivid enough to overpower all sense of her own wrongs, and +to hurry her away, resolute, in her ignorance of what else to do, +never to return again, and never to let living eyes rest on her +in the character of Arnold's wife. "It's clean beyond _my_ making +out," was the final conclusion at which Geoffrey arrived. "If +it's her interest to hold her tongue, it's my interest to hold +mine, and there's an end of it for the present!" + +He put up his feet on a chair, and rested his magnificent muscles +after his walk, and filled another pipe, in thorough contentment +with himself. No interference to dread from Anne, no more awkward +questions (on the terms they were on now) to come from Arnold. He +looked back at the quarrel on the heath with a certain +complacency--he did his friend justice; though they _had_ +disagreed. "Who would have thought the fellow had so much pluck +in him!" he said to himself as he struck the match and lit his +second pipe. + +An hour more wore on; and Sir Patrick was the next person who +returned. + +He was thoughtful, but in no sense depressed. Judging by +appearances, his errand to Craig Fernie had certainly not ended +in disappointment. The old gentleman hummed his favorite little +Scotch air--rather absently, perhaps--and took his pinch of snuff +from the knob of his ivory cane much as usual. He went to the +library bell and summoned a servant. + +"Any body been here for me?"--"No, Sir Patrick."--"No +letters?"--"No, Sir Patrick."--"Very well. Come up stairs to my +room, and help me on with my dressing-gown." The man helped him +to his dressing-gown and slippers "Is Miss Lundie at home?"--"No, +Sir Patrick. They're all away with my lady on an +excursion."--"Very good. Get me a cup of coffee; and wake me half +an hour before dinner, in case I take a nap." The servant went +out. Sir Patrick stretched himself on the sofa. "Ay! ay! a little +aching in the back, and a certain stiffness in the legs. I dare +say the pony feels just as I do. Age, I suppose, in both cases? +Well! well! well! let's try and be young at heart. 'The rest' (as +Pope says) 'is leather and prunella.' " He returned resignedly to +his little Scotch air. The servant came in with the coffee. And +then the room was quiet, except for the low humming of insects +and the gentle rustling of the creepers at the window. For five +minutes or so Sir Patrick sipped his coffee, and meditated--by no +means in the character of a man who was depressed by any recent +disappointment. In five minutes more he was asleep. + +A little later, and the party returned from the ruins. + +With the one exception of their lady-leader, the whole expedition +was depressed--Smith and Jones, in particular, being quite +speechless. Lady Lundie alone still met feudal antiquities with a +cheerful front. She had cheated the man who showed the ruins of +his shilling, and she was thoroughly well satisfied with herself. +Her voice was flute-like in its melody, and the celebrated +"smile" had never been in better order. "Deeply interesting!" +said her ladyship, descending from the carriage with ponderous +grace, and addressing herself to Geoffrey, lounging under the +portico of the house. "You have had a loss, Mr. Delamayn. The +next time you go out for a walk, give your hostess a word of +warning, and you won't repent it." Blanche (looking very weary +and anxious) questioned the servant, the moment she got in, about +Arnold and her uncle. Sir Patrick was invisible up stairs. Mr. +Brinkworth had not come back. It wanted only twenty minutes of +dinner-time; and full evening-dress was insisted on at +Windygates. Blanche, nevertheless, still lingered in the hall in +the hope of seeing Arnold before she went up stairs. The hope was +realized. As the clock struck the quarter he came in. And he, +too, was out of spirits like the rest! + +"Have you seen her?" asked Blanche. + +"No," said Arnold, in the most perfect good faith. "The way she +has escaped by is not the way by the cross-roads--I answer for +that." + +They separated to dress. When the party assembled again, in the +library, before dinner, Blanche found her way, the moment he +entered the room, to Sir Patrick's side. + +"News, uncle! I'm dying for news." + +"Good news, my dear--so far." + +"You have found Anne?" + +"Not exactly that." + +"You have heard of her at Craig Fernie?" + +"I have made some important discoveries at Craig Fernie, Blanche. +Hush! here's your step-mother. Wait till after dinner, and you +may hear more than I can tell you now. There may be news from the +station between this and then." + +The dinner was a wearisome ordeal to at least two other persons +present besides Blanche. Arnold, sitting opposite to Geoffrey, +without exchanging a word with him, felt the altered relations +between his former friend and himself very painfully. Sir +Patrick, missing the skilled hand of Hester Dethridge in every +dish that was offered to him, marked the dinner among the wasted +opportunities of his life, and resented his sister-in-law's flow +of spirits as something simply inhuman under present +circumstances. Blanche followed Lady Lundie into the drawing-room +in a state of burning impatience for the rising of the gentlemen +from their wine. Her step-mother--mapping out a new antiquarian +excursion for the next day, and finding Blanche's ears closed to +her occasional remarks on baronial Scotland five hundred years +since--lamented, with satirical + emphasis, the absence of an intelligent companion of her own +sex; and stretched her majestic figure on the sofa to wait until +an audience worthy of her flowed in from the dining-room. Before +very long--so soothing is the influence of an after-dinner view +of feudal antiquities, taken through the medium of an approving +conscience--Lady Lundie's eyes closed; and from Lady Lundie's +nose there poured, at intervals, a sound, deep like her +ladyship's learning; regular, like her ladyship's habits--a sound +associated with nightcaps and bedrooms, evoked alike by Nature, +the leveler, from high and low--the sound (oh, Truth what +enormities find publicity in thy name!)--the sound of a Snore. + +Free to do as she pleased, Blanche left the echoes of the +drawing-room in undisturbed enjoyment of Lady Lundie's audible +repose. + +She went into the library, and turned over the novels. Went out +again, and looked across the hall at the dining-room door. Would +the men never have done talking their politics and drinking their +wine? She went up to her own room, and changed her ear-rings, and +scolded her maid. Descended once more--and made an alarming +discovery in a dark corner of the hall. + +Two men were standing there, hat in hand whispering to the +butler. The butler, leaving them, went into the dining-room--came +out again with Sir Patrick--and said to the two men, "Step this +way, please." The two men came out into the light. Murdoch, the +station-master; and Duncan, the valet! News of Anne! + +"Oh, uncle, let me stay!" pleaded Blanche. + +Sir Patrick hesitated. It was impossible to say--as matters stood +at that moment--what distressing intelligence the two men might +not have brought of the missing woman. Duncan's return, +accompanied by the station-master, looked serious. Blanche +instantly penetrated the secret of her uncle's hesitation. She +turned pale, and caught him by the arm. "Don't send me away," she +whispered. "I can bear any thing but suspense." + +"Out with it!" said Sir Patrick, holding his niece's hand. "Is +she found or not?" + +"She's gone by the up-train," said the station-master. "And we +know where." + +Sir Patrick breathed freely; Blanche's color came back. In +different ways, the relief to both of them was equally great. + +"You had my orders to follow her," said Sir Patrick to Duncan. +"Why have you come back?" + +"Your man is not to blame, Sir," interposed the station-master. +"The lady took the train at Kirkandrew." + +Sir Patrick started and looked at the station-master. "Ay? ay? +The next station--the market-town. Inexcusably stupid of me. I +never thought of that." + +"I took the liberty of telegraphing your description of the lady +to Kirkandrew, Sir Patrick, in case of accidents." + +"I stand corrected, Mr. Murdoch. Your head, in this matter, has +been the sharper head of the two. Well?" + +"There's the answer, Sir." + +Sir Patrick and Blanche read the telegram together. + +"Kirkandrew. Up train. 7.40 P.M. Lady as described. No luggage. +Bag in her hand. Traveling alone. Ticket--second-class. +Place--Edinburgh." + +"Edinburgh!" repeated Blanche. "Oh, uncle! we shall lose her in a +great place like that!" + +"We shall find her, my dear; and you shall see how. Duncan, get +me pen, ink, and paper. Mr. Murdoch, you are going back to the +station, I suppose?" + +"Yes, Sir Patrick." + +"I will give you a telegram, to be sent at once to Edinburgh." + +He wrote a carefully-worded telegraphic message, and addressed it +to The Sheriff of Mid-Lothian. + +"The Sheriff is an old friend of mine," he explained to his +niece. "And he is now in Edinburgh. Long before the train gets to +the terminus he will receive this personal description of Miss +Silvester, with my request to have all her movements carefully +watched till further notice. The police are entirely at his +disposal; and the best men will be selected for the purpose. I +have asked for an answer by telegraph. Keep a special messenger +ready for it at the station, Mr. Murdoch. Thank you; +good-evening. Duncan, get your supper, and make yourself +comfortable. Blanche, my dear, go back to the drawing-room, and +expect us in to tea immediately. You will know where your friend +is before you go to bed to-night." + +With those comforting words he returned to the gentlemen. In ten +minutes more they all appeared in the drawing-room; and Lady +Lundie (firmly persuaded that she had never closed her eyes) was +back again in baronial Scotland five hundred years since. + +Blanche, watching her opportunity, caught her uncle alone. + +"Now for your promise," she said. "You have made some important +discoveries at Craig Fernie. What are they?" + +Sir Patrick's eye turned toward Geoffrey, dozing in an arm-chair +in a corner of the room. He showed a certain disposition to +trifle with the curiosity of his niece. + +"After the discovery we have already made," he said, "can't you +wait, my dear, till we get the telegram from Edinburgh?" + +"That is just what it's impossible for me to do! The telegram +won't come for hours yet. I want something to go on with in the +mean time." + +She seated herself on a sofa in the corner opposite Geoffrey, and +pointed to the vacant place by her side. + +Sir Patrick had promised--Sir Patrick had no choice but to keep +his word. After another look at Geoffrey, he took the vacant +place by his niece. + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH. + +BACKWARD. + +"WELL?" whispered Blanche, taking her uncle confidentially by the +arm. + +"Well," said Sir Patrick, with a spark of his satirical humor +flashing out at his niece, "I am going to do a very rash thing. I +am going to place a serious trust in the hands of a girl of +eighteen." + +"The girl's hands will keep it, uncle--though she _is_ only +eighteen." + +"I must run the risk, my dear; your intimate knowledge of Miss +Silvester may be of the greatest assistance to me in the next +step I take. You shall know all that I can tell you, but I must +warn you first. I can only admit you into my confidence by +startling you with a great surprise. Do you follow me, so far?" + +"Yes! yes!" + +"If you fail to control yourself, you place an obstacle in the +way of my being of some future use to Miss Silvester. Remember +that, and now prepare for the surprise. What did I tell you +before dinner?" + +"You said you had made discoveries at Craig Fernie. What have you +found out?" + +"I have found out that there is a certain person who is in full +possession of the information which Miss Silvester has concealed +from you and from me. The person is within our reach. The person +is in this neighborhood. The person is in this room!" + +He caught up Blanche's hand, resting on his arm, and pressed it +significantly. She looked at him with the cry of surprise +suspended on her lips--waited a little with her eyes fixed on Fir +Patrick's face--struggled resolutely, and composed herself. + +"Point the person out." She said the words with a self-possession +which won her uncle's hearty approval. Blanche had done wonders +for a girl in her teens. + +"Look!" said Sir Patrick; "and tell me what you see." + +"I see Lady Lundie, at the other end of the room, with the map of +Perthshire and the Baronial Antiquities of Scotland on the table. +And I see every body but you and me obliged to listen to her." + +"Every body?" + +Blanche looked carefully round the room, and noticed Geoffrey in +the opposite corner; fast asleep by this time in his arm-chair. + +"Uncle! you don't mean--?" + +"There is the man." + +"Mr. Delamayn--!" + +"Mr. Delamayn knows every thing." + +Blanche held mechanically by her uncle's arm, and looked at the +sleeping man as if her eyes could never see enough of him. + +"You saw me in the library in private consultation with Mr. +Delamayn," resumed Sir Patrick. "I have to acknowledge, my dear, +that you were quite right in thinking this a suspicious +circumstance, And I am now to justify myself for having purposely +kept you in the dark up to the present time." + +With those introductory words, he briefly reverted to the earlier +occurrences of the day, and then added, by way of commentary, a +statement of the conclusions which events had suggested to his +own mind. + +The events, it may be remembered, were three in number. First, +Geoffrey's private conference with Sir Patrick on the subject of +Irregular Marriages in Scotla nd. Secondly, Anne Silvester's +appearance at Windygates. Thirdly, Anne's flight. + +The conclusions which had thereupon suggested themselves to Sir +Patrick's mind were six in number. + +First, that a connection of some sort might possibly exist +between Geoffrey's acknowledged difficulty about his friend, and +Miss Silvester's presumed difficulty about herself. Secondly, +that Geoffrey had really put to Sir Patrick--not his own +case--but the case of a friend. Thirdly, that Geoffrey had some +interest (of no harmless kind) in establishing the fact of his +friend's marriage. Fourthly, that Anne's anxiety (as described by +Blanche) to hear the names of the gentlemen who were staying at +Windygates, pointed, in all probability, to Geoffrey. Fifthly, +that this last inference disturbed the second conclusion, and +reopened the doubt whether Geoffrey had not been stating his own +case, after all, under pretense of stating the case of a friend. +Sixthly, that the one way of obtaining any enlightenment on this +point, and on all the other points involved in mystery, was to go +to Craig Fernie, and consult Mrs. Inchbare's experience during +the period of Anne's residence at the inn. Sir Patrick's apology +for keeping all this a secret from his niece followed. He had +shrunk from agitating her on the subject until he could be sure +of proving his conclusions to be true. The proof had been +obtained; and he was now, therefore, ready to open his mind to +Blanche without reserve. + +"So much, my dear," proceeded Sir Patrick, "for those necessary +explanations which are also the necessary nuisances of human +intercourse. You now know as much as I did when I arrived at +Craig Fernie--and you are, therefore, in a position to appreciate +the value of my discoveries at the inn. Do you understand every +thing, so far?" + +"Perfectly!" + +"Very good. I drove up to the inn; and--behold me closeted with +Mrs. Inchbare in her own private parlor! (My reputation may or +may not suffer, but Mrs. Inchbare's bones are above suspicion!) +It was a long business, Blanche. A more sour-tempered, cunning, +and distrustful witness I never examined in all my experience at +the Bar. She would have upset the temper of any mortal man but a +lawyer. We have such wonderful tempers in our profession; and we +can be so aggravating when we like! In short, my dear, Mrs. +Inchbare was a she-cat, and I was a he-cat--and I clawed the +truth out of her at last. The result was well worth arriving at, +as you shall see. Mr. Delamayn had described to me certain +remarkable circumstances as taking place between a lady and a +gentleman at an inn: the object of the parties being to pass +themselves off at the time as man and wife. Every one of those +circumstances, Blanche, occurred at Craig Fernie, between a lady +and a gentleman, on the day when Miss Silvester disappeared from +this house And--wait!--being pressed for her name, after the +gentleman had left her behind him at the inn, the name the lady +gave was, 'Mrs. Silvester.' What do you think of that?" + +"Think! I'm bewildered--I can't realize it." + +"It's a startling discovery, my dear child--there is no denying +that. Shall I wait a little, and let you recover yourself?" + +"No! no! Go on! The gentleman, uncle? The gentleman who was with +Anne? Who is he? Not Mr. Delamayn?" + +"Not Mr. Delamayn," said Sir Patrick. "If I have proved nothing +else, I have proved that." + +"What need was there to prove it? Mr. Delamayn went to London on +the day of the lawn-party. And Arnold--" + +"And Arnold went with him as far as the second station from this. +Quite true! But how was I to know what Mr. Delamayn might have +done after Arnold had left him? I could only make sure that he +had not gone back privately to the inn, by getting the proof from +Mrs. Inchbare." + +"How did you get it?" + +"I asked her to describe the gentleman who was with Miss +Silvester. Mrs. Inchbare's description (vague as you will +presently find it to be) completely exonerates that man," said +Sir Patrick, pointing to Geoffrey still asleep in his chair. +"_He_ is not the person who passed Miss Silvester off as his wife +at Craig Fernie. He spoke the truth when he described the case to +me as the case of a friend." + +"But who is the friend?" persisted Blanche. "That's what I want +to know." + +"That's what I want to know, too." + +"Tell me exactly, uncle, what Mrs. Inchbare said. I have lived +with Anne all my life. I _must_ have seen the man somewhere." + +"If you can identify him by Mrs. Inchbare's description," +returned Sir Patrick, "you will be a great deal cleverer than I +am. Here is the picture of the man, as painted by the landlady: +Young; middle-sized; dark hair, eyes, and complexion; nice +temper, pleasant way of speaking. Leave out 'young,' and the rest +is the exact contrary of Mr. Delamayn. So far, Mrs. Inchbare +guides us plainly enough. But how are we to apply her description +to the right person? There must be, at the lowest computation, +five hundred thousand men in England who are young, middle-sized, +dark, nice-tempered, and pleasant spoken. One of the footmen here +answers that description in every particular." + +"And Arnold answers it," said Blanche--as a still stronger +instance of the provoking vagueness of the description. + +"And Arnold answers it," repeated Sir Patrick, quite agreeing +with her. + +They had barely said those words when Arnold himself appeared, +approaching Sir Patrick with a pack of cards in his hand. + +There--at the very moment when they had both guessed the truth, +without feeling the slightest suspicion of it in their own +minds--there stood Discovery, presenting itself unconsciously to +eyes incapable of seeing it, in the person of the man who had +passed Anne Silvester off as his wife at the Craig Fernie inn! +The terrible caprice of Chance, the merciless irony of +Circumstance, could go no further than this. The three had their +feet on the brink of the precipice at that moment. And two of +them were smiling at an odd coincidence; and one of them was +shuffling a pack of cards! + +"We have done with the Antiquities at last!" said Arnold; "and we +are going to play at Whist. Sir Patrick, will you choose a card?" + +"Too soon after dinner, my good fellow, for _me_. Play the first +rubber, and then give me another chance. By-the-way," he added +"Miss Silvester has been traced to Kirkandrew. How is it that you +never saw her go by?" + +"She can't have gone my way, Sir Patrick, or I must have seen +her." + +Having justified himself in those terms, he was recalled to the +other end of the room by the whist-party, impatient for the cards +which he had in his hand. + +"What were we talking of when he interrupted us?" said Sir +Patrick to Blanche. + +"Of the man, uncle, who was with Miss Silvester at the inn." + +"It's useless to pursue that inquiry, my dear, with nothing +better than Mrs. Inchbare's description to help us." + +Blanche looked round at the sleeping Geoffrey. + +"And _he_ knows!" she said. "It's maddening, uncle, to look at +the brute snoring in his chair!" + +Sir Patrick held up a warning hand. Before a word more could be +said between them they were silenced again by another +interruption, + +The whist-party comprised Lady Lundie and the surgeon, playing as +partners against Smith and Jones. Arnold sat behind the surgeon, +taking a lesson in the game. One, Two, and Three, thus left to +their own devices, naturally thought of the billiard-table; and, +detecting Geoffrey asleep in his corner, advanced to disturb his +slumbers, under the all-sufficing apology of "Pool." Geoffrey +roused himself, and rubbed his eyes, and said, drowsily, "All +right." As he rose, he looked at the opposite corner in which Sir +Patrick and his niece were sitting. Blanche's self-possession, +resolutely as she struggled to preserve it, was not strong enough +to keep her eyes from turning toward Geoffrey with an expression +which betrayed the reluctant interest that she now felt in him. +He stopped, noticing something entirely new in the look with +which the young lady was regarding him. + +"Beg your pardon," said Geoffrey. "Do you wish to speak to me?" + +Blanche's face flushed all over. Her uncle came to the rescue. + +"Miss Lundie and I hope you have slept well Mr. Delamayn," said +Sir Patrick, jocosely. + "That's all." + +"Oh? That's all?" said Geoffrey still looking at Blanche. "Beg +your pardon again. Deuced long walk, and deuced heavy dinner. +Natural consequence--a nap." + +Sir Patrick eyed him closely. It was plain that he had been +honestly puzzled at finding himself an object of special +attention on Blanche's part. "See you in the billiard-room?" he +said, carelessly, and followed his companions out of the room--as +usual, without waiting for an answer. + +"Mind what you are about," said Sir Patrick to his niece. "That +man is quicker than he looks. We commit a serious mistake if we +put him on his guard at starting." + +"It sha'n't happen again, uncle," said Blanche. "But think of +_his_ being in Anne's confidence, and of _my_ being shut out of +it!" + +"In his friend's confidence, you mean, my dear; and (if we only +avoid awakening his suspicion) there is no knowing how soon he +may say or do something which may show us who his friend is." + +"But he is going back to his brother's to-morrow--he said so at +dinner-time." + +"So much the better. He will be out of the way of seeing strange +things in a certain young lady's face. His brother's house is +within easy reach of this; and I am his legal adviser. My +experience tells me that he has not done consulting me yet--and +that he will let out something more next time. So much for our +chance of seeing the light through Mr. Delamayn--if we can't see +it in any other way. And that is not our only chance, remember. I +have something to tell you about Bishopriggs and the lost +letter." + +"Is it found?" + +"No. I satisfied myself about that--I had it searched for, under +my own eye. The letter is stolen, Blanche; and Bishopriggs has +got it. I have left a line for him, in Mrs. Inchbare's care. The +old rascal is missed already by the visitors at the inn, just as +I told you he would be. His mistress is feeling the penalty of +having been fool enough to vent her ill temper on her +head-waiter. She lays the whole blame of the quarrel on Miss +Silvester, of course. Bishopriggs neglected every body at the inn +to wait on Miss Silvester. Bishopriggs was insolent on being +remonstrated with, and Miss Silvester encouraged him--and so on. +The result will be--now Miss Silvester has gone--that Bishopriggs +will return to Craig Fernie before the autumn is over. We are +sailing with wind and tide, my dear. Come, and learn to play +whist." + +He rose to join the card-players. Blanche detained him. + +"You haven't told me one thing yet," she said. "Whoever the man +may be, is Anne married to him?" + +"Whoever the man may be," returned Sir Patrick, "he had better +not attempt to marry any body else." + +So the niece unconsciously put the question, and so the uncle +unconsciously gave the answer on which depended the whole +happiness of Blanche's life to come, The "man!" How lightly they +both talked of the "man!" Would nothing happen to rouse the +faintest suspicion--in their minds or in Arnold's mind--that +Arnold was the "man" himself? + +"You mean that she _is_ married?" said Blanche. + +"I don't go as far as that." + +"You mean that she is _not_ married?" + +"I don't go so far as _that._" + +"Oh! the law! " + +"Provoking, isn't it, my dear? I can tell you, professionally, +that (in my opinion) she has grounds to go on if she claims to be +the man's wife. That is what I meant by my answer; and, until we +know more, that is all I can say." + +"When shall we know more? When shall we get the telegram?" + +"Not for some hours yet. Come, and learn to play whist." + +"I think I would rather talk to Arnold, uncle, if you don't +mind." + +"By all means! But don't talk to him about what I have been +telling you to-night. He and Mr. Delamayn are old associates, +remember; and he might blunder into telling his friend what his +friend had better not know. Sad (isn't it?) for me to be +instilling these lessons of duplicity into the youthful mind. A +wise person once said, 'The older a man gets the worse he gets.' +That wise person, my dear, had me in his eye, and was perfectly +right." + +He mitigated the pain of that confession with a pinch of snuff, +and went to the whist table to wait until the end of the rubber +gave him a place at the game. + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH. + +FORWARD. + +BLANCHE found her lover as attentive as usual to her slightest +wish, but not in his customary good spirits. He pleaded fatigue, +after his long watch at the cross-roads, as an excuse for his +depression. As long as there was any hope of a reconciliation +with Geoffrey, he was unwilling to tell Blanche what had happened +that afternoon. The hope grew fainter and fainter as the evening +advanced. Arnold purposely suggested a visit to the +billiard-room, and joined the game, with Blanche, to give +Geoffrey an opportunity of saying the few gracious words which +would have made them friends again. Geoffrey never spoke the +words; he obstinately ignored Arnold's presence in the room. + +At the card-table the whist went on interminably. Lady Lundie, +Sir Patrick, and the surgeon, were all inveterate players, evenly +matched. Smith and Jones (joining the game alternately) were aids +to whist, exactly as they were aids to conversation. The same +safe and modest mediocrity of style distinguished the proceedings +of these two gentlemen in all the affairs of life. + +The time wore on to midnight. They went to bed late and they rose +late at Windygates House. Under that hospitable roof, no +intrusive hints, in the shape of flat candlesticks exhibiting +themselves with ostentatious virtue on side-tables, hurried the +guest to his room; no vile bell rang him ruthlessly out of bed +the next morning, and insisted on his breakfasting at a given +hour. Life has surely hardships enough that are inevitable +without gratuitously adding the hardship of absolute government, +administered by a clock? + +It was a quarter past twelve when Lady Lundie rose blandly from +the whist-table, and said that she supposed somebody must set the +example of going to bed. Sir Patrick and Smith, the surgeon and +Jones, agreed on a last rubber. Blanche vanished while her +stepmother's eye was on her; and appeared again in the +drawing-room, when Lady Lundie was safe in the hands of her maid. +Nobody followed the example of the mistress of the house but +Arnold. He left the billiard-room with the certainty that it was +all over now between Geoffrey and himself. Not even the +attraction of Blanche proved strong enough to detain him that +night. He went his way to bed. + +It was past one o'clock. The final rubber was at an end, the +accounts were settled at the card-table; the surgeon had strolled +into the billiard-room, and Smith and Jones had followed him, +when Duncan came in, at last, with the telegram in his hand. + +Blanche turned from the broad, calm autumn moonlight which had +drawn her to the window, and looked over her uncle's shoulder +while he opened the telegram. + +She read the first line--and that was enough. The whole +scaffolding of hope built round that morsel of paper fell to the +ground in an instant. The train from Kirkandrew had reached +Edinburgh at the usual time. Every passenger in it had passed +under the eyes of the police, and nothing had been seen of any +person who answered the description given of Anne! + +Sir Patrick pointed to the two last sentences in the telegram: +"Inquiries telegraphed to Falkirk. If with any result, you shall +know." + +"We must hope for the best, Blanche. They evidently suspect her +of having got out at the junction of the two railways for the +purpose of giving the telegraph the slip. There is no help for +it. Go to bed, child--go to bed." + +Blanche kissed her uncle in silence and went away. The bright +young face was sad with the first hopeless sorrow which the old +man had yet seen in it. His niece's parting look dwelt painfully +on his mind when he was up in his room, with the faithful Duncan +getting him ready for his bed. + +"This is a bad business, Duncan. I don't like to say so to Miss +Lundie; but I greatly fear the governess has baffled us." + +"It seems likely, Sir Patrick. The poor young lady looks quite +heart-broken about it." + +"You noticed that too, did you? She has lived all her life, you +see, with Miss Silvester; and there is a very strong attachment +between them. I am uneasy about my niece, Duncan. I am afraid +this disappointment will have a serious effect on her." + +"She's young, Sir Patrick." + +"Yes, my friend, she's young; but the young (when they are good +for any thing) have warm hearts. Winter hasn't stolen on _them,_ +Duncan! And they feel keenly." + +"I think there's reason to hope, Sir, that Miss Lundie may get +over it more easily than you suppose." + +"What reason, pray?" + +"A person in my position can hardly venture to speak freely, Sir, +on a delicate matter of this kind." + +Sir Patrick's temper flashed out, half-seriously, +half-whimsically, as usual. + +"Is that a snap at Me, you old dog? If I am not your friend, as +well as your master, who is? Am _I_ in the habit of keeping any +of my harmless fellow-creatures at a distance? I despise the cant +of modern Liberalism; but it's not the less true that I have, all +my life, protested against the inhuman separation of classes in +England. We are, in that respect, brag as we may of our national +virtue, the most unchristian people in the civilized world." + +"I beg your pardon, Sir Patrick--" + +"God help me! I'm talking polities at this time of night! It's +your fault, Duncan. What do you mean by casting my station in my +teeth, because I can't put my night-cap on comfortably till you +have brushed my hair? I have a good mind to get up and brush +yours. There! there! I'm uneasy about my niece--nervous +irritability, my good fellow, that's all. Let's hear what you +have to say about Miss Lundie. And go on with my hair. And don't +be a humbug." + +"I was about to remind you, Sir Patrick, that Miss Lundie has +another interest in her life to turn to. If this matter of Miss +Silvester ends badly--and I own it begins to look as if it +would--I should hurry my niece's marriage, Sir, and see if _that_ +wouldn't console her." + +Sir Patrick started under the gentle discipline of the hair-brush +in Duncan's hand. + +"That's very sensibly put," said the old gentleman. "Duncan! you +are, what I call, a clear-minded man. Well worth thinking of, old +Truepenny! If the worst comes to the worst, well worth thinking +of!" + +It was not the first time that Duncan's steady good sense had +struck light, under the form of a new thought, in his master's +mind. But never yet had he wrought such mischief as the mischief +which he had innocently done now. He had sent Sir Patrick to bed +with the fatal idea of hastening the marriage of Arnold and +Blanche. + +The situation of affairs at Windygates--now that Anne had +apparently obliterated all trace of herself--was becoming +serious. The one chance on which the discovery of Arnold's +position depended, was the chance that accident might reveal the +truth in the lapse of time. In this posture of circumstances, Sir +Patrick now resolved--if nothing happened to relieve Blanche's +anxiety in the course of the week--to advance the celebration of +the marriage from the end of the autumn (as originally +contemplated) to the first fortnight of the ensuing month. As +dates then stood, the change led (so far as free scope for the +development of accident was concerned) to this serious result. It +abridged a lapse of three months into an interval of three weeks. + + + +The next morning came; and Blanche marked it as a memorable +morning, by committing an act of imprudence, which struck away +one more of the chances of discovery that had existed, before the +arrival of the Edinburgh telegram on the previous day. + +She had passed a sleepless night; fevered in mind and body; +thinking, hour after hour, of nothing but Anne. At sunrise she +could endure it no longer. Her power to control herself was +completely exhausted; her own impulses led her as they pleased. +She got up, determined not to let Geoffrey leave the house +without risking an effort to make him reveal what he knew about +Anne. It was nothing less than downright treason to Sir Patrick +to act on her own responsibility in this way. She knew it was +wrong; she was heartily ashamed of herself for doing it. But the +demon that possesses women with a recklessness all their own, at +the critical moments of their lives, had got her--and she did it. + +Geoffrey had arranged overnight, to breakfast early, by himself, +and to walk the ten miles to his brother's house; sending a +servant to fetch his luggage later in the day. + +He had got on his hat; he was standing in the hall, searching his +pocket for his second self, the pipe--when Blanche suddenly +appeared from the morning-room, and placed herself between him +and the house door. + +"Up early--eh?" said Geoffrey. "I'm off to my brother's." + +She made no reply. He looked at her closer. The girl's eyes were +trying to read his face, with an utter carelessness of +concealment, which forbade (even to his mind) all unworthy +interpretation of her motive for stopping him on his way out + +"Any commands for me?" he inquired + +This time she answered him. "I have something to ask you," she +said. + +He smiled graciously, and opened his tobacco-pouch. He was fresh +and strong after his night's sleep--healthy and handsome and +good-humored. The house-maids had had a peep at him that morning, +and had wished--like Desdemona, with a difference--that "Heaven +had made all three of them such a man." + +"Well," he said, "what is it?" + +She put her question, without a single word of preface--purposely +to surprise him. + +"Mr. Delamayn," she said, "do you know where Anne Silvester is +this morning?" + +He was filling his pipe as she spoke, and he dropped some of the +tobacco on the floor. Instead of answering before he picked up +the tobacco he answered after--in surly self-possession, and in +one word--"No." + +"Do you know nothing about her?" + +He devoted himself doggedly to the filling of his pipe. +"Nothing." + +"On your word of honor, as a gentleman?" + +"On my word of honor, as a gentleman." + +He put back his tobacco-pouch in his pocket. His handsome face +was as hard as stone. His clear blue eyes defied all the girls in +England put together to see into _his_ mind. "Have you done, Miss +Lundie?" he asked, suddenly changing to a bantering politeness of +tone and manner. + +Blanche saw that it was hopeless--saw that she had compromised +her own interests by her own headlong act. Sir Patrick's warning +words came back reproachfully to her now when it was too late. +"We commit a serious mistake if we put him on his guard at +starting." + +There was but one course to take now. "Yes," she said. "I have +done." + +"My turn now," rejoined Geoffrey. "You want to know where Miss +Silvester is. Why do you ask Me?" + +Blanche did all that could be done toward repairing the error +that she had committed. She kept Geoffrey as far away as Geoffrey +had kept _her_ from the truth. + +"I happen to know," she replied "that Miss Silvester left the +place at which she had been staying about the time when you went +out walking yesterday. And I thought you might have seen her." + +"Oh? That's the reason--is it?" said Geoffrey, with a smile. + +The smile stung Blanche's sensitive temper to the quick. She made +a final effort to control herself, before her indignation got the +better of her. + +"I have no more to say, Mr. Delamayn." With that reply she turned +her back on him, and closed the door of the morning-room between +them. + +Geoffrey descended the house steps and lit his pipe. He was not +at the slightest loss, on this occasion, to account for what had +happened. He assumed at once that Arnold had taken a mean revenge +on him after his conduct of the day before, and had told the +whole secret of his errand at Craig Fernie to Blanche. The thing +would get next, no doubt, to Sir Patrick's ears; and Sir Patrick +would thereupon be probably the first person who revealed to +Arnold the position in which he had placed himself with Anne. All +right! Sir Patrick would be an excellent witness to appeal to, +when the scandal broke out, and when the time came for +repudiating Anne's claim on him as the barefaced imposture of a +woman who was married already to another man. He puffed away +unconcernedly at his pipe, and started, at his swinging, steady +pace, for his brother's house. + +Blanche remained alone in the morning-room. The prospect of +getting at the truth, by means of what Geoffrey might say on the +next occasion when he co nsulted Sir Patrick, was a prospect that +she herself had closed from that moment. She sat down in despair +by the window. It commanded a view of the little side-terrace +which had been Anne's favorite walk at Windygates. With weary +eyes and aching heart the poor child looked at the familiar +place; and asked herself, with the bitter repentance that comes +too late, if she had destroyed the last chance of finding Anne! + +She sat passively at the window, while the hours of the morning +wore on, until the postman came. Before the servant could take +the letter bag she was in the hall to receive it. Was it possible +to hope that the bag had brought tidings of Anne? She sorted the +letters; and lighted suddenly on a letter to herself. It bore the +Kirkandrew postmark, and It was addressed to her in Anne's +handwriting. + +She tore the letter open, and read these lines: + +"I have left you forever, Blanche. God bless and reward you! God +make you a happy woman in all your life to come! Cruel as you +will think me, love, I have never been so truly your sister as I +am now. I can only tell you this--I can never tell you more. +Forgive me, and forget me, our lives are parted lives from this +day." + + + +Going down to breakfast about his usual hour, Sir Patrick missed +Blanche, whom he was accustomed to see waiting for him at the +table at that time. The room was empty; the other members of the +household having all finished their morning meal. Sir Patrick +disliked breakfasting alone. He sent Duncan with a message, to be +given to Blanche's maid. + +The maid appeared in due time Miss Lundie was unable to leave her +room. She sent a letter to her uncle, with her love--and begged +he would read it. + +Sir Patrick opened the letter and saw what Anne had written to +Blanche. + +He waited a little, reflecting, with evident pain and anxiety, on +what he had read--then opened his own letters, and hurriedly +looked at the signatures. There was nothing for him from his +friend, the sheriff, at Edinburgh, and no communication from the +railway, in the shape of a telegram. He had decided, overnight, +on waiting till the end of the week before he interfered in the +matter of Blanche's marriage. The events of the morning +determined him on not waiting another day. Duncan returned to the +breakfast-room to pour out his master's coffee. Sir Patrick sent +him away again with a second message + +"Do you know where Lady Lundie is, Duncan?" + +"Yes, Sir Patrick." + +"My compliments to her ladyship. If she is not otherwise engaged, +I shall be glad to speak to her privately in an hour's time." + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH. + +DROPPED. + +SIR PATRICK made a bad breakfast. Blanche's absence fretted him, +and Anne Silvester's letter puzzled him. + +He read it, short as it was, a second time, and a third. If it +meant any thing, it meant that the motive at the bottom of Anne's +flight was to accomplish the sacrifice of herself to the +happiness of Blanche. She had parted for life from his niece for +his niece's sake! What did this mean? And how was it to be +reconciled with Anne's position--as described to him by Mrs. +Inchbare during his visit to Craig Fernie? + +All Sir Patrick's ingenuity, and all Sir Patrick's experience, +failed to find so much as the shadow of an answer to that +question. + +While he was still pondering over the letter, Arnold and the +surgeon entered the breakfast-room together. + +"Have you heard about Blanche?" asked Arnold, excitedly. "She is +in no danger, Sir Patrick--the worst of it is over now." + +The surgeon interposed before Sir Patrick could appeal to him. + +"Mr. Brinkworth's interest in the young lady a little exaggerates +the state of the case," he said. "I have seen her, at Lady +Lundie's request; and I can assure you that there is not the +slightest reason for any present alarm. Miss Lundie has had a +nervous attack, which has yielded to the simplest domestic +remedies. The only anxiety you need feel is connected with the +management of her in the future. She is suffering from some +mental distress, which it is not for me, but for her friends, to +alleviate and remove. If you can turn her thoughts from the +painful subject--whatever it may be--on which they are dwelling +now, you will do all that needs to be done." He took up a +newspaper from the table, and strolled out into the garden, +leaving Sir Patrick and Arnold together. + +"You heard that?" said Sir Patrick. + +"Is he right, do you think?" asked Arnold. + +"Right? Do you suppose a man gets _his_ reputation by making +mistakes? You're one of the new generation, Master Arnold. You +can all of you stare at a famous man; but you haven't an atom of +respect for his fame. If Shakspeare came to life again, and +talked of playwriting, the first pretentious nobody who sat +opposite at dinner would differ with him as composedly as he +might differ with you and me. Veneration is dead among us; the +present age has buried it, without a stone to mark the place. So +much for that! Let's get back to Blanche. I suppose you can guess +what the painful subject is that's dwelling on her mind? Miss +Silvester has baffled me, and baffled the Edinburgh police. +Blanche discovered that we had failed last night and Blanche +received that letter this morning." + +He pushed Anne's letter across the breakfast-table. + +Arnold read it, and handed it back without a word. Viewed by the +new light in which he saw Geoffrey's character after the quarrel +on the heath, the letter conveyed but one conclusion to his mind. +Geoffrey had deserted her. + +"Well?" said Sir Patrick. "Do you understand what it means?" + +"I understand Blanche's wretchedness when she read it." + +He said no more than that. It was plain that no information which +he could afford--even if he had considered himself at liberty to +give it--would be of the slightest use in assisting Sir Patrick +to trace Miss Silvester, under present circumstances, There +was--unhappily--no temptation to induce him to break the +honorable silence which he had maintained thus far. And--more +unfortunately still--assuming the temptation to present itself, +Arnold's capacity to resist it had never been so strong a +capacity as it was now. + +To the two powerful motives which had hitherto tied his +tongue--respect for Anne's reputation, and reluctance to reveal +to Blanche the deception which he had been compelled to practice +on her at the inn--to these two motives there was now added a +third. The meanness of betraying the confidence which Geoffrey +had reposed in him would be doubled meanness if he proved false +to his trust after Geoffrey had personally insulted him. The +paltry revenge which that false friend had unhesitatingly +suspected him of taking was a revenge of which Arnold's nature +was simply incapable. Never had his lips been more effectually +sealed than at this moment--when his whole future depended on Sir +Patrick's discovering the part that he had played in past events +at Craig Fernie. + +"Yes! yes!" resumed Sir Patrick, impatiently. "Blanche's distress +is intelligible enough. But here is my niece apparently +answerable for this unhappy woman's disappearance. Can you +explain what my niece has got to do with it?" + +"I! Blanche herself is completely mystified. How should _I_ +know?" + +Answering in those terms, he spoke with perfect sincerity. Anne's +vague distrust of the position in which they had innocently +placed themselves at the inn had produced no corresponding effect +on Arnold at the time. He had not regarded it; he had not even +understood it. As a necessary result, not the faintest suspicion +of the motive under which Anne was acting existed in his mind +now. + +Sir Patrick put the letter into his pocket-book, and abandoned +all further attempt at interpreting the meaning of it in despair. + +"Enough, and more than enough, of groping in the dark," he said. +"One point is clear to me after what has happened up stairs this +morning. We must accept the position in which Miss Silvester has +placed us. I shall give up all further effort to trace her from +this moment." + +"Surely that will be a dreadful disappointment to Blanche, Sir +Patrick?" + +"I don't deny it. We must face that result." + +"If you are sure there is nothing else to be done, I suppose we +must." + +"I am not sure of any thing of the so rt, Master Arnold! There +are two chances still left of throwing light on this matter, +which are both of them independent of any thing that Miss +Silvester can do to keep it in the dark." + +"Then why not try them, Sir? It seems hard to drop Miss Silvester +when she is in trouble." + +"We can't help her against her own will," rejoined Sir Patrick. +"And we can't run the risk, after that nervous attack this +morning, of subjecting Blanche to any further suspense. I have +thought of my niece's interests throughout this business; and if +I now change my mind, and decline to agitate her by more +experiments, ending (quite possibly) in more failures, it is +because I am thinking of her interests still. I have no other +motive. However numerous my weaknesses may be, ambition to +distinguish myself as a detective policeman is not one of them. +The case, from the police point of view, is by no means a lost +case. I drop it, nevertheless, for Blanche's sake. Instead of +encouraging her thoughts to dwell on this melancholy business, we +must apply the remedy suggested by our medical friend." + +"How is that to be done?" asked Arnold. + +The sly twist of humor began to show itself in Sir Patrick's +face. + +"Has she nothing to think of in the future, which is a pleasanter +subject of reflection than the loss of her friend?" he asked. +"You are interested, my young gentleman, in the remedy that is to +cure Blanche. You are one of the drugs in the moral prescription. +Can you guess what it is?" + +Arnold started to his feet, and brightened into a new being. + +"Perhaps you object to be hurried?" said Sir Patrick. + +"Object! If Blanche will only consent, I'll take her to church as +soon as she comes down stairs!" + +"Thank you!" said Sir Patrick, dryly. "Mr. Arnold Brinkworth, may +you always be as ready to take Time by the forelock as you are +now! Sit down again; and don't talk nonsense. It is just +possible--if Blanche consents (as you say), and if we can hurry +the lawyers--that you may be married in three weeks' or a month's +time." + +"What have the lawyers got to do with it?" + +"My good fellow, this is not a marriage in a novel! This is the +most unromantic affair of the sort that ever happened. Here are a +young gentleman and a young lady, both rich people; both well +matched in birth and character; one of age, and the other +marrying with the full consent and approval of her guardian. What +is the consequence of this purely prosaic state of things? +Lawyers and settlements, of course!" + +"Come into the library, Sir Patrick; and I'll soon settle the +settlements! A bit of paper, and a dip of ink. 'I hereby give +every blessed farthing I have got in the world to my dear +Blanche.' Sign that; stick a wafer on at the side; clap your +finger on the wafer; 'I deliver this as my act and deed;' and +there it is--done!" + +"Is it, really? You are a born legislator. You create and codify +your own system all in a breath. Moses-Justinian-Mahomet, give me +your arm! There is one atom of sense in what you have just said. +'Come into the library'--is a suggestion worth attending to. Do +you happen, among your other superfluities, to have such a thing +as a lawyer about you?" + +"I have got two. One in London, and one in Edinburgh." + +"We will take the nearest of the two, because we are in a hurry. +Who is the Edinburgh lawyer? Pringle of Pitt Street? Couldn't be +a better man. Come and write to him. You have given me your +abstract of a marriage settlement with the brevity of an ancient +Roman. I scorn to be outdone by an amateur lawyer. Here is _my_ +abstract: You are just and generous to Blanche; Blanche is just +and generous to you; and you both combine to be just and generous +together to your children. There is a model settlement! and there +are your instructions to Pringle of Pitt Street! Can you do it by +yourself? No; of course you can't. Now don't be slovenly-minded! +See the points in their order as they come. You are going to be +married; you state to whom, you add that I am the lady's +guardian; you give the name and address of my lawyer in +Edinburgh; you write your instructions plainly in the fewest +words, and leave details to your legal adviser; you refer the +lawyers to each other; you request that the draft settlements be +prepared as speedily as possible, and you give your address at +this house. There are the heads. Can't you do it now? Oh, the +rising generation! Oh, the progress we are making in these +enlightened modern times! There! there! you can marry Blanche, +and make her happy, and increase the population--and all without +knowing how to write the English language. One can only say with +the learned Bevorskius, looking out of his window at the +illimitable loves of the sparrows, 'How merciful is Heaven to its +creatures!' Take up the pen. I'll dictate! I'll dictate!" + +Sir Patrick read the letter over, approved of it, and saw it safe +in the box for the post. This done, he peremptorily forbade +Arnold to speak to his niece on the subject of the marriage +without his express permission. "There's somebody else's consent +to be got," he said, "besides Blanche's consent and mine." + +"Lady Lundie?" + +"Lady Lundie. Strictly speaking, I am the only authority. But my +sister-in-law is Blanche's step-mother, and she is appointed +guardian in the event of my death. She has a right to be +consulted--in courtesy, if not in law. Would you like to do it?" + +Arnold's face fell. He looked at Sir Patrick in silent dismay. + +"What! you can't even speak to such a perfectly pliable person as +Lady Lundie? You may have been a very useful fellow at sea. A +more helpless young man I never met with on shore. Get out with +you into the garden among the other sparrows! Somebody must +confront her ladyship. And if you won't--I must." + +He pushed Arnold out of the library, and applied meditatively to +the knob of his cane. His gayety disappeared, now that he was +alone. His experience of Lady Lundie's character told him that, +in attempting to win her approval to any scheme for hurrying +Blanche's marriage, he was undertaking no easy task. "I suppose," +mused Sir Patrick, thinking of his late brother--"I suppose poor +Tom had some way of managing her. How did he do it, I wonder? If +she had been the wife of a bricklayer, she is the sort of woman +who would have been kept in perfect order by a vigorous and +regular application of her husband's fist. But Tom wasn't a +bricklayer. I wonder how Tom did it?" After a little hard +thinking on this point Sir Patrick gave up the problem as beyond +human solution. "It must be done," he concluded. "And my own +mother-wit must help me to do it." + +In that resigned frame of mind he knocked at the door of Lady +Lundie's boudoir. + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH. + +OUTWITTED. + +SIR PATRICK found his sister-in-law immersed in domestic +business. Her ladyship's correspondence and visiting list, her +ladyship's household bills and ledgers; her ladyship's Diary and +Memorandum-book (bound in scarlet morocco); her ladyship's desk, +envelope-case, match-box, and taper candlestick (all in ebony and +silver); her ladyship herself, presiding over her +responsibilities, and wielding her materials, equal to any calls +of emergency, beautifully dressed in correct morning costume, +blessed with perfect health both of the secretions and the +principles; absolutely void of vice, and formidably full of +virtue, presented, to every properly-constituted mind, the most +imposing spectacle known to humanity--the British Matron on her +throne, asking the world in general, When will you produce the +like of Me? + +"I am afraid I disturb you," said Sir Patrick. "I am a perfectly +idle person. Shall I look in a little later?" + +Lady Lundie put her hand to her head, and smiled faintly. + +"A little pressure _here,_ Sir Patrick. Pray sit down. Duty finds +me earnest; Duty finds me cheerful; Duty finds me accessible. +From a poor, weak woman, Duty must expect no more. Now what is +it?" (Her ladyship consulted her scarlet memorandum-book.) "I +have got it here, under its proper head, distinguished by initial +letters. P.--the. poor. No. H.M.--heathen missions. No. +V.T.A.--Visitors to arrive. No. P. I. P.--Here it is: private +interview with Patrick. Will you forgive me the little harmless +familiari ty of omitting your title? Thank you! You are always so +good. I am quite at your service when you like to begin. If it's +any thing painful, pray don't hesitate. I am quite prepared." + +With that intimation her ladyship threw herself back in her +chair, with her elbows on the arms, and her fingers joined at the +tips, as if she was receiving a deputation. "Yes?" she said, +interrogatively. Sir Patrick paid a private tribute of pity to +his late brother's memory, and entered on his business. + +"We won't call it a painful matter," he began. "Let us say it's a +matter of domestic anxiety. Blanche--" + +Lady Lundie emitted a faint scream, and put her hand over her +eyes. + +"_Must_ you?" cried her ladyship, in a tone of touching +remonstrance. "Oh, Sir Patrick, _must_ you?" + +"Yes. I must." + +Lady Lundie's magnificent eyes looked up at that hidden court of +human appeal which is lodged in the ceiling. The hidden court +looked down at Lady Lundie, and saw--Duty advertising itself in +the largest capital letters. + +"Go on, Sir Patrick. The motto of woman is Self-sacrifice. You +sha'n't see how you distress me. Go on." + +Sir Patrick went on impenetrably--without betraying the slightest +expression of sympathy or surprise. + +"I was about to refer to the nervous attack from which Blanche +has suffered this morning," he said. "May I ask whether you have +been informed of the cause to which the attack is attributable?" + +"There!" exclaimed Lady Lundie with a sudden bound in her chair, +and a sudden development of vocal power to correspond. "The one +thing I shrank from speaking of! the cruel, cruel, cruel behavior +I was prepared to pass over! And Sir Patrick hints on it! +Innocently--don't let me do an injustice--innocently hints on +it!" + +"Hints on what, my dear Madam?" + +"Blanche's conduct to me this morning. Blanche's heartless +secrecy. Blanche's undutiful silence. I repeat the words: +Heartless secrecy. Undutiful silence." + +"Allow me for one moment, Lady Lundie--" + +"Allow _me,_ Sir Patrick! Heaven knows how unwilling I am to +speak of it. Heaven knows that not a word of reference to it +escaped _my_ lips. But you leave me no choice now. As mistress of +the household, as a Christian woman, as the widow of your dear +brother, as a mother to this misguided girl, I must state the +facts. I know you mean well; I know you wish to spare me. Quite +useless! I must state the facts." + +Sir Patrick bowed, and submitted. (If he had only been a +bricklayer! and if Lady Lundie had not been, what her ladyship +unquestionably was, the strongest person of the two!) + +"Permit me to draw a veil, for your sake," said Lady Lundie, +"over the horrors--I can not, with the best wish to spare you, +conscientiously call them by any other name--the horrors that +took place up stairs. The moment I heard that Blanche was ill I +was at my post. Duty will always find me ready, Sir Patrick, to +my dying day. Shocking as the whole thing was, I presided calmly +over the screams and sobs of my step-daughter. I closed my ears +to the profane violence of her language. I set the necessary +example, as an English gentlewoman at the head of her household. +It was only when I distinctly heard the name of a person, never +to be mentioned again in my family circle, issue (if I may use +the expression) from Blanche's lips that I began to be really +alarmed. I said to my maid: 'Hopkins, this is not Hysteria. This +is a possession of the devil. Fetch the chloroform.' " + +Chloroform, applied in the capacity of an exorcism, was entirely +new to Sir Patrick. He preserved his gravity with considerable +difficulty. Lady Lundie went on: + +"Hopkins is an excellent person--but Hopkins has a tongue. She +met our distinguished medical guest in the corridor, and told +him. He was so good as to come to the door. I was shocked to +trouble him to act in his professional capacity while he was a +visitor, an honored visitor, in my house. Besides, I considered +it more a case for a clergyman than for a medical man. However, +there was no help for it after Hopkins's tongue. I requested our +eminent friend to favor us with--I think the exact scientific +term is--a Prognosis. He took the purely material view which was +only to be expected from a person in his profession. He +prognosed--_am_ I right? Did he prognose? or did he diagnose? A +habit of speaking correctly is _so_ important, Sir Patrick! and I +should be _so_ grieved to mislead you!" + +"Never mind, Lady Lundie! I have heard the medical report. Don't +trouble yourself to repeat it." + +"Don't trouble myself to repeat it?" echoed Lady Lundie--with her +dignity up in arms at the bare prospect of finding her remarks +abridged. "Ah, Sir Patrick! that little constitutional impatience +of yours!--Oh, dear me! how often you must have given way to it, +and how often you must have regretted it, in your time!" + +"My dear lady! if you wish to repeat the report, why not say so, +in plain words? Don't let me hurry you. Let us have the +prognosis, by all means." + +Lady Lundie shook her head compassionately, and smiled with +angelic sadness. "Our little besetting sins!" she said. "What +slaves we are to our little besetting sins! Take a turn in the +room--do!" + +Any ordinary man would have lost his temper. But the law (as Sir +Patrick had told his niece) has a special temper of its own. +Without exhibiting the smallest irritation, Sir Patrick +dextrously applied his sister-in-law's blister to his +sister-in-law herself. + +"What an eye you have!" he said. "I was impatient. I _am_ +impatient. I am dying to know what Blanche said to you when she +got better?" + +The British Matron froze up into a matron of stone on the spot. + +"Nothing!" answered her ladyship, with a vicious snap of her +teeth, as if she had tried to bite the word before it escaped +her. + +"Nothing!" exclaimed Sir Patrick. + +"Nothing," repeated Lady Lundie, with her most formidable +emphasis of look and tone. "I applied all the remedies with my +own hands; I cut her laces with my own scissors, I completely +wetted her head through with cold water; I remained with her +until she was quite exhausted- I took her in my arms, and folded +her to my bosom; I sent every body out of the room; I said, 'Dear +child, confide in me.' And how were my advances--my motherly +advances--met? I have already told you. By heartless secrecy. By +undutiful silence." + +Sir Patrick pressed the blister a little closer to the skin. "She +was probably afraid to speak," he said. + +"Afraid? Oh!" cried Lady Lundie, distrusting the evidence of her +own senses. "You can't have said that? I have evidently +misapprehended you. You didn't really say, afraid?" + +"I said she was probably afraid--" + +"Stop! I can't be told to my face that I have failed to do my +duty by Blanche. No, Sir Patrick! I can bear a great deal; but I +can't bear that. After having been more than a mother to your +dear brother's child; after having been an elder sister to +Blanche; after having toiled--I say _toiled,_ Sir Patrick!--to +cultivate her intelligence (with the sweet lines of the poet ever +present to my memory: 'Delightful task to rear the tender mind, +and teach the young idea how to shoot!'); after having done all I +have done--a place in the carriage only yesterday, and a visit to +the most interesting relic of feudal times in Perthshire--after +having sacrificed all I have sacrificed, to be told that I have +behaved in such a manner to Blanche as to frighten her when I ask +her to confide in me, is a little too cruel. I have a +sensitive--an unduly sensitive nature, dear Sir Patrick. Forgive +me for wincing when I am wounded. Forgive me for feeling it when +the wound is dealt me by a person whom I revere." + +Her ladyship put her handkerchief to her eyes. Any other man +would have taken off the blister. Sir Patrick pressed it harder +than ever. + +"You quite mistake me," he replied. "I meant that Blanche was +afraid to tell you the true cause of her illness. The true cause +is anxiety about Miss Silvester." + +Lady Lundie emitted another scream--a loud scream this time--and +closed her eyes in horror. + +"I can run out of the house," cried her ladyship, wildly. "I can +fly to the uttermost corners of the earth; but I can _not_ hear +that person's name mentioned! No, Sir Patrick! not in my pre +sence! not in my room! not while I am mistress at Windygates +House!" + +"I am sorry to say any thing that is disagreeable to you, Lady +Lundie. But the nature of my errand here obliges me to touch--as +lightly as possible--on something which has happened in your +house without your knowledge." + +Lady Lundie suddenly opened her eyes, and became the picture of +attention. A casual observer might have supposed her ladyship to +be not wholly inaccessible to the vulgar emotion of curiosity. + +"A visitor came to Windygates yesterday, while we were all at +lunch," proceeded Sir Patrick. "She--" + +Lady Lundie seized the scarlet memorandum-book, and stopped her +brother-in-law, before he could get any further. Her ladyship's +next words escaped her lips spasmodically, like words let at +intervals out of a trap. + +"I undertake--as a woman accustomed to self-restraint, Sir +Patrick--I undertake to control myself, on one condition. I won't +have the name mentioned. I won't have the sex mentioned. Say, +'The Person,' if you please. 'The Person,' " continued Lady +Lundie, opening her memorandum-book and taking up her pen, +"committed an audacious invasion of my premises yesterday?" + +Sir Patrick bowed. Her ladyship made a note--a fiercely-penned +note that scratched the paper viciously--and then proceeded to +examine her brother-in-law, in the capacity of witness. + +"What part of my house did 'The Person' invade? Be very careful, +Sir Patrick! I propose to place myself under the protection of a +justice of the peace; and this is a memorandum of my statement. +The library--did I understand you to say? Just so--the library." + +"Add," said Sir Patrick, with another pressure on the blister, +"that The Person had an interview with Blanche in the library." + +Lady Lundie's pen suddenly stuck in the paper, and scattered a +little shower of ink-drops all round it. "The library," repeated +her ladyship, in a voice suggestive of approaching suffocation. +"I undertake to control myself, Sir Patrick! Any thing missing +from the library?" + +"Nothing missing, Lady Lundie, but The Person herself. She--" + +"No, Sir Patrick! I won't have it! In the name of my own sex, I +won't have it!" + +"Pray pardon me--I forgot that 'she' was a prohibited pronoun on +the present occasion. The Person has written a farewell letter to +Blanche, and has gone nobody knows where. The distress produced +by these events is alone answerable for what has happened to +Blanche this morning. If you bear that in mind--and if you +remember what your own opinion is of Miss Silvester--you will +understand why Blanche hesitated to admit you into her +confidence." + +There he waited for a reply. Lady Lundie was too deeply absorbed +in completing her memorandum to be conscious of his presence in +the room. + +" 'Carriage to be at the door at two-thirty,' " said Lady Lundie, +repeating the final words of the memorandum while she wrote them. +" 'Inquire for the nearest justice of the peace, and place the +privacy of Windygates under the protection of the law.'--I beg +your pardon!" exclaimed her ladyship, becoming conscious again of +Sir Patrick's presence. "Have I missed any thing particularly +painful? Pray mention it if I have!" + +"You have missed nothing of the slightest importance," returned +Sir Patrick. "I have placed you in possession of facts which you +had a right to know; and we have now only to return to our +medical friend's report on Blanche's health. You were about to +favor me, I think, with the Prognosis?" + +"Diagnosis!" said her ladyship, spitefully. "I had forgotten at +the time--I remember now. Prognosis is entirely wrong." + +"I sit corrected, Lady Lundie. Diagnosis." + +"You have informed me, Sir Patrick, that you were already +acquainted with the Diagnosis. It is quite needless for me to +repeat it now." + +"I was anxious to correct my own impression, my dear lady, by +comparing it with yours." + +"You are very good. You are a learned man. I am only a poor +ignorant woman. Your impression can not possibly require +correcting by mine." + +"My impression, Lady Lundie, was that our so friend recommended +moral, rather than medical, treatment for Blanche. If we can turn +her thoughts from the painful subject on which they are now +dwelling, we shall do all that is needful. Those were his own +words, as I remember them. Do you confirm me?" + +"Can _I_ presume to dispute with you, Sir Patrick? You are a +master of refined irony, I know. I am afraid it's all thrown away +on poor me." + +(The law kept its wonderful temper! The law met the most +exasperating of living women with a counter-power of defensive +aggravation all its own!) + +"I take that as confirming me, Lady Lundie. Thank you. Now, as to +the method of carrying out our friend's advice. The method seems +plain. All we can do to divert Blanche's mind is to turn +Blanche's attention to some other subject of reflection less +painful than the subject which occupies her now. Do you agree, so +far?" + +"Why place the whole responsibility on my shoulders?" inquired +Lady Lundie. + +"Out of profound deference for your opinion," answered Sir +Patrick. "Strictly speaking, no doubt, any serious responsibility +rests with me. I am Blanche's guardian--" + +"Thank God!" cried Lady Lundie, with a perfect explosion of pious +fervor. + +"I hear an outburst of devout thankfulness," remarked Sir +Patrick. "Am I to take it as expressing--let me say--some little +doubt, on your part, as to the prospect of managing Blanche +successfully, under present circumstances?" + +Lady Lundie's temper began to give way again--exactly as her +brother-in-law had anticipated. + +"You are to take it," she said, "as expressing my conviction that +I saddled myself with the charge of an incorrigibly heartless, +obstinate and perverse girl, when I undertook the care of +Blanche." + +"Did you say 'incorrigibly?' " + +"I said 'incorrigibly.' " + +"If the case is as hopeless as that, my dear Madam--as Blanche's +guardian, I ought to find means to relieve you of the charge of +Blanche." + +"Nobody shall relieve _me_ of a duty that I have once +undertaken!" retorted Lady Lundie. "Not if I die at my post!" + +"Suppose it was consistent with your duty," pleaded Sir Patrick, +"to be relieved at your post? Suppose it was in harmony with that +'self-sacrifice' which is 'the motto of women?' " + +"I don't understand you, Sir Patrick. Be so good as to explain +yourself." + +Sir Patrick assumed a new character--the character of a +hesitating man. He cast a look of respectful inquiry at his +sister-in-law, sighed, and shook his head. + +"No!" he said. "It would be asking too much. Even with your high +standard of duty, it would be asking too much." + +"Nothing which you can ask me in the name of duty is too much." + +"No! no! Let me remind you. Human nature has its limits." + +"A Christian gentlewoman's sense of duty knows no limits." + +"Oh, surely yes!" + +"Sir Patrick! after what I have just said your perseverance in +doubting me amounts to something like an insult!" + +"Don't say that! Let me put a case. Let's suppose the future +interests of another person depend on your saying, Yes--when all +your own most cherished ideas and opinions urge you to say, No. +Do you really mean to tell me that you could trample your own +convictions under foot, if it could be shown that the purely +abstract consideration of duty was involved in the sacrifice?" + +"Yes!" cried Lady Lundie, mounting the pedestal of her virtue on +the spot. "Yes--without a moment's hesitation!" + +"I sit corrected, Lady Lundie. You embolden me to proceed. Allow +me to ask (after what I just heard)--whether it is not your duty +to act on advice given for Blanche's benefit, by one the highest +medical authorities in England?" Her ladyship admitted that it +was her duty; pending a more favorable opportunity for +contradicting her brother-in-law. + +"Very good," pursued Sir Patrick. "Assuming that Blanche is like +most other human beings, and has some prospect of happiness to +contemplate, if she could only be made to see it--are we not +bound to make her see it, by our moral obligation to act on the +medical advice?" He cast a courteously-persuasive look at her +ladyship, and paused in the most innocent manner for a reply. + +If Lady Lundie had not been bent--thanks to the irritation +fomented by her brother-in-law--on disputing the ground with him, +inch by inch, she must have seen signs, by this time, of the +snare that was being set for her. As it was, she saw nothing but +the opportunity of disparaging Blanche and contradicting Sir +Patrick. + +"If my step-daughter had any such prospect as you describe," she +answered, "I should of course say, Yes. But Blanche's is an +ill-regulated mind. An ill-regulated mind has no prospect of +happiness." + +"Pardon me," said Sir Patrick. "Blanche _has_ a prospect of +happiness. In other words, Blanche has a prospect of being +married. And what is more, Arnold Brinkworth is ready to marry +her as soon as the settlements can be prepared." + +Lady Lundie started in her chair--turned crimson with rage--and +opened her lips to speak. Sir Patrick rose to his feet, and went +on before she could utter a word. + +"I beg to relieve you, Lady Lundie--by means which you have just +acknowledged it to be your duty to accept--of all further charge +of an incorrigible girl. As Blanche's guardian, I have the honor +of proposing that her marriage be advanced to a day to be +hereafter named in the first fortnight of the ensuing month." + +In those words he closed the trap which he had set for his +sister-in-law, and waited to see what came of it. + +A thoroughly spiteful woman, thoroughly roused, is capable of +subordinating every other consideration to the one imperative +necessity of gratifying her spite. There was but one way now of +turning the tables on Sir Patrick--and Lady Lundie took it. She +hated him, at that moment, so intensely, that not even the +assertion of her own obstinate will promised her more than a tame +satisfaction, by comparison with the priceless enjoyment of +beating her brother-in-law with his own weapons. + +"My dear Sir Patrick!" she said, with a little silvery laugh, +"you have wasted much precious time and many eloquent words in +trying to entrap me into giving my consent, when you might have +had it for the asking. I think the idea of hastening Blanche's +marriage an excellent one. I am charmed to transfer the charge of +such a person as my step-daughter to the unfortunate young man +who is willing to take her off my hands. The less he sees of +Blanche's character the more satisfied I shall feel of his +performing his engagement to marry her. Pray hurry the lawyers, +Sir Patrick, and let it be a week sooner rather than a week +later, if you wish to please Me." + +Her ladyship rose in her grandest proportions, and made a +courtesy which was nothing less than a triumph of polite satire +in dumb show. Sir Patrick answered by a profound bow and a smile +which said, eloquently, "I believe every word of that charming +answer. Admirable woman--adieu!" + +So the one person in the family circle, whose opposition might +have forced Sir Patrick to submit to a timely delay, was silenced +by adroit management of the vices of her own character. So, in +despite of herself, Lady Lundie was won over to the project for +hurrying the marriage of Arnold and Blanche. + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH. + +STIFLED. + +IT is the nature of Truth to struggle to the light. In more than +one direction, the truth strove to pierce the overlying darkness, +and to reveal itself to view, during the interval between the +date of Sir Patrick's victory and the date of the wedding-day. + +Signs of perturbation under the surface, suggestive of some +hidden influence at work, were not wanting, as the time passed +on. The one thing missing was the prophetic faculty that could +read those signs aright at Windygates House. + +On the very day when Sir Patrick's dextrous treatment of his +sister-in-law had smoothed the way to the hastening of the +marriage, an obstacle was raised to the new arrangement by no +less a person than Blanche herself. She had sufficiently +recovered, toward noon, to be able to receive Arnold in her own +little sitting-room. It proved to be a very brief interview. A +quarter of an hour later, Arnold appeared before Sir +Patrick--while the old gentleman was sunning himself in the +garden--with a face of blank despair. Blanche had indignantly +declined even to think of such a thing as her marriage, at a time +when she was heart-broken by the discovery that Anne had left her +forever. + +"You gave me leave to mention it, Sir Patrick--didn't you?" said +Arnold. + +Sir Patrick shifted round a little, so as to get the sun on his +back, and admitted that he had given leave. + +"If I had only known, I would rather have cut my tongue out than +have said a word about it. What do you think she did? She burst +out crying, and ordered me to leave the room." + +It was a lovely morning--a cool breeze tempered the heat of the +sun; the birds were singing; the garden wore its brightest look. +Sir Patrick was supremely comfortable. The little wearisome +vexations of this mortal life had retired to a respectful +distance from him. He positively declined to invite them to come +any nearer. + +"Here is a world," said the old gentleman, getting the sun a +little more broadly on his back, "which a merciful Creator has +filled with lovely sights, harmonious sounds, delicious scents; +and here are creatures with faculties expressly made for +enjoyment of those sights, sounds, and scents--to say nothing of +Love, Dinner, and Sleep, all thrown into the bargain. And these +same creatures hate, starve, toss sleepless on their pillows, see +nothing pleasant, hear nothing pleasant, smell nothing +pleasant--cry bitter tears, say hard words, contract painful +illnesses; wither, sink, age, die! What does it mean, Arnold? And +how much longer is it all to go on?" + +The fine connecting link between the blindness of Blanche to the +advantage of being married, and the blindness of humanity to the +advantage of being in existence, though sufficiently perceptible +no doubt to venerable Philosophy ripening in the sun, was +absolutely invisible to Arnold. He deliberately dropped the vast +question opened by Sir Patrick; and, reverting to Blanche, asked +what was to be done. + +"What do you do with a fire, when you can't extinguish it?" said +Sir Patrick. "You let it blaze till it goes out. What do you do +with a woman when you can't pacify her? Let _her_ blaze till she +goes out." + +Arnold failed to see the wisdom embodied in that excellent +advice. "I thought you would have helped me to put things right +with Blanche," he said. + +"I _am_ helping you. Let Blanche alone. Don't speak of the +marriage again, the next time you see her. If she mentions it, +beg her pardon, and tell her you won't press the question any +more. I shall see her in an hour or two, and I shall take exactly +the same tone myself. You have put the idea into her mind--leave +it there to ripen. Give her distress about Miss Silvester nothing +to feed on. Don't stimulate it by contradiction; don't rouse it +to defend itself by disparagement of her lost friend. Leave Time +to edge her gently nearer and nearer to the husband who is +waiting for her--and take my word for it, Time will have her +ready when the settlements are ready." + +Toward the luncheon hour Sir Patrick saw Blanche, and put in +practice the principle which he had laid down. She was perfectly +tranquil before her uncle left her. A little later, Arnold was +forgiven. A little later still, the old gentleman's sharp +observation noted that his niece was unusually thoughtful, and +that she looked at Arnold, from time to time, with an interest of +a new kind--an interest which shyly hid itself from Arnold's +view. Sir Patrick went up to dress for dinner, with a comfortable +inner conviction that the difficulties which had beset him were +settled at last. Sir Patrick had never been more mistaken in his +life. + +The business of the toilet was far advanced. Duncan had just +placed the glass in a good light; and Duncan's master was at that +turning point in his daily life which consisted in attaining, or +not attaining, absolute perfection in the tying of his white +cravat--when some outer barbarian, ignorant of the first +principles of dressing a gentleman's throat, presumed to knock at +the bedroom door. Neither master nor servant moved or breathed +until the integrity of the cravat was placed beyond the reach of +accident. Then Sir Patrick cast the look of final criticism + in the glass, and breathed again when he saw that it was done. + +"A little labored in style, Duncan. But not bad, considering the +interruption?" + +"By no means, Sir Patrick." + +"See who it is." + +Duncan went to the door; and returned, to his master, with an +excuse for the interruption, in the shape of a telegram! + +Sir Patrick started at the sight of that unwelcome message. "Sign +the receipt, Duncan," he said--and opened the envelope. Yes! +Exactly as he had anticipated! News of Miss Silvester, on the +very day when he had decided to abandon all further attempt at +discovering her. The telegram ran thus: + +"Message received from Falkirk this morning. Lady, as described, +left the train at Falkirk last night. Went on, by the first train +this morning, to Glasgow. Wait further instructions." + +"Is the messenger to take any thing back, Sir Patrick?" + +"No. I must consider what I am to do. If I find it necessary I +will send to the station. Here is news of Miss Silvester, +Duncan," continued Sir Patrick, when the messenger had gone. "She +has been traced to Glasgow." + +"Glasgow is a large place, Sir Patrick." + +"Yes. Even if they have telegraphed on and had her watched (which +doesn't appear), she may escape us again at Glasgow. I am the +last man in the world, I hope, to shrink from accepting my fair +share of any responsibility. But I own I would have given +something to have kept this telegram out of the house. It raises +the most awkward question I have had to decide on for many a long +day past. Help me on with my coat. I must think of it! I must +think of it!" + +Sir Patrick went down to dinner in no agreeable frame of mind. +The unexpected recovery of the lost trace of Miss +Silvester--there is no disguising it--seriously annoyed him. + +The dinner-party that day, assembling punctually at the stroke of +the bell, had to wait a quarter of an hour before the hostess +came down stairs. + +Lady Lundie's apology, when she entered the library, informed her +guests that she had been detained by some neighbors who had +called at an unusually late hour. Mr. and Mrs. Julius Delamayn, +finding themselves near Windygates, had favored her with a visit, +on their way home, and had left cards of invitation for a +garden-party at their house. + +Lady Lundie was charmed with her new acquaintances. They had +included every body who was staying at Windygates in their +invitation. They had been as pleasant and easy as old friends. +Mrs. Delamayn had brought the kindest message from one of her +guests--Mrs. Glenarm--to say that she remembered meeting Lady +Lundie in London, in the time of the late Sir Thomas, and was +anxious to improve the acquaintance. Mr. Julius Delamayn had +given a most amusing account of his brother. Geoffrey had sent to +London for a trainer; and the whole household was on the tip-toe +of expectation to witness the magnificent spectacle of an athlete +preparing himself for a foot-race. The ladies, with Mrs. Glenarm +at their head, were hard at work, studying the profound and +complicated question of human running--the muscles employed in +it, the preparation required for it, the heroes eminent in it. +The men had been all occupied that morning in assisting Geoffrey +to measure a mile, for his exercising-ground, in a remote part of +the park--where there was an empty cottage, which was to be +fitted with all the necessary appliances for the reception of +Geoffrey and his trainer. "You will see the last of my brother," +Julius had said, "at the garden-party. After that he retires into +athletic privacy, and has but one interest in life--the interest +of watching the disappearance of his own superfluous flesh." +Throughout the dinner Lady Lundie was in oppressively good +spirits, singing the praises of her new friends. Sir Patrick, on +the other hand, had never been so silent within the memory of +mortal man. He talked with an effort; and he listened with a +greater effort still. To answer or not to answer the telegram in +his pocket? To persist or not to persist in his resolution to +leave Miss Silvester to go her own way? Those were the questions +which insisted on coming round to him as regularly as the dishes +themselves came round in the orderly progression of the dinner. + +Blanche---who had not felt equal to taking her place at the +table--appeared in the drawing-room afterward. + +Sir Patrick came in to tea, with the gentlemen, still uncertain +as to the right course to take in the matter of the telegram. One +look at Blanche's sad face and Blanche's altered manner decided +him. What would be the result if he roused new hopes by resuming +the effort to trace Miss Silvester, and if he lost the trace a +second time? He had only to look at his niece and to see. Could +any consideration justify him in turning her mind back on the +memory of the friend who had left her at the moment when it was +just beginning to look forward for relief to the prospect of her +marriage? Nothing could justify him; and nothing should induce +him to do it. + +Reasoning--soundly enough, from his own point of view--on that +basis, Sir Patrick determined on sending no further instructions +to his friend at Edinburgh. That night he warned Duncan to +preserve the strictest silence as to the arrival of the telegram. +He burned it, in case of accidents, with his own hand, in his own +room. + +Rising the next day and looking out of his window, Sir Patrick +saw the two young people taking their morning walk at a moment +when they happened to cross the open grassy space which separated +the two shrubberies at Windygates. Arnold's arm was round +Blanche's waist, and they were talking confidentially with their +heads close together. "She is coming round already!" thought the +old gentleman, as the two disappeared again in the second +shrubbery from view. "Thank Heaven! things are running smoothly +at last!" + +Among the ornaments of Sir Patrick's bed room there was a view +(taken from above) of one of the Highland waterfalls. If he had +looked at the picture when he turned away from his window, he +might have remarked that a river which is running with its utmost +smoothness at one moment may be a river which plunges into its +most violent agitation at another; and he might have remembered, +with certain misgivings, that the progress of a stream of water +has been long since likened, with the universal consent of +humanity, to the progress of the stream of life. + + +FIFTH SCENE.--GLASGOW. + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH. + +ANNE AMONG THE LAWYERS. + + ON the day when Sir Patrick received the second of the two +telegrams sent to him from Edinburgh, four respectable +inhabitants of the City of Glasgow were startled by the +appearance of an object of interest on the monotonous horizon of +their daily lives. + +The persons receiving this wholesome shock were--Mr. and Mrs. +Karnegie of the Sheep's Head Hotel- and Mr. Camp, and Mr. Crum, +attached as "Writers" to the honorable profession of the Law. + +It was still early in the day when a lady arrived, in a cab from +the railway, at the Sheep's Head Hotel. Her luggage consisted of +a black box, and of a well-worn leather bag which she carried in +her hand. The name on the box (recently written on a new luggage +label, as the color of the ink and paper showed) was a very good +name in its way, common to a very great number of ladies, both in +Scotland and England. It was "Mrs. Graham." + +Encountering the landlord at the entrance to the hotel, "Mrs. +Graham" asked to be accommodated with a bedroom, and was +transferred in due course to the chamber-maid on duty at the +time. Returning to the little room behind the bar, in which the +accounts were kept, Mr. Karnegie surprised his wife by moving +more briskly, and looking much brighter than usual. Being +questioned, Mr. Karnegie (who had cast the eye of a landlord on +the black box in the passage) announced that one "Mrs. Graham" +had just arrived, and was then and there to be booked as +inhabiting Room Number Seventeen. Being informed (with +considerable asperity of tone and manner) that this answer failed +to account for the interest which appeared to have been inspired +in him by a total stranger, Mr. Karnegie came to the point, and +confessed that "Mrs. Graham" was one of the sweetest-looking +women he had seen for many a + long day, and that he feared she was very seriously out of +health. + +Upon that reply the eyes of Mrs. Karnegie developed in size, and +the color of Mrs. Karnegie deepened in tint. She got up from her +chair and said that it might be just as well if she personally +superintended the installation of "Mrs. Graham" in her room, and +personally satisfied herself that "Mrs. Graham" was a fit inmate +to be received at the Sheep's Head Hotel. Mr. Karnegie thereupon +did what he always did--he agreed with his wife. + +Mrs. Karnegie was absent for some little time. On her return her +eyes had a certain tigerish cast in them when they rested on Mr. +Karnegie. She ordered tea and some light refreshment to be taken +to Number Seventeen. This done--without any visible provocation +to account for the remark--she turned upon her husband, and said, +"Mr. Karnegie you are a fool." Mr. Karnegie asked, "Why, my +dear?" Mrs. Karnegie snapped her fingers, and said, "_That_ for +her good looks! You don't know a good-looking woman when you see +her." Mr. Karnegie agreed with his wife. + +Nothing more was said until the waiter appeared at the bar with +his tray. Mrs. Karnegie, having first waived the tray off, +without instituting her customary investigation, sat down +suddenly with a thump, and said to her husband (who had not +uttered a word in the interval), "Don't talk to Me about her +being out of health! _That_ for her health! It's trouble on her +mind." Mr. Karnegie said, "Is it now?" Mrs. Karnegie replied, +"When I have said, It is, I consider myself insulted if another +person says, Is it?" Mr. Karnegie agreed with his wife. + +There. was another interval. Mrs. Karnegie added up a bill, with +a face of disgust. Mr. Karnegie looked at her with a face of +wonder. Mrs. Karnegie suddenly asked him why he wasted his looks +on _her,_ when he would have "Mrs. Graham" to look at before +long. Mr. Karnegie, upon that, attempted to compromise the matter +by looking, in the interim, at his own boots. Mrs. Karnegie +wished to know whether after twenty years of married life, she +was considered to be not worth answering by her own husband. +Treated with bare civility (she expected no more), she might have +gone on to explain that "Mrs. Graham" was going out. She might +also have been prevailed on to mention that "Mrs. Graham" had +asked her a very remarkable question of a business nature, at the +interview between them up stairs. As it was, Mrs. Karnegie's lips +were sealed, and let Mr. Karnegie deny if he dared, that he +richly deserved it. Mr. Karnegie agreed with his wife. + +In half an hour more, "Mrs. Graham" came down stairs; and a cab +was sent for. Mr. Karnegie, in fear of the consequences if he did +otherwise, kept in a corner. Mrs. Karnegie followed him into the +corner, and asked him how he dared act in that way? Did he +presume to think, after twenty years of married life, that his +wife was jealous? "Go, you brute, and hand Mrs. Graham into the +cab!" + +Mr. Karnegie obeyed. He asked, at the cab window, to what part of +Glasgow he should tell the driver to go. The reply informed him +that the driver was to take "Mrs. Graham" to the office of Mr. +Camp, the lawyer. Assuming "Mrs. Graham" to be a stranger in +Glasgow, and remembering that Mr. Camp was Mr. Karnegie's lawyer, +the inference appeared to be, that "Mrs. Graham's" remarkable +question, addressed to the landlady, had related to legal +business, and to the discovery of a trust-worthy person capable +of transacting it for her. + +Returning to the bar, Mr. Karnegie found his eldest daughter in +charge of the books, the bills, and the waiters. Mrs. Karnegie +had retired to her own room, justly indignant with her husband +for his infamous conduct in handing "Mrs. Graham" into the cab +before her own eyes. "It's the old story, Pa," remarked Miss +Karnegie, with the most perfect composure. "Ma told you to do it, +of course; and then Ma says you've insulted her before all the +servants. I wonder how you bear it?" Mr. Karnegie looked at his +boots, and answered, "I wonder, too, my dear." Miss Karnegie +said, "You're not going to Ma, are you?" Mr. Karnegie looked up +from his boots, and answered, "I must, my dear." + + + +Mr. Camp sat in his private room, absorbed over his papers. +Multitudinous as those documents were, they appeared to be not +sufficiently numerous to satisfy Mr. Camp. He rang his bell, and +ordered more. + +The clerk appearing with a new pile of papers, appeared also with +a message. A lady, recommended by Mrs. Karnegie, of the Sheep's +Head, wished to consult Mr. Camp professionally. Mr. Camp looked +at his watch, counting out precious time before him, in a little +stand on the table, and said, "Show the lady in, in ten minutes." + +In ten minutes the lady appeared. She took the client's chair and +lifted her veil. The same effect which had been produced on Mr. +Karnegie was once more produced on Mr. Camp. For the first time, +for many a long year past, he felt personally interested in a +total stranger. It might have been something in her eyes, or it +might have been something in her manner. Whatever it was, it took +softly hold of him, and made him, to his own exceeding surprise, +unmistakably anxious to hear what she had to say! + +The lady announced--in a low sweet voice touched with a quiet +sadness--that her business related to a question of marriage (as +marriage is understood by Scottish law), and that her own peace +of mind, and the happiness of a person very dear to her, were +concerned alike in the opinion which Mr. Camp might give when he +had been placed in possession of the facts. + +She then proceeded to state the facts, without mentioning names: +relating in every particular precisely the same succession of +events which Geoffrey Delamayn had already related to Sir Patrick +Lundie--with this one difference, that she acknowledged herself +to be the woman who was personally concerned in knowing whether, +by Scottish law, she was now held to be a married woman or not. + +Mr. Camp's opinion given upon this, after certain questions had +been asked and answered, differed from Sir Patrick's opinion, as +given at Windygates. He too quoted the language used by the +eminent judge--Lord Deas--but he drew an inference of his own +from it. "In Scotland, consent makes marriage," he said; "and +consent may be proved by inference. I see a plain inference of +matrimonial consent in the circumstances which you have related +to me and I say you are a married woman." + +The effect produced on the lady, when sentence was pronounced on +her in those terms, was so distressing that Mr. Camp sent a +message up stairs to his wife; and Mrs. Camp appeared in her +husband's private room, in business hours, for the first time in +her life. When Mrs. Camp's services had in some degree restored +the lady to herself, Mr. Camp followed with a word of +professional comfort. He, like Sir Patrick, acknowledged the +scandalous divergence of opinions produced by the confusion and +uncertainty of the marriage-law of Scotland. He, like Sir +Patrick, declared it to be quite possible that another lawyer +might arrive at another conclusion. "Go," he said, giving her his +card, with a line of writing on it, "to my colleague, Mr. Crum; +and say I sent you." + +The lady gratefully thanked Mr. Camp and his wife, and went next +to the office of Mr. Crum. + +Mr. Crum was the older lawyer of the two, and the harder lawyer +of the two; but he, too, felt the influence which the charm that +there was in this woman exercised, more or less, over every man +who came in contact with her. He listened with a patience which +was rare with him: he put his questions with a gentleness which +was rarer still; and when _he_ was in possession of the +circumstances---behold, _his_ opinion flatly contradicted the +opinion of Mr. Camp! + +"No marriage, ma'am," he said, positively. "Evidence in favor of +perhaps establishing a marriage, if you propose to claim the man. +But that, as I understand it, is exactly what you don't wish to +do." + +The relief to the lady, on hearing this, almost overpowered her. +For some minutes she was unable to speak. Mr. Crum did, what he +had never done yet in all his experience as a lawyer. He patted a +client on the shoulder, and, more extraordinary still , he gave a +client permission to waste his time. "Wait, and compose +yourself," said Mr. Crum--administering the law of humanity. The +lady composed herself. "I must ask you some questions, ma'am," +said Mr. Crum--administering the law of the land. The lady bowed, +and waited for him to begin. + +"I know, thus far, that you decline to claim the gentleman," said +Mr. Cram. "I want to know now whether the gentleman is likely to +claim _you._" + +The answer to this was given in the most positive terms. The +gentleman was not even aware of the position in which he stood. +And, more yet, he was engaged to be married to the dearest friend +whom the lady had in the world. + +Mr. Crum opened his eyes--considered--and put another question as +delicately as he could. "Would it be painful to you to tell me +how the gentleman came to occupy the awkward position in which he +stands now?" + +The lady acknowledged that it would be indescribably painful to +her to answer that question. + +Mr. Crum offered a suggestion under the form of an inquiry: + +"Would it be painful to you to reveal the circumstances--in the +interests of the gentleman's future prospects--to some discreet +person (a legal person would be best) who is not, what I am, a +stranger to you both?" + +The lady declared herself willing to make any sacrifice, on those +conditions--no matter how painful it might be--for her friend's +sake. + +Mr. Crum considered a little longer, and then delivered his word +of advice: + +"At the present stage of the affair," he said, "I need only tell +you what is the first step that you ought to take under the +circumstances. Inform the gentleman at once--either by word of +mouth or by writing--of the position in which he stands: and +authorize him to place the case in the hands of a person known to +you both, who is competent to decide on what you are to do next. +Do I understand that you know of such a person so qualified?" + +The lady answered that she knew of such a person. + +Mr. Crum asked if a day had been fixed for the gentleman's +marriage. + +The lady answered that she had made this inquiry herself on the +last occasion when she had seen the gentleman's betrothed wife. +The marriage was to take place, on a day to be hereafter chosen, +at the end of the autumn. + +"That," said Mr. Crum, "is a fortunate circumstance. You have +time before you. Time is, here, of very great importance. Be +careful not to waste it." + +The lady said she would return to her hotel and write by that +night's post, to warn the gentleman of the position in which he +stood, and to authorize him to refer the matter to a competent +and trust-worthy friend known to them both. + +On rising to leave the room she was seized with giddiness, and +with some sudden pang of pain, which turned her deadly pale and +forced her to drop back into her chair. Mr. Crum had no wife; but +he possessed a housekeeper--and he offered to send for her. The +lady made a sign in the negative. She drank a little water, and +conquered the pain. "I am sorry to have alarmed you," she said. +"It's nothing--I am better now." Mr. Crum gave her his arm, and +put her into the cab. She looked so pale and faint that he +proposed sending his housekeeper with her. No: it was only five +minutes' drive to the hotel. The lady thanked him--and went her +way back by herself. + +"The letter!" she said, when she was alone. "If I can only live +long enough to write the letter!" + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH. + +ANNE IN THE NEWSPAPERS. + +MRS. KARNEGIE was a woman of feeble intelligence and violent +temper; prompt to take offense, and not, for the most part, easy +to appease. But Mrs. Karnegie being--as we all are in our various +degrees--a compound of many opposite qualities, possessed a +character with more than one side to it, and had her human merits +as well as her human faults. Seeds of sound good feeling were +scattered away in the remoter corners of her nature, and only +waited for the fertilizing occasion that was to help them to +spring up. The occasion exerted that benign influence when the +cab brought Mr. Crum's client back to the hotel. The face of the +weary, heart-sick woman, as she slowly crossed the hall, roused +all that was heartiest and best in Mrs. Karnegie's nature, and +said to her, as if in words, "Jealous of this broken creature? +Oh, wife and mother is there no appeal to your common womanhood +_here?_" + +"I am afraid you have overtired yourself, ma'am. Let me send you +something up stairs?" + +"Send me pen, ink, and paper," was the answer. "I must write a +letter. I must do it at once." + +It was useless to remonstrate with her. She was ready to accept +any thing proposed, provided the writing materials were supplied +first. Mrs. Karnegie sent them up, and then compounded a certain +mixture of eggs and hot wine. for which The Sheep's Head was +famous, with her own hands. In five minutes or so it was +ready--and Miss Karnegie was dispatched by her mother (who had +other business on hand at the time) to take it up stairs. + +After the lapse of a few moments a cry of alarm was heard from +the upper landing. Mrs. Karnegie recognized her daughter's voice, +and hastened to the bedroom floor. + +"Oh, mamma! Look at her! look at her!" + +The letter was on the table with the first lines written. The +woman was on the sofa with her handkerchief twisted between her +set teeth, and her tortured face terrible to look at. Mrs. +Karnegie raised her a little, examined her closely--then suddenly +changed color, and sent her daughter out of the room with +directions to dispatch a messenger instantly for medical help. + +Left alone with the sufferer, Mrs. Karnegie carried her to her +bed. As she was laid down her left hand fell helpless over the +side of the bed. Mrs. Karnegie suddenly checked the word of +sympathy as it rose to her lips--suddenly lifted the hand, and +looked, with a momentary sternness of scrutiny, at the third +finger. There was a ring on it. Mrs. Karnegie's face softened on +the instant: the word of pity that had been suspended the moment +before passed her lips freely now. "Poor soul!" said the +respectable landlady, taking appearances for granted. "Where's +your husband, dear? Try and tell me." + +The doctor made his appearance, and went up to the patient. + +Time passed, and Mr. Karnegie and his daughter, carrying on the +business of the hotel, received a message from up stairs which +was ominous of something out of the common. The message gave the +name and address of an experienced nurse--with the doctor's +compliments, and would Mr. Karnegie have the kindness to send for +her immediately. + +The nurse was found and sent up stairs. + +Time went on, and the business of the hotel went on, and it was +getting to be late in the evening, when Mrs. Karnegie appeared at +last in the parlor behind the bar. The landlady's face was grave, +the landlady's manner was subdued. "Very, very ill," was the only +reply she made to her daughter's inquiries. When she and her +husband were together, a little later, she told the news from up +stairs in greater detail. "A child born dead," said Mrs. +Karnegie, in gentler tones than were customary with her. "And the +mother dying, poor thing, so far as _I_ can see." + +A little later the doctor came down. Dead? No.--Likely to live? +Impossible to say. The doctor returned twice in the course of the +night. Both times he had but one answer. "Wait till to-morrow." + +The next day came. She rallied a little. Toward the afternoon she +began to speak. She expressed no surprise at seeing strangers by +her bedside: her mind wandered. She passed again into +insensibility. Then back to delirium once more. The doctor said, +"This may last for weeks. Or it may end suddenly in death. It's +time you did something toward finding her friends." + +(Her friends! She had left the one friend she had forever!) + +Mr. Camp was summoned to give his advice. The first thing he +asked for was the unfinished letter. + +It was blotted, it was illegible in more places than one. With +pains and care they made out the address at the beginning, and +here and there some fragments of the lines that followed. It +began: "Dear Mr. Brinkworth." Then the writing got, little by +little, worse and worse. To the eyes of the strangers who looked +at it, it ran thus: "I should ill re quite * * * Blanche's +interests * * * For God's sake! * * * don't think of _me_ * * *" +There was a little more, but not so much as one word, in those +last lines, was legible + +The names mentioned in the letter were reported by the doctor and +the nurse to be also the names on her lips when she spoke in her +wanderings. "Mr. Brinkworth" and "Blanche"--her mind ran +incessantly on those two persons. The one intelligible thing that +she mentioned in connection with them was the letter. She was +perpetually trying, trying, trying to take that unfinished letter +to the post; and she could never get there. Sometimes the post +was across the sea. Sometimes it was at the top of an +inaccessible mountain. Sometimes it was built in by prodigious +walls all round it. Sometimes a man stopped her cruelly at the +moment when she was close at the post, and forced her back +thousands of miles away from it. She once or twice mentioned this +visionary man by his name. They made it out to be "Geoffrey." + +Finding no clew to her identity either in the letter that she had +tried to write or in the wild words that escaped her from time to +time, it was decided to search her luggage, and to look at the +clothes which she had worn when she arrived at the hotel. + +Her black box sufficiently proclaimed itself as recently +purchased. On opening it the address of a Glasgow trunk-maker was +discovered inside. The linen was also new, and unmarked. The +receipted shop-bill was found with it. The tradesmen, sent for in +each case and questioned, referred to their books. It was proved +that the box and the linen had both been purchased on the day +when she appeared at the hotel. + +Her black bag was opened next. A sum of between eighty and ninety +pounds in Bank of England notes; a few simple articles belonging +to the toilet; materials for needle-work; and a photographic +portrait of a young lady, inscribed, "To Anne, from Blanche," +were found in the bag--but no letters, and nothing whatever that +could afford the slightest clew by which the owner could be +traced. The pocket in her dress was searched next. It contained a +purse, an empty card-case, and a new handkerchief unmarked. + +Mr. Camp shook his head. + +"A woman's luggage without any letters in it," he said, "suggests +to my mind a woman who has a motive of her own for keeping her +movements a secret. I suspect she has destroyed her letters, and +emptied her card-case, with that view." Mrs. Karnegie's report, +after examining the linen which the so-called "Mrs. Graham" had +worn when she arrived at the inn, proved the soundness of the +lawyer's opinion. In every case the marks had been cut out. Mrs. +Karnegie began to doubt whether the ring which she had seen on +the third finger of the lady's left hand had been placed there +with the sanction of the law. + +There was but one chance left of discovering--or rather of +attempting to discover--her friends. Mr. Camp drew out an +advertisement to be inserted in the Glasgow newspapers. If those +newspapers happened to be seen by any member of her family, she +would, in all probability, be claimed. In the contrary event +there would be nothing for it but to wait for her recovery or her +death--with the money belonging to her sealed up, and deposited +in the landlord's strongbox. + +The advertisement appeared. They waited for three days afterward, +and nothing came of it. No change of importance occurred, during +the same period, in the condition of the suffering woman. Mr. +Camp looked in, toward evening, and said, "We have done our best. +There is no help for it but to wait." + + + +Far away in Perthshire that third evening was marked as a joyful +occasion at Windygates House. Blanche had consented at last to +listen to Arnold's entreaties, and had sanctioned the writing of +a letter to London to order her wedding-dress. + + +SIXTH SCENE.--SWANHAVEN LODGE. + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST + +SEEDS OF THE FUTURE (FIRST SOWING). + +"NOT SO large as Windygates. But--shall we say snug, Jones?" + +"And comfortable, Smith. I quite agree with you." + +Such was the judgment pronounced by the two choral gentlemen on +Julius Delamayn's house in Scotland. It was, as usual with Smith +and Jones, a sound judgment--as far as it went. Swanhaven Lodge +was not half the size of Windygates; but it had been inhabited +for two centuries when the foundations of Windygates were first +laid--and it possessed the advantages, without inheriting the +drawbacks, of its age. There is in an old house a friendly +adaptation to the human character, as there is in an old hat a +friendly adaptation to the human head. The visitor who left +Swanhaven quitted it with something like a sense of leaving home. +Among the few houses not our own which take a strong hold on our +sympathies this was one. The ornamental grounds were far inferior +in size and splendor to the grounds at Windygates. But the park +was beautiful--less carefully laid out, but also less monotonous +than an English park. The lake on the northern boundary of the +estate, famous for its breed of swans, was one of the curiosities +of the neighborhood; and the house had a history, associating it +with more than one celebrated Scottish name, which had been +written and illustrated by Julius Delamayn. Visitors to Swanhaven +Lodge were invariably presented with a copy of the volume +(privately printed). One in twenty read it. The rest were +"charmed," and looked at the pictures. + +The day was the last day of August, and the occasion was the +garden-party given by Mr. and Mrs. Delamayn. + +Smith and Jones--following, with the other guests at Windygates, +in Lady Lundie's train--exchanged their opinions on the merits of +the house, standing on a terrace at the back, near a flight of +steps which led down into the garden. They formed the van-guard +of the visitors, appearing by twos and threes from the reception +rooms, and all bent on going to see the swans before the +amusements of the day began. Julius Delamayn came out with the +first detachment, recruited Smith and Jones, and other wandering +bachelors, by the way, and set forth for the lake. An interval of +a minute or two passed--and the terrace remained empty. Then two +ladies--at the head of a second detachment of visitors--appeared +under the old stone porch which sheltered the entrance on that +side of the house. One of the ladies was a modest, pleasant +little person, very simply dressed. The other was of the tall and +formidable type of "fine women," clad in dazzling array. The +first was Mrs. Julius Delamayn. The second was Lady Lundie. + +"Exquisite!" cried her ladyship, surveying the old mullioned +windows of the house, with their framing of creepers, and the +grand stone buttresses projecting at intervals from the wall, +each with its bright little circle of flowers blooming round the +base. "I am really grieved that Sir Patrick should have missed +this." + +"I think you said, Lady Lundie, that Sir Patrick had been called +to Edinburgh by family business?" + +"Business, Mrs. Delamayn, which is any thing but agreeable to me, +as one member of the family. It has altered all my arrangements +for the autumn. My step-daughter is to be married next week." + +"Is it so near as that? May I ask who the gentleman is?" + +"Mr. Arnold Brinkworth." + +"Surely I have some association with that name?" + +"You have probably heard of him, Mrs. Delamayn, as the heir to +Miss Brinkworth's Scotch property?" + +"Exactly! Have you brought Mr. Brinkworth here to-day?" + +"I bring his apologies, as well as Sir Patrick's. They went to +Edinburgh together the day before yesterday. The lawyers engage +to have the settlements ready in three or four days more, if a +personal consultation can be managed. Some formal question, I +believe, connected with title-deeds. Sir Patrick thought the +safest way and the speediest way would be to take Mr. Brinkworth +with him to Edinburgh--to get the business over to-day--and to +wait until we join them, on our way south, to-morrow." + +"You leave Windygates, in this lovely weather?" + +"Most unwillingly! The truth is, Mrs. Delamayn, I am at my +step-daughter's mercy. Her uncle has the authority, as her +guardian--and the use he makes of it is to give her her own way +in every thing. It was only on Friday last that she consented to + let the day be fixed--and even then she made it a positive +condition that the marriage was not to take place in Scotland. +Pure willfulness! But what can I do? Sir Patrick submits; and Mr. +Brinkworth submits. If I am to be present at the marriage I must +follow their example. I feel it my duty to be present--and, as a +matter of course, I sacrifice myself. We start for London +to-morrow." + +"Is Miss Lundie to be married in London at this time of year?" + +"No. We only pass through, on our way to Sir Patrick's place in +Kent--the place that came to him with the title; the place +associated with the last days of my beloved husband. Another +trial for _me!_ The marriage is to be solemnized on the scene of +my bereavement. My old wound is to be reopened on Monday +next--simply because my step-daughter has taken a dislike to +Windygates." + +"This day week, then, is the day of the marriage?" + +"Yes. This day week. There have been reasons for hurrying it +which I need not trouble you with. No words can say how I wish it +was over.--But, my dear Mrs. Delamayn, how thoughtless of me to +assail _ you_ with my family worries! You are so sympathetic. +That is my only excuse. Don't let me keep you from your guests. I +could linger in this sweet place forever! Where is Mrs. Glenarm?" + +"I really don't know. I missed her when we came out on the +terrace. She will very likely join us at the lake. Do you care +about seeing the lake, Lady Lundie?" + +"I adore the beauties of Nature, Mrs. Delamayn--especially +lakes!" + +"We have something to show you besides; we have a breed of swans +on the lake, peculiar to the place. My husband has gone on with +some of our friends; and I believe we are expected to follow, as +soon as the rest of the party--in charge of my sister--have seen +the house." + +"And what a house, Mrs. Delamayn! Historical associations in +every corner of it! It is _such_ a relief to my mind to take +refuge in the past. When I am far away from this sweet place I +shall people Swanhaven with its departed inmates, and share the +joys and sorrows of centuries since." + +As Lady Lundie announced, in these terms, her intention of adding +to the population of the past, the last of the guests who had +been roaming over the old house appeared under the porch. Among +the members forming this final addition to the garden-party were +Blanche, and a friend of her own age whom she had met at +Swanhaven. The two girls lagged behind the rest, talking +confidentially, arm in arm--the subject (it is surely needless to +add) being the coming marriage. + +"But, dearest Blanche, why are you not to be married at +Windygates?" + +"I detest Windygates, Janet. I have the most miserable +associations with the place. Don't ask me what they are! The +effort of my life is not to think of them now. I long to see the +last of Windygates. As for being married there, I have made it a +condition that I am not to be married in Scotland at all." + +"What has poor Scotland done to forfeit your good opinion, my +dear?" + +"Poor Scotland, Janet, is a place where people don't know whether +they are married or not. I have heard all about it from my uncle. +And I know somebody who has been a victim--an innocent victim--to +a Scotch marriage." + +"Absurd, Blanche! You are thinking of runaway matches, and making +Scotland responsible for the difficulties of people who daren't +own the truth!" + +"I am not at all absurd. I am thinking of the dearest friend I +have. If you only knew--" + +"My dear! _I_ am Scotch, remember! You can be married just as +well--I really must insist on that--in Scotland as in England." + +"I hate Scotland!" + +"Blanche!" + +"I never was so unhappy in my life as I have been in Scotland. I +never want to see it again. I am determined to be married in +England--from the dear old house where I used to live when I was +a little girl. My uncle is quite willing. _He_ understands me and +feels for me." + +"Is that as much as to say that _I_ don't understand you and feel +for you? Perhaps I had better relieve you of my company, +Blanche?" + +"If you are going to speak to me in that way, perhaps you had!" + +"Am I to hear my native country run down and not to say a word in +defense of it?" + +"Oh! you Scotch people make such a fuss about your native +country!" + +"_We_ Scotch people! you are of Scotch extraction yourself, and +you ought to be ashamed to talk in that way. I wish you +good-morning!" + +"I wish you a better temper!" + +A minute since the two young ladies had been like twin roses on +one stalk. Now they parted with red cheeks and hostile sentiments +and cutting words. How ardent is the warmth of youth! how +unspeakably delicate the fragility of female friendship! + +The flock of visitors followed Mrs. Delamayn to the shores of the +lake. For a few minutes after the terrace was left a solitude. +Then there appeared under the porch a single gentleman, lounging +out with a flower in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. This +was the strongest man at Swanhaven--otherwise, Geoffrey Delamayn. + +After a moment a lady appeared behind him, walking softly, so as +not to be heard. She was superbly dressed after the newest and +the most costly Parisian design. The brooch on her bosom was a +single diamond of resplendent water and great size. The fan in +her hand was a master-piece of the finest Indian workmanship. She +looked what she was, a person possessed of plenty of superfluous +money, but not additionally blest with plenty of superfluous +intelligence to correspond. This was the childless young widow of +the great ironmaster--otherwise, Mrs. Glenarm. + +The rich woman tapped the strong man coquettishly on the shoulder +with her fan. "Ah! you bad boy!" she said, with a +slightly-labored archness of look and manner. "Have I found you +at last?" + +Geoffrey sauntered on to the terrace--keeping the lady behind him +with a thoroughly savage superiority to all civilized submission +to the sex--and looked at his watch. + +"I said I'd come here when I'd got half an hour to myself," he +mumbled, turning the flower carelessly between his teeth. "I've +got half an hour, and here I am." + +"Did you come for the sake of seeing the visitors, or did you +come for the sake of seeing Me?" + +Geoffrey smiled graciously, and gave the flower another turn in +his teeth. "You. Of course." + +The iron-master's widow took his arm, and looked up at him--as +only a young woman would have dared to look up--with the +searching summer light streaming in its full brilliancy on her +face. + +Reduced to the plain expression of what it is really worth, the +average English idea of beauty in women may be summed up in three +words--youth, health, plumpness. The more spiritual charm of +intelligence and vivacity, the subtler attraction of delicacy of +line and fitness of detail, are little looked for and seldom +appreciated by the mass of men in this island. It is impossible +otherwise to account for the extraordinary blindness of +perception which (to give one instance only) makes nine +Englishmen out of ten who visit France come back declaring that +they have not seen a single pretty Frenchwoman, in or out of +Paris, in the whole country. Our popular type of beauty proclaims +itself, in its fullest material development, at every shop in +which an illustrated periodical is sold. The same fleshy-faced +girl, with the same inane smile, and with no other expression +whatever, appears under every form of illustration, week after +week, and month after month, all the year round. Those who wish +to know what Mrs. Glenarm was like, have only to go out and stop +at any bookseller's or news-vendor's shop, and there they will +see her in the first illustration, with a young woman in it, +which they discover in the window. The one noticeable peculiarity +in Mrs. Glenarm's purely commonplace and purely material beauty, +which would have struck an observant and a cultivated man, was +the curious girlishness of her look and manner. No stranger +speaking to this woman--who had been a wife at twenty, and who +was now a widow at twenty-four--would ever have thought of +addressing her otherwise than as "Miss." + +"Is that the use you make of a flower when I give it to you?" she +said to Geoffrey. "Mumbling it in your teeth, you wretch, as if +you were a horse!" + +"If you come to tha t," returned Geoffrey, "I'm more a horse than +a man. I'm going to run in a race, and the public are betting on +me. Haw! haw! Five to four." + +"Five to four! I believe he thinks of nothing but betting. You +great heavy creature, I can't move you. Don't you see I want to +go like the rest of them to the lake? No! you're not to let go of +my arm! You're to take me." + +"Can't do it. Must be back with Perry in half an hour." + +(Perry was the trainer from London. He had arrived sooner than he +had been expected, and had entered on his functions three days +since.) + +"Don't talk to me about Perry! A little vulgar wretch. Put him +off. You won't? Do you mean to say you are such a brute that you +would rather be with Perry than be with me?" + +"The betting's at five to four, my dear. And the race comes off +in a month from this." + +"Oh! go away to your beloved Perry! I hate you. I hope you'll +lose the race. Stop in your cottage. Pray don't come back to the +house. And--mind this!--don't presume to say 'my dear' to me +again." + +"It ain't presuming half far enough, is it? Wait a bit. Give me +till the race is run--and then I'll presume to marry you." + +"You! You will be as old as Methuselah, if you wait till I am +your wife. I dare say Perry has got a sister. Suppose you ask +him? She would be just the right person for you." + +Geoffrey gave the flower another turn in his teeth, and looked as +if he thought the idea worth considering. + +"All right," he said. "Any thing to be agreeable to you. I'll ask +Perry." + +He turned away, as if he was going to do it at once. Mrs. Glenarm +put out a little hand, ravishingly clothed in a blush-colored +glove, and laid it on the athlete's mighty arm. She pinched those +iron muscles (the pride and glory of England) gently. "What a man +you are!" she said. "I never met with any body like you before!" + +The whole secret of the power that Geoffrey had acquired over her +was in those words. + +They had been together at Swanhaven for little more than ten +days; and in that time he had made the conquest of Mrs. Glenarm. +On the day before the garden-party--in one of the leisure +intervals allowed him by Perry--he had caught her alone, had +taken her by the arm, and had asked her, in so many words, if she +would marry him. Instances on record of women who have been wooed +and won in ten days are--to speak it with all possible +respect--not wanting. But an instance of a woman willing to have +it known still remains to be discovered. The iron-master's widow +exacted a promise of secrecy before the committed herself When +Geoffrey had pledged his word to hold his tongue in public until +she gave him leave to speak, Mrs. Glenarm, without further +hesitation, said Yes--having, be it observed, said No, in the +course of the last two years, to at least half a dozen men who +were Geoffrey's superiors in every conceivable respect, except +personal comeliness and personal strength. + +There is a reason for every thing; and there was a reason for +this. + +However persistently the epicene theorists of modern times may +deny it, it is nevertheless a truth plainly visible in the whole +past history of the sexes that the natural condition of a woman +is to find her master in a man. Look in the face of any woman who +is in no direct way dependent on a man: and, as certainly as you +see the sun in a cloudless sky, you see a woman who is not happy. +The want of a master is their great unknown want; the possession +of a master is--unconsciously to themselves--the only possible +completion of their lives. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred +this one primitive instinct is at the bottom of the otherwise +inexplicable sacrifice, when we see a woman, of her own free +will, throw herself away on a man who is unworthy of her. This +one primitive instinct was at the bottom of the otherwise +inexplicable facility of self-surrender exhibited by Mrs. +Glenarm. + +Up to the time of her meeting with Geoffrey, the young widow had +gathered but one experience in her intercourse with the +world--the experience of a chartered tyrant. In the brief six +months of her married life with the man whose grand-daughter she +might have been--and ought to have been--she had only to lift her +finger to be obeyed. The doting old husband was the willing slave +of the petulant young wife's slightest caprice. At a later +period, when society offered its triple welcome to her birth, her +beauty, and her wealth--go where she might, she found herself the +object of the same prostrate admiration among the suitors who +vied with each other in the rivalry for her hand. For the first +time in her life she encountered a man with a will of his own +when she met Geoffrey Delamayn at Swanhaven Lodge. + +Geoffrey's occupation of the moment especially favored the +conflict between the woman's assertion of her influence and the +man's assertion of his will. + +During the days that had intervened between his return to his +brother's house and the arrival of the trainer, Geoffrey had +submitted himself to all needful preliminaries of the physical +discipline which was to prepare him for the race. He knew, by +previous experience, what exercise he ought to take, what hours +he ought to keep, what temptations at the table he was bound to +resist. Over and over again Mrs. Glenarm tried to lure him into +committing infractions of his own discipline--and over and over +again the influence with men which had never failed her before +failed her now. Nothing she could say, nothing she could do, +would move _this_ man. Perry arrived; and Geoffrey's defiance of +every attempted exercise of the charming feminine tyranny, to +which every one else had bowed, grew more outrageous and more +immovable than ever. Mrs. Glenarm became as jealous of Perry as +if Perry had been a woman. She flew into passions; she burst into +tears; she flirted with other men; she threatened to leave the +house. All quite useless! Geoffrey never once missed an +appointment with Perry; never once touched any thing to eat or +drink that she could offer him, if Perry had forbidden it. No +other human pursuit is so hostile to the influence of the sex as +the pursuit of athletic sports. No men are so entirely beyond the +reach of women as the men whose lives are passed in the +cultivation of their own physical strength. Geoffrey resisted +Mrs. Glenarm without the slightest effort. He casually extorted +her admiration, and undesignedly forced her respect. She clung to +him, as a hero; she recoiled from him, as a brute; she struggled +with him, submitted to him, despised him, adored him, in a +breath. And the clew to it all, confused and contradictory as it +seemed, lay in one simple fact--Mrs. Glenarm had found her +master. + +"Take me to the lake, Geoffrey!" she said, with a little pleading +pressure of the blush-colored hand. + +Geoffrey looked at his watch. "Perry expects me in twenty +minutes," he said. + +"Perry again!" + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Glenarm raised her fan, in a sudden outburst of fury, and +broke it with one smart blow on Geoffrey's face. + +"There!" she cried, with a stamp of her foot. "My poor fan +broken! You monster, all through you!" + +Geoffrey coolly took the broken fan and put it in his pocket. +"I'll write to London," he said, "and get you another. Come +along! Kiss, and make it up." + +He looked over each shoulder, to make sure that they were alone +then lifted her off the ground (she was no light weight), held +her up in the air like a baby, and gave her a rough loud-sounding +kiss on each cheek. "With kind compliments from yours truly!" he +said--and burst out laughing, and put her down again. + +"How dare you do that?" cried Mrs. Glenarm. "I shall claim Mrs. +Delamayn's protection if I am to be insulted in this way! I will +never forgive you, Sir!" As she said those indignant words she +shot a look at him which flatly contradicted them. The next +moment she was leaning on his arm, and was looking at him +wonderingly, for the thousandth time, as an entire novelty in her +experience of male human kind. "How rough you are, Geoffrey!" she +said, softly. He smiled in recognition of that artless homage to +the manly virtue of his character. She saw the smile, and +instantly made another effort to dispute the hateful supremacy of +Perry. "Put him off!" whispere d the daughter of Eve, determined +to lure Adam into taking a bite of the apple. "Come, Geoffrey, +dear, never mind Perry, this once. Take me to the lake!" + +Geoffrey looked at his watch. "Perry expects me in a quarter of +an hour," he said. + +Mrs. Glenarm's indignation assumed a new form. She burst out +crying. Geoffrey surveyed her for a moment with a broad stare of +surprise--and then took her by both arms, and shook her! + +"Look here!" he said, impatiently. "Can you coach me through my +training?" + +"I would if I could!" + +"That's nothing to do with it! Can you turn me out, fit, on the +day of the race? Yes? or No?" + +"No." + +"Then dry your eyes and let Perry do it." + +Mrs. Glenarm dried her eyes, and made another effort. + +"I'm not fit to be seen," she said. "I'm so agitated, I don't +know what to do. Come indoors, Geoffrey--and have a cup of tea." + +Geoffrey shook his head. "Perry forbids tea," he said, "in the +middle of the day." + +"You brute!" cried Mrs. Glenarm. + +"Do you want me to lose the race?" retorted Geoffrey. + +"Yes!" + +With that answer she left him at last, and ran back into the +house. + +Geoffrey took a turn on the terrace--considered a +little--stopped--and looked at the porch under which the irate +widow had disappeared from his view. "Ten thousand a year," he +said, thinking of the matrimonial prospect which he was placing +in peril. "And devilish well earned," he added, going into the +house, under protest, to appease Mrs. Glenarm. + +The offended lady was on a sofa, in the solitary drawing-room. +Geoffrey sat down by her. She declined to look at him. "Don't be +a fool!" said Geoffrey, in his most persuasive manner. Mrs. +Glenarm put her handkerchief to her eyes. Geoffrey took it away +again without ceremony. Mrs. Glenarm rose to leave the room. +Geoffrey stopped her by main force. Mrs. Glenarm threatened to +summon the servants. Geoffrey said, "All right! I don't care if +the whole house knows I'm fond of you!" Mrs. Glenarm looked at +the door, and whispered "Hush! for Heaven's sake!" Geoffrey put +her arm in his, and said, "Come along with me: I've got something +to say to you." Mrs. Glenarm drew back, and shook her head. +Geoffrey put his arm round her waist, and walked her out of the +room, and out of the house--taking the direction, not of the +terrace, but of a fir plantation on the opposite side of the +grounds. Arrived among the trees, he stopped and held up a +warning forefinger before the offended lady's face. "You're just +the sort of woman I like," he said; "and there ain't a man living +who's half as sweet on you as I am. You leave off bullying me +about Perry, and I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll let you see me +take a Sprint." + +He drew back a step, and fixed his big blue eyes on her, with a +look which said, "You are a highly-favored woman, if ever there +was one yet!" Curiosity instantly took the leading place among +the emotions of Mrs. Glenarm. "What's a Sprint, Geoffrey?" she +asked. + +"A short run, to try me at the top of my speed. There ain't +another living soul in all England that I'd let see it but you. +_Now_ am I a brute?" + +Mrs. Glenarm was conquered again, for the hundredth time at +least. She said, softly, "Oh, Geoffrey, if you could only be +always like this!" Her eyes lifted themselves admiringly to his. +She took his arm again of her own accord, and pressed it with a +loving clasp. Geoffrey prophetically felt the ten thousand a year +in his pocket. "Do you really love me?" whispered Mrs. Glenarm. +"Don't I!" answered the hero. The peace was made, and the two +walked on again. + +They passed through the plantation, and came out on some open +ground, rising and falling prettily, in little hillocks and +hollows. The last of the hillocks sloped down into a smooth level +plain, with a fringe of sheltering trees on its farther +side--with a snug little stone cottage among the trees--and with +a smart little man, walking up and down before the cottage, +holding his hands behind him. The level plain was the hero's +exercising ground; the cottage was the hero's retreat; and the +smart little man was the hero's trainer. + +If Mrs. Glenarm hated Perry, Perry (judging by appearances) was +in no danger of loving Mrs. Glenarm. As Geoffrey approached with +his companion, the trainer came to a stand-still, and stared +silently at the lady. The lady, on her side, declined to observe +that any such person as the trainer was then in existence, and +present in bodily form on the scene. + +"How about time?" said Geoffrey. + +Perry consulted an elaborate watch, constructed to mark time to +the fifth of a second, and answered Geoffrey, with his eye all +the while on Mrs. Glenarm. + +"You've got five minutes to spare." + +"Show me where you run, I'm dying to see it!" said the eager +widow, taking possession of Geoffrey's arm with both hands. + +Geoffrey led her back to a place (marked by a sapling with a +little flag attached to it) at some short distance from the +cottage. She glided along by his side, with subtle undulations of +movement which appeared to complete the exasperation of Perry. He +waited until she was out of hearing--and then he invoked (let us +say) the blasts of heaven on the fashionably-dressed head of Mrs. +Glenarm. + +"You take your place there," said Geoffrey, posting her by the +sapling. "When I pass you--" He stopped, and surveyed her with a +good-humored masculine pity. "How the devil am I to make you +understand it?" he went on. "Look here! when I pass you, it will +be at what you would call (if I was a horse) full gallop. Hold +your tongue--I haven't done yet. You're to look on after me as I +leave you, to where the edge of the cottage wall cuts the trees. +When you have lost sight of me behind the wall, you'll have seen +me run my three hundred yards from this flag. You're in luck's +way! Perry tries me at the long Sprint to-day. You understand +you're to stop here? Very well then--let me go and get my toggery +on." + +"Sha'n't I see you again, Geoffrey?" + +"Haven't I just told you that you'll see me run?" + +"Yes--but after that?" + +"After that, I'm sponged and rubbed down--and rest in the +cottage." + +"You'll come to us this evening?" + +He nodded, and left her. The face of Perry looked unutterable +things when he and Geoffrey met at the door of the cottage. + +"I've got a question to ask you, Mr. Delamayn," said the trainer. +"Do you want me? or don't you?" + +"Of course I want you." + +"What did I say when I first come here?" proceeded Perry, +sternly. "I said, 'I won't have nobody a looking on at a man I'm +training. These here ladies and gentlemen may all have made up +their minds to see you. I've made up my mind not to have no +lookers-on. I won't have you timed at your work by nobody but me. +I won't have every blessed yard of ground you cover put in the +noospapers. I won't have a living soul in the secret of what you +can do, and what you can't, except our two selves.'--Did I say +that, Mr. Delamayn? or didn't I?" + +"All right!" + +"Did I say it? or didn't I?" + +"Of course you did!" + +"Then don't you bring no more women here. It's clean against +rules. And I won't have it." + +Any other living creature adopting this tone of remonstrance +would probably have had reason to repent it. But Geoffrey himself +was afraid to show his temper in the presence of Perry. In view +of the coming race, the first and foremost of British trainers +was not to be trifled with, even by the first and foremost of +British athletes. + +"She won't come again," said Geoffrey. "She's going away from +Swanhaven in two days' time." + +"I've put every shilling I'm worth in the world on you," pursued +Perry, relapsing into tenderness. "And I tell you I felt it! It +cut me to the heart when I see you coming along with a woman at +your heels. It's a fraud on his backers, I says to myself--that's +what it is, a fraud on his backers!" + +"Shut up!" said Geoffrey. "And come and help me to win your +money." He kicked open the door of the cottage--and athlete and +trainer disappeared from view. + +After waiting a few minutes by the little flag, Mrs. Glenarm saw +the two men approaching her from the cottage. Dressed in a +close-fitting costume, light and elastic, adapting itself to +every movement, and made to answer every purpose required by the +exercise in which he was abo ut to engage, Geoffrey's physical +advantages showed themselves in their best and bravest aspect. +His head sat proud and easy on his firm, white throat, bared to +the air. The rising of his mighty chest, as he drew in deep +draughts of the fragrant summer breeze; the play of his lithe and +supple loins; the easy, elastic stride of his straight and +shapely legs, presented a triumph of physical manhood in its +highest type. Mrs. Glenarm's eyes devoured him in silent +admiration. He looked like a young god of mythology--like a +statue animated with color and life. "Oh, Geoffrey!" she +exclaimed, softly, as he went by. He neither answered, nor +looked: he had other business on hand than listening to soft +nonsense. He was gathering himself up for the effort; his lips +were set; his fists were lightly clenched. Perry posted himself +at his place, grim and silent, with the watch in his hand. +Geoffrey walked on beyond the flag, so as to give himself start +enough to reach his full speed as he passed it. "Now then!" said +Perry. In an instant more, he flew by (to Mrs. Glenarm's excited +imagination) like an arrow from a bow. His action was perfect. +His speed, at its utmost rate of exertion, preserved its rare +underlying elements of strength and steadiness. Less and less and +less he grew to the eyes that followed his course; still lightly +flying over the ground, still firmly keeping the straight line. A +moment more, and the runner vanished behind the wall of the +cottage, and the stop-watch of the trainer returned to its place +in his pocket. + +In her eagerness to know the result, Mrs. Glenarm forget her +jealousy of Perry. + +"How long has he been?" she asked. + +"There's a good many besides you would be glad to know that," +said Perry. + +"Mr. Delamayn will tell me, you rude man!" + +"That depends, ma'am, on whether _I_ tell _him._" + +With this reply, Perry hurried back to the cottage. + +Not a word passed while the trainer was attending to his man, and +while the man was recovering his breath. When Geoffrey had been +carefully rubbed down, and clothed again in his ordinary +garments, Perry pulled a comfortable easy-chair out of a corner. +Geoffrey fell into the chair, rather than sat down in it. Perry +started, and looked at him attentively. + +"Well?" said Geoffrey. "How about the time? Long? short? or +middling?" + +"Very good time," said Perry. + +"How long?" + +"When did you say the lady was going, Mr. Delamayn?" + +"In two days." + +"Very well, Sir. I'll tell you 'how long' when the lady's gone." + +Geoffrey made no attempt to insist on an immediate reply. He +smiled faintly. After an interval of less than ten minutes he +stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. + +"Going to sleep?" said Perry. + +Geoffrey opened his eyes with an effort. "No," he said. The word +had hardly passed his lips before his eyes closed again. + +"Hullo!" said Perry, watching him. "I don't like that." + +He went closer to the chair. There was no doubt about it. The man +was asleep. + +Perry emitted a long whistle under his breath. He stooped and +laid two of his fingers softly on Geoffrey's pulse. The beat was +slow, heavy, and labored. It was unmistakably the pulse of an +exhausted man. + +The trainer changed color, and took a turn in the room. He opened +a cupboard, and produced from it his diary of the preceding year. +The entries relating to the last occasion on which he had +prepared Geoffrey for a foot-race included the fullest details. +He turned to the report of the first trial, at three hundred +yards, full speed. The time was, by one or two seconds, not so +good as the time on this occasion. But the result, afterward, was +utterly different. There it was, in Perry's own words: "Pulse +good. Man in high spirits. Ready, if I would have let him, to run +it over again." + +Perry looked round at the same man, a year afterward--utterly +worn out, and fast asleep in the chair. + +He fetched pen, ink, and paper out of the cupboard, and wrote two +letters--both marked "Private." The first was to a medical man, a +great authority among trainers. The second was to Perry's own +agent in London, whom he knew he could trust. The letter pledged +the agent to the strictest secrecy, and directed him to back +Geoffrey's opponent in the Foot-Race for a sum equal to the sum +which Perry had betted on Geoffrey himself. "If you have got any +money of your own on him," the letter concluded, "do as I do. +'Hedge'--and hold your tongue." + +"Another of 'em gone stale!" said the trainer, looking round +again at the sleeping man. "He'll lose the race." + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND. + +SEEDS OF THE FUTURE (SECOND SOWING). + +AND what did the visitors say of the Swans? + +They said, "Oh, what a number of them!"--which was all that was +to be said by persons ignorant of the natural history of aquatic +birds. + +And what did the visitors say of the lake? + +Some of them said, "How solemn!" Some of them said, "How +romantic!" Some of them said nothing--but privately thought it a +dismal scene. + +Here again the popular sentiment struck the right note at +starting. The lake was hidden in the centre of a fir wood. Except +in the middle, where the sunlight reached them, the waters lay +black under the sombre shadow of the trees. The one break in the +plantation was at the farther end of the lake. The one sign of +movement and life to be seen was the ghostly gliding of the swans +on the dead-still surface of the water. It was solemn--as they +said; it was romantic--as they said. It was dismal--as they +thought. Pages of description could express no more. Let pages of +description be absent, therefore, in this place. + +Having satiated itself with the swans, having exhausted the lake, +the general curiosity reverted to the break in the trees at the +farther end--remarked a startlingly artificial object, intruding +itself on the scene, in the shape of a large red curtain, which +hung between two of the tallest firs, and closed the prospect +beyond from view--requested an explanation of the curtain from +Julius Delamayn--and received for answer that the mystery should +be revealed on the arrival of his wife with the tardy remainder +of the guests who had loitered about the house. + +On the appearance of Mrs. Delamayn and the stragglers, the united +party coasted the shore of the lake, and stood assembled in front +of the curtain. Pointing to the silken cords hanging at either +side of it, Julius Delamayn picked out two little girls (children +of his wife's sister), and sent them to the cords, with +instructions to pull, and see what happened. The nieces of Julius +pulled with the eager hands of children in the presence of a +mystery--the curtains parted in the middle, and a cry of +universal astonishment and delight saluted the scene revealed to +view. + +At the end of a broad avenue of firs a cool green glade spread +its grassy carpet in the midst of the surrounding plantation. The +ground at the farther end of the glade rose; and here, on the +lower slopes, a bright little spring of water bubbled out between +gray old granite rocks. + +Along the right-hand edge of the turf ran a row of tables, +arrayed in spotless white, and covered with refreshments waiting +for the guests. On the opposite side was a band of music, which +burst into harmony at the moment when the curtains were drawn. +Looking back through the avenue, the eye caught a distant glimpse +of the lake, where the sunlight played on the water, and the +plumage of the gliding swans flashed softly in brilliant white. +Such was the charming surprise which Julius Delamayn had arranged +for his friends. It was only at moments like these--or when he +and his wife were playing Sonatas in the modest little music-room +at Swanhaven--that Lord Holchester's eldest son was really happy. +He secretly groaned over the duties which his position as a +landed gentleman imposed upon him; and he suffered under some of +the highest privileges of his rank and station as under social +martyrdom in its cruelest form. + +"We'll dine first," said Julius, "and dance afterward. There is +the programme!" + +He led the way to the tables, with the two ladies nearest to +him--utterly careless whether they were or were not among the +ladies of the highest rank then present. To Lady Lundie's +astonishment he took the first seat + he came to, without appearing to care what place he occupied at +his own feast. The guests, following his example, sat where they +pleased, reckless of precedents and dignities. Mrs. Delamayn, +feeling a special interest in a young lady who was shortly to be +a bride, took Blanche's arm. Lady Lundie attached herself +resolutely to her hostess on the other side. The three sat +together. Mrs. Delamayn did her best to encourage Blanche to +talk, and Blanche did her best to meet the advances made to her. +The experiment succeeded but poorly on either side. Mrs. Delamayn +gave it up in despair, and turned to Lady Lundie, with a strong +suspicion that some unpleasant subject of reflection was preying +privately on the bride's mind. The conclusion was soundly drawn. +Blanche's little outbreak of temper with her friend on the +terrace, and Blanche's present deficiency of gayety and spirit, +were attributable to the same cause. She hid it from her uncle, +she hid it from Arnold--but she was as anxious as ever, and as +wretched as ever, about Anne; and she was still on the watch (no +matter what Sir Patrick might say or do) to seize the first +opportunity of renewing the search for her lost friend. + +Meanwhile the eating, the drinking, and the talking went merrily +on. The band played its liveliest melodies; the servants kept the +glasses constantly filled: round all the tables gayety and +freedom reigned supreme. The one conversation in progress, in +which the talkers were not in social harmony with each other, was +the conversation at Blanche's side, between her step-mother and +Mrs. Delamayn. + +Among Lady Lundie's other accomplishments the power of making +disagreeable discoveries ranked high. At the dinner in the glade +she had not failed to notice--what every body else had passed +over--the absence at the festival of the hostess's +brother-in-law; and more remarkable still, the disappearance of a +lady who was actually one of the guests staying in the house: in +plainer words, the disappearance of Mrs. Glenarm. + +"Am I mistaken?" said her ladyship, lifting her eye-glass, and +looking round the tables. "Surely there is a member of our party +missing? I don't see Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn." + +"Geoffrey promised to be here. But he is not particularly +attentive, as you may have noticed, to keeping engagements of +this sort. Every thing is sacrificed to his training. We only see +him at rare intervals now." + +With that reply Mrs. Delamayn attempted to change the subject. +Lady Lundie lifted her eye-glass, and looked round the tables for +the second time. + +"Pardon me," persisted her ladyship--"but is it possible that I +have discovered another absentee? I don't see Mrs. Glenarm. Yet +surely she must be here! Mrs. Glenarm is not training for a +foot-race. Do you see her? _I_ don't." + +"I missed her when we went out on the terrace, and I have not +seen her since." + +"Isn't it very odd, dear Mrs. Delamayn?" + +"Our guests at Swanhaven, Lady Lundie, have perfect liberty to do +as they please." + +In those words Mrs. Delamayn (as she fondly imagined) dismissed +the subject. But Lady Lundie's robust curiosity proved +unassailable by even the broadest hint. Carried away, in all +probability, by the infection of merriment about her, her +ladyship displayed unexpected reserves of vivacity. The mind +declines to realize it; but it is not the less true that this +majestic woman actually simpered! + +"Shall we put two and two together?" said Lady Lundie, with a +ponderous playfulness wonderful to see. "Here, on the one hand, +is Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn--a young single man. And here, on the +other, is Mrs. Glenarm--a young widow. Rank on the side of the +young single man; riches on the side of the young widow. And both +mysteriously absent at the same time, from the same pleasant +party. Ha, Mrs. Delamayn! should I guess wrong, if I guessed that +_you_ will have a marriage in the family, too, before long?" + +Mrs. Delamayn looked a little annoyed. She had entered, with all +her heart, into the conspiracy for making a match between +Geoffrey and Mrs. Glenarm. But she was not prepared to own that +the lady's facility had (in spite of all attempts to conceal it +from discovery) made the conspiracy obviously successful in ten +days' time. + +"I am not in the secrets of the lady and gentleman whom you +mention," she replied, dryly. + +A heavy body is slow to acquire movement--and slow to abandon +movement, when once acquired. The playfulness of Lady Lundie, +being essentially heavy, followed the same rule. She still +persisted in being as lively as ever. + +"Oh, what a diplomatic answer!" exclaimed her ladyship. "I think +I can interpret it, though, for all that. A little bird tells me +that I shall see a Mrs. Geoffrey Delamayn in London, next season. +And I, for one, shall not be surprised to find myself +congratulating Mrs. Glenarm." + +"If you persist in letting your imagination run away with you, +Lady Lundie, I can't possibly help it. I can only request +permission to keep the bridle on _mine._" + +This time, even Lady Lundie understood that it would be wise to +say no more. She smiled and nodded, in high private approval of +her own extraordinary cleverness. If she had been asked at that +moment who was the most brilliant Englishwoman living, she would +have looked inward on herself--and would have seen, as in a glass +brightly, Lady Lundie, of Windygates. + +From the moment when the talk at her side entered on the subject +of Geoffrey Delamayn and Mrs. Glenarm--and throughout the brief +period during which it remained occupied with that topic--Blanche +became conscious of a strong smell of some spirituous liquor +wafted down on her, as she fancied, from behind and from above. +Finding the odor grow stronger and stronger, she looked round to +see whether any special manufacture of grog was proceeding +inexplicably at the back of her chair. The moment she moved her +head, her attention was claimed by a pair of tremulous gouty old +hands, offering her a grouse pie, profusely sprinkled with +truffles. + +"Eh, my bonny Miss!" whispered a persuasive voice at her ear, +"ye're joost stairving in a land o' plenty. Tak' my advice, and +ye'll tak' the best thing at tebble--groose-poy, and trufflers." + +Blanche looked up. + +There he was--the man of the canny eye, the fatherly manner, and +the mighty nose--Bishopriggs--preserved in spirits and +ministering at the festival at Swanhaven Lodge! + +Blanche had only seen him for a moment on the memorable night of +the storm, when she had surprised Anne at the inn. But instants +passed in the society of Bishopriggs were as good as hours spent +in the company of inferior men. Blanche instantly recognized him; +instantly called to mind Sir Patrick's conviction that he was in +possession of Anne's lost letter; instantly rushed to the +conclusion that, in discovering Bishopriggs, she had discovered a +chance of tracing Anne. Her first impulse was to claim +acquaintance with him on the spot. But the eyes of her neighbors +were on her, warning her to wait. She took a little of the pie, +and looked hard at Bishopriggs. That discreet man, showing no +sign of recognition on his side, bowed respectfully, and went on +round the table. + +"I wonder whether he has got the letter about him?" thought +Blanche. + +He had not only got the letter about him--but, more than that, he +was actually then on the look-out for the means of turning the +letter to profitable pecuniary account. + +The domestic establishment of Swanhaven Lodge included no +formidable array of servants. When Mrs. Delamayn gave a large +party, she depended for such additional assistance as was needed +partly on the contributions of her friends, partly on the +resources of the principal inn at Kirkandrew. Mr. Bishopriggs, +serving at the time (in the absence of any better employment) as +a supernumerary at the inn, made one among the waiters who could +be spared to assist at the garden-party. The name of the +gentleman by whom he was to be employed for the day had struck +him, when he first heard it, as having a familiar sound. He had +made his inquiries; and had then betaken himself for additional +information, to the letter which he had picked up from the parlor +floor at Craig Fernie + +The sheet of note-paper, lost by Anne, conta ined, it may be +remembered, two letters--one signed by herself; the other signed +by Geoffrey--and both suggestive, to a stranger's eye, of +relations between the writers which they were interested in +concealing from the public view. + +Thinking it just possible--if he kept his eyes and ears well open +at Swanhaven--that he might improve his prospect of making a +marketable commodity of the stolen correspondence, Mr. +Bishopriggs had put the letter in his pocket when he left +Kirkandrew. He had recognized Blanche, as a friend of the lady at +the inn--and as a person who might perhaps be turned to account, +in that capacity. And he had, moreover, heard every word of the +conversation between Lady Lundie and Mrs. Delamayn on the subject +of Geoffrey and Mrs. Glenarm. There were hours to be passed +before the guests would retire, and before the waiters would be +dismissed. The conviction was strong in the mind of Mr. +Bishopriggs that he might find good reason yet for congratulating +himself on the chance which had associated him with the +festivities at Swanhaven Lodge. + +It was still early in the afternoon when the gayety at the +dinner-table began, in certain quarters, to show signs of wearing +out. + +The younger members of the party--especially the ladies--grew +restless with the appearance of the dessert. One after another +they looked longingly at the smooth level of elastic turf in the +middle of the glade. One after another they beat time absently +with their fingers to the waltz which the musicians happened to +be playing at the moment. Noticing these symptoms, Mrs. Delamayn +set the example of rising; and her husband sent a message to the +band. In ten minutes more the first quadrille was in progress on +the grass; the spectators were picturesquely grouped round, +looking on; and the servants and waiters, no longer wanted, had +retired out of sight, to a picnic of their own. + +The last person to leave the deserted tables was the venerable +Bishopriggs. He alone, of the men in attendance, had contrived to +combine a sufficient appearance of waiting on the company with a +clandestine attention to his own personal need of refreshment. +Instead of hurrying away to the servants' dinner with the rest, +he made the round of the tables, apparently clearing away the +crumbs--actually, emptying the wine-glasses. Immersed in this +occupation, he was startled by a lady's voice behind him, and, +turning as quickly as he could, found himself face to face with +Miss Lundie. + +"I want some cold water," said Blanche. "Be so good as to get me +some from the spring." + +She pointed to the bubbling rivulet at the farther end of the +glade. + +Bishopriggs looked unaffectedly shocked. + +"Lord's sake, miss," he exclaimed "d'ye relly mean to offend yer +stomach wi' cauld water--when there's wine to be had for the +asking!" + +Blanche gave him a look. Slowness of perception was not on the +list of the failings of Bishopriggs. He took up a tumbler, winked +with his one available eye, and led the way to the rivulet. There +was nothing remarkable in the spectacle of a young lady who +wanted a glass of spring-water, or of a waiter who was getting it +for her. Nobody was surprised; and (with the band playing) nobody +could by any chance overhear what might be said at the +spring-side. + +"Do you remember me at the inn on the night of the storm?" asked +Blanche. + +Mr. Bishopriggs had his reasons (carefully inclosed in his +pocketbook) for not being too ready to commit himself with +Blanche at starting. + +"I'm no' saying I canna remember ye, miss. Whar's the man would +mak' sic an answer as that to a bonny young leddy like you?" + +By way of assisting his memory Blanche took out her purse. +Bishopriggs became absorbed in the scenery. He looked at the +running water with the eye of a man who thoroughly distrusted it, +viewed as a beverage. + +"There ye go," he said, addressing himself to the rivulet, +"bubblin' to yer ain annihilation in the loch yonder! It's little +I know that's gude aboot ye, in yer unconvairted state. Ye're a +type o' human life, they say. I tak' up my testimony against +_that._ Ye're a type o' naething at all till ye're heated wi' +fire, and sweetened wi' sugar, and strengthened wi' whusky; and +then ye're a type o' toddy--and human life (I grant it) has got +something to say to ye in that capacity!" + +"I have heard more about you, since I was at the inn," proceeded +Blanche, "than you may suppose." (She opened her purse: Mr. +Bishopriggs became the picture of attention.) "You were very, +very kind to a lady who was staying at Craig Fernie," she went +on, earnestly. "I know that you have lost your place at the inn, +because you gave all your attention to that lady. She is my +dearest friend, Mr. Bishopriggs. I want to thank you. I do thank +you. Please accept what I have got here?" + +All the girl's heart was in her eyes and in her voice as she +emptied her purse into the gouty (and greedy) old hand of +Bishopriggs. + +A young lady with a well-filled purse (no matter how rich the +young lady may be) is a combination not often witnessed in any +country on the civilized earth. Either the money is always spent, +or the money has been forgotten on the toilet-table at home. +Blanche's purse contained a sovereign and some six or seven +shillings in silver. As pocket-money for an heiress it was +contemptible. But as a gratuity to Bishopriggs it was +magnificent. The old rascal put the money into his pocket with +one hand, and dashed away the tears of sensibility, which he had +_not_ shed, with the other. + +"Cast yer bread on the waters," cried Mr. Bishopriggs, with his +one eye raised devotionally to the sky, "and ye sall find it +again after monny days! Heeh! hech! didna I say when I first set +eyes on that puir leddy, 'I feel like a fether to ye?' It's +seemply mairvelous to see hoo a man's ain gude deeds find him oot +in this lower warld o' ours. If ever I heard the voice o' +naitural affection speaking in my ain breast," pursued Mr. +Bishopriggs, with his eye fixed in uneasy expectation on Blanche, +"it joost spak' trumpet-tongued when that winsome creature first +lookit at me. Will it be she now that told ye of the wee bit +sairvice I rendered to her in the time when I was in bondage at +the hottle?" + +"Yes--she told me herself." + +"Might I mak' sae bauld as to ask whar' she may be at the present +time?" + +"I don't know, Mr. Bishopriggs. I am more miserable about it than +I can say. She has gone away--and I don't know where." + +"Ow! ow! that's bad. And the bit husband-creature danglin' at her +petticoat's tail one day, and awa' wi' the sunrise next +mornin'--have they baith taken leg-bail together?" + +"I know nothing of him; I never saw him. You saw him. Tell +me--what was he like?" + +"Eh! he was joost a puir weak creature. Didn't know a glass o' +good sherry-wine when he'd got it. Free wi' the siller--that's a' +ye can say for him--free wi' the siller!" + +Finding it impossible to extract from Mr. Bishopriggs any clearer +description of the man who had been with Anne at the inn than +this, Blanche approached the main object of the interview. Too +anxious to waste time in circumlocution, she turned the +conversation at once to the delicate and doubtful subject of the +lost letter. + +"There is something else that I want to say to you," she resumed. +"My friend had a loss while she was staying at the inn." + +The clouds of doubt rolled off the mind of Mr. Bishopriggs. The +lady's friend knew of the lost letter. And, better still, the +lady's friend looked as if she wanted it! + +"Ay! ay!" he said, with all due appearance of carelessness. "Like +eneugh. From the mistress downward, they're a' kittle cattle at +the inn since I've left 'em. What may it ha' been that she lost?" + +"She lost a letter." + +The look of uneasy expectation reappeared in the eye of Mr. +Bishopriggs. It was a question--and a serious question, from his +point of view--whether any suspicion of theft was attached to the +disappearance of the letter. + +"When ye say 'lost,' " he asked, "d'ye mean stolen?" + +Blanche was quite quick enough to see the necessity of quieting +his mind on this point. + +"Oh no!" she answered. "Not stolen. Only lost. Did you hear about +it?" + +"Wherefore suld _I_ ha' heard aboot it?" He looked hard at +Blanche --and detected a momentary hesitation in her face. "Tell +me this, my young leddy," he went on, advancing warily near to +the point. "When ye're speering for news o' your friend's lost +letter--what sets ye on comin' to _me?_" + +Those words were decisive. It is hardly too much to say that +Blanche's future depended on Blanche's answer to that question. + +If she could have produced the money; and if she had said, +boldly, "You have got the letter, Mr. Bishopriggs: I pledge my +word that no questions shall be asked, and I offer you ten pounds +for it"--in all probability the bargain would have been struck; +and the whole course of coming events would, in that case, have +been altered. But she had no money left; and there were no +friends, in the circle at Swanhaven, to whom she could apply, +without being misinterpreted, for a loan of ten pounds, to be +privately intrusted to her on the spot. Under stress of sheer +necessity Blanche abandoned all hope of making any present appeal +of a pecuniary nature to the confidence of Bishopriggs. + +The one other way of attaining her object that she could see was +to arm herself with the influence of Sir Patrick's name. A man, +placed in her position, would have thought it mere madness to +venture on such a risk as this. But Blanche--with one act of +rashness already on her conscience--rushed, woman-like, straight +to the commission of another. The same headlong eagerness to +reach her end, which had hurried her into questioning Geoffrey +before he left Windygates, now drove her, just as recklessly, +into taking the management of Bishopriggs out of Sir Patrick's +skilled and practiced hands. The starving sisterly love in her +hungered for a trace of Anne. Her heart whispered, Risk it! And +Blanche risked it on the spot. + +"Sir Patrick set me on coming to you," she said. + +The opening hand of Mr. Bishopriggs--ready to deliver the letter, +and receive the reward--closed again instantly as she spoke those +words. + +"Sir Paitrick?" he repeated "Ow! ow! ye've een tauld Sir Paitrick +aboot it, have ye? There's a chiel wi' a lang head on his +shouthers, if ever there was ane yet! What might Sir Paitrick ha' +said?" + +Blanche noticed a change in his tone. Blanche was rigidly careful +(when it was too late) to answer him in guarded terms. + +"Sir Patrick thought you might have found the letter," she said, +"and might not have remembered about it again until after you had +left the inn." + +Bishopriggs looked back into his own personal experience of his +old master--and drew the correct conclusion that Sir Patrick's +view of his connection with the disappearance of the letter was +not the purely unsuspicious view reported by Blanche. "The dour +auld deevil," he thought to himself, "knows me better than +_that!_" + +"Well?" asked Blanche, impatiently. "Is Sir Patrick right?" + +"Richt?" rejoined Bishopriggs, briskly. "He's as far awa' from +the truth as John o' Groat's House is from Jericho." + +"You know nothing of the letter?" + +"Deil a bit I know o' the letter. The first I ha' heard o' it is +what I hear noo." + +Blanche's heart sank within her. Had she defeated her own object, +and cut the ground from under Sir Patrick's feet, for the second +time? Surely not! There was unquestionably a chance, on this +occasion, that the man might be prevailed upon to place the trust +in her uncle which he was too cautious to confide to a stranger +like herself. The one wise thing to do now was to pave the way +for the exertion of Sir Patrick's superior influence, and Sir +Patrick's superior skill. She resumed the conversation with that +object in view. + +"I am sorry to hear that Sir Patrick has guessed wrong," she +resumed. "My friend was anxious to recover the letter when I last +saw her; and I hoped to hear news of it from you. However, right +or wrong, Sir Patrick has some reasons for wishing to see +you--and I take the opportunity of telling you so. He has left a +letter to wait for you at the Craig Fernie inn." + +"I'm thinking the letter will ha' lang eneugh to wait, if it +waits till I gae back for it to the hottle," remarked +Bishopriggs. + +"In that case," said Blanche, promptly, "you had better give me +an address at which Sir Patrick can write to you. You wouldn't, I +suppose, wish me to say that I had seen you here, and that you +refused to communicate with him?" + +"Never think it! " cried Bishopriggs, fervently. "If there's ain +thing mair than anither that I'm carefu' to presairve intact, +it's joost the respectful attention that I owe to Sir Paitrick. +I'll make sae bauld, miss, au to chairge ye wi' that bit caird. +I'm no' settled in ony place yet (mair's the pity at my time o' +life!), but Sir Paitrick may hear o' me, when Sir Paitrick has +need o' me, there." He handed a dirty little card to Blanche +containing the name and address of a butcher in Edinburgh. +"Sawmuel Bishopriggs," he went on, glibly. "Care o' Davie Dow, +flesher; Cowgate; Embro. My Patmos in the weelderness, miss, for +the time being." + +Blanche received the address with a sense of unspeakable relief. +If she had once more ventured on taking Sir Patrick's place, and +once more failed in justifying her rashness by the results, she +had at least gained some atoning advantage, this time, by opening +a means of communication between her uncle and Bishopriggs. "You +will hear from Sir Patrick," she said, and nodded kindly, and +returned to her place among the guests. + +"I'll hear from Sir Paitrick, wull I?" repeated Bishopriggs when +he was left by himself. "Sir Paitrick will wark naething less +than a meeracle if he finds Sawmuel Bishopriggs at the Cowgate, +Embro!" + +He laughed softly over his own cleverness; and withdrew to a +lonely place in the plantation, in which he could consult the +stolen correspondence without fear of being observed by any +living creature. Once more the truth had tried to struggle into +light, before the day of the marriage, and once more Blanche had +innocently helped the darkness to keep it from view. + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD. + +SEEDS OF THE FUTURE (THIRD SOWING). + +AFTER a new and attentive reading of Anne's letter to Geoffrey, +and of Geoffrey's letter to Anne, Bishopriggs laid down +comfortably under a tree, and set himself the task of seeing his +position plainly as it was at that moment. + +The profitable disposal of the correspondence to Blanche was no +longer among the possibilities involved in the case. As for +treating with Sir Patrick, Bishopriggs determined to keep equally +dear of the Cowgate, Edinburgh, and of Mrs. Inchbare's inn, so +long as there was the faintest chance of his pushing his own +interests in any other quarter. No person living would be capable +of so certainly extracting the correspondence from him, on such +ruinously cheap terms as his old master. "I'll no' put myself +under Sir Paitrick's thumb," thought Bishopriggs, "till I've gane +my ain rounds among the lave o' them first." + +Rendered into intelligible English, this resolution pledged him +to hold no communication with Sir Patrick--until he had first +tested his success in negotiating with other persons, who might +be equally interested in getting possession of the +correspondence, and more liberal in giving hush-money to the +thief who had stolen it. + +Who were the "other persons" at his disposal, under these +circumstances? + +He had only to recall the conversation which he had overheard +between Lady Lundie and Mrs. Delamayn to arrive at the discovery +of one person, to begin with, who was directly interested in +getting possession of his own letter. Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn was +in a fair way of being married to a lady named Mrs. Glenarm. And +here was this same Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn in matrimonial +correspondence, little more than a fortnight since, with another +lady--who signed herself "Anne Silvester." + +Whatever his position between the two women might be, his +interest in possessing himself of the correspondence was plain +beyond all doubt. It was equally clear that the first thing to be +done by Bishopriggs was to find the means of obtaining a personal +interview with him. If the interview led to nothing else, it +would decide one important question which still remained to be +solved. The lady whom Bishopriggs had waited on at Craig Fernie +might well be "Anne Silv ester." Was Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn, in +that case. the gentleman who had passed as her husband at the +inn? + +Bishopriggs rose to his gouty feet with all possible alacrity, +and hobbled away to make the necessary inquiries, addressing +himself, not to the men-servants at the dinner-table, who would +be sure to insist on his joining them, but to the women-servants +left in charge of the empty house. + +He easily obtained the necessary directions for finding the +cottage. But he was warned that Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn's trainer +allowed nobody to see his patron at exercise, and that he would +certainly be ordered off again the moment he appeared on the +scene. + +Bearing this caution in mind, Bishopriggs made a circuit, on +reaching the open ground, so as to approach the cottage at the +back, under shelter of the trees behind it. One look at Mr. +Geoffrey Delamayn was all that he wanted in the first instance. +They were welcome to order him off again, as long as he obtained +that. + +He was still hesitating at the outer line of the trees, when he +heard a loud, imperative voice, calling from the front of the +cottage, "Now, Mr. Geoffrey! Time's up!" Another voice answered, +"All right!" and, after an interval, Geoffrey Delamayn appeared +on the open ground, proceeding to the point from which he was +accustomed to walk his measured mile. + +Advancing a few steps to look at his man more closely, +Bishopriggs was instantly detected by the quick eye of the +trainer. "Hullo!" cried Perry, "what do you want here?" +Bishopriggs opened his lips to make an excuse. "Who the devil are +you?" roared Geoffrey. The trainer answered the question out of +the resources of his own experience. "A spy, Sir--sent to time +you at your work." Geoffrey lifted his mighty fist, and sprang +forward a step. Perry held his patron back. "You can't do that, +Sir," he said; "the man's too old. No fear of his turning up +again--you've scared him out of his wits." The statement was +strictly true. The terror of Bishopriggs at the sight of +Geoffrey's fist restored to him the activity of his youth. He ran +for the first time for twenty years; and only stopped to remember +his infirmities, and to catch his breath, when he was out of +sight of the cottage, among the trees. + +He sat down to rest and recover himself, with the comforting +inner conviction that, in one respect at least, he had gained his +point. The furious savage, with the eyes that darted fire and the +fist that threatened destruction, was a total stranger to him. In +other words, _not_ the man who had passed as the lady's husband +at the inn. + +At the same time it was equally certain that he _was_ the man +involved in the compromising correspondence which Bishopriggs +possessed. To appeal, however, to his interest in obtaining the +letter was entirely incompatible (after the recent exhibition of +his fist) with the strong regard which Bishopriggs felt for his +own personal security. There was no alternative now but to open +negotiations with the one other person concerned in the matter +(fortunately, on this occasion, a person of the gentler sex), who +was actually within reach. Mrs. Glenarm was at Swanhaven. She had +a direct interest in clearing up the question of a prior claim to +Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn on the part of another woman. And she could +only do that by getting the correspondence into her own hands. + +"Praise Providence for a' its mercies!" said Bishopriggs, getting +on his feet again. "I've got twa strings, as they say, to my boo. +I trow the woman's the canny string o' the twa--and we'll een try +the twanging of her." + +He set forth on his road back again, to search among the company +at the lake for Mrs. Glenarm. + +The dance had reached its climax of animation when Bishopriggs +reappeared on the scene of his duties; and the ranks of the +company had been recruited, in his absence, by the very person +whom it was now his foremost object to approach. + +Receiving, with supple submission, a reprimand for his prolonged +absence from the chief of the servants, Bishopriggs--keeping his +one observant eye carefully on the look-out--busied himself in +promoting the circulation of ices and cool drinks. + +While he was thus occupied, his attention was attracted by two +persons who, in very different ways, stood out prominently as +marked characters among the rank and file of the guests. + +The first person was a vivacious, irascible old gentleman, who +persisted in treating the undeniable fact of his age on the +footing of a scandalous false report set afloat by Time. He was +superbly strapped and padded. His hair, his teeth, and his +complexion were triumphs of artificial youth. When he was not +occupied among the youngest women present--which was very +seldom--he attached himself exclusively to the youngest men. He +insisted on joining every dance. Twice he measured his length +upon the grass, but nothing daunted him. He was waltzing again, +with another young woman, at the next dance, as if nothing had +happened. Inquiring who this effervescent old gentleman might be, +Bishopriggs discovered that he was a retired officer in the navy; +commonly known (among his inferiors) as "The Tartar;" more +formally described in society as Captain Newenden, the last male +representative of one of the oldest families in England. + +The second person, who appeared to occupy a position of +distinction at the dance in the glade, was a lady. + +To the eye of Bishopriggs, she was a miracle of beauty, with a +small fortune for a poor man carried about her in silk, lace, and +jewelry. No woman present was the object of such special +attention among the men as this fascinating and priceless +creature. She sat fanning herself with a matchless work of art +(supposed to be a handkerchief) representing an island of cambric +in the midst of an ocean of lace. She was surrounded by a little +court of admirers, who fetched and carried at her slightest nod, +like well-trained dogs. Sometimes they brought refreshments, +which she had asked for, only to decline taking them when they +came. Sometimes they brought information of what was going on +among the dancers, which the lady had been eager to receive when +they went away, and in which she had ceased to feel the smallest +interest when they came back. Every body burst into ejaculations +of distress when she was asked to account for her absence from +the dinner, and answered, "My poor nerves." Every body said, +"What should we have done without you!"--when she doubted if she +had done wisely in joining the party at all. Inquiring who this +favored lady might be, Bishopriggs discovered that she was the +niece of the indomitable old gentleman who _would_ dance--or, +more plainly still, no less a person than his contemplated +customer, Mrs. Glenarm. + +With all his enormous assurance Bishopriggs was daunted when he +found himself facing the question of what he was to do next. + +To open negotiations with Mrs. Glenarm, under present +circumstances, was, for a man in his position, simply impossible. +But, apart from this, the prospect of profitably addressing +himself to that lady in the future was, to say the least of it, +beset with difficulties of no common kind. + +Supposing the means of disclosing Geoffrey's position to her to +be found--what would she do, when she received her warning? She +would in all probability apply to one of two formidable men, both +of whom were interested in the matter. If she went straight to +the man accused of attempting to marry her, at a time when he was +already engaged to another woman--Bishopriggs would find himself +confronted with the owner of that terrible fist, which had justly +terrified him even on a distant and cursory view. If, on the +other hand she placed her interests in the care of her +uncle--Bishopriggs had only to look at the captain, and to +calculate his chance of imposing terms on a man who owed Life a +bill of more than sixty years' date, and who openly defied time +to recover the debt. + +With these serious obstacles standing in the way, what was to be +done? The only alternative left was to approach Mrs. Glenarm +under shelter of the dark. + +Reaching this conclusion, Bishopriggs decided to ascertain from +the servants what the lady's future movements might be; and, thus +informed, + to startle her by anonymous warnings, conveyed through the post, +and claiming their answer through the advertising channel of a +newspaper. Here was the certainty of alarming her, coupled with +the certainty of safety to himself! Little did Mrs. Glenarm +dream, when she capriciously stopped a servant going by with some +glasses of lemonade, that the wretched old creature who offered +the tray contemplated corresponding with her before the week was +out, in the double character of her "Well-Wisher" and her "True +Friend." + +The evening advanced. The shadows lengthened. The waters of the +lake grew pitchy black. The gliding of the ghostly swans became +rare and more rare. The elders of the party thought of the drive +home. The juniors (excepting Captain Newenden) began to flag at +the dance. Little by little the comfortable attractions of the +house--tea, coffee, and candle-light in snug rooms--resumed their +influence. The guests abandoned the glade; and the fingers and +lungs of the musicians rested at last. + +Lady Lundie and her party were the first to send for the carriage +and say farewell; the break-up of the household at Windygates on +the next day, and the journey south, being sufficient apologies +for setting the example of retreat. In an hour more the only +visitors left were the guests staying at Swanhaven Lodge. + +The company gone, the hired waiters from Kirkandrew were paid and +dismissed. + +On the journey back the silence of Bishopriggs created some +surprise among his comrades. + +"I've got my ain concerns. to think of," was the only answer he +vouchsafed to the remonstrances addressed to him. The "concerns" +alluded to, comprehended, among other changes of plan, his +departure from Kirkandrew the next day--with a reference, in case +of inquiries, to his convenient friend at the Cowgate, Edinburgh. +His actual destination--to be kept a secret from every body--was +Perth. The neighborhood of this town--as stated on the authority +of her own maid--was the part of Scotland to which the rich widow +contemplated removing when she left Swanhaven in two days' time. +At Perth, Bishopriggs knew of more than one place in which he +could get temporary employment--and at Perth he determined to +make his first anonymous advances to Mrs. Glenarm. + +The remainder of the evening passed quietly enough at the Lodge. + +The guests were sleepy and dull after the excitement of the day. +Mrs. Glenarm retired early. At eleven o'clock Julius Delamayn was +the only person left up in the house. He was understood to be in +his study, preparing an address to the electors, based on +instructions sent from London by his father. He was actually +occupied in the music-room--now that there was nobody to discover +him--playing exercises softly on his beloved violin. + +At the trainer's cottage a trifling incident occured, that night, +which afforded materials for a note in Perry's professional +diary. + +Geoffrey had sustained the later trial of walking for a given +time and distance, at his full speed, without showing any of +those symptoms of exhaustion which had followed the more serious +experiment of running, to which he had been subjected earlier in +the day. Perry, honestly bent--though he had privately hedged his +own bets--on doing his best to bring his man in good order to the +post on the day of the race, had forbidden Geoffrey to pay his +evening visit to the house, and had sent him to bed earlier than +usual. The trainer was alone, looking over his own written rules, +and considering what modifications he should introduce into the +diet and exercises of the next day, when he was startled by a +sound of groaning from the bedroom in which his patron lay +asleep. + +He went in, and found Geoffrey rolling to and fro on the pillow, +with his face contorted, with his hands clenched, and with the +perspiration standing thick on his forehead--suffering evidently +under the nervous oppression produced by the phantom-terrors of a +dream. + +Perry spoke to him, and pulled him up in the bed. He woke with a +scream. He stared at his trainer in vacant terror, and spoke to +his trainer in wild words. "What are your horrid eyes looking at +over my shoulder?" he cried out. "Go to the devil--and take your +infernal slate with you!" Perry spoke to him once more. "You've +been dreaming of somebody, Mr. Delamayn. What's to do about a +slate?" Geoffrey looked eagerly round the room, and heaved a +heavy breath of relief. "I could have sworn she was staring at me +over the dwarf pear-trees," he said. "All right, I know where I +am now." Perry (attributing the dream to nothing more important +than a passing indigestion) administered some brandy and water, +and left him to drop off again to sleep. He fretfully forbade the +extinguishing of the light. "Afraid of the dark?" said Perry, +with a laugh. No. He was afraid of dreaming again of the dumb +cook at Windygates House. + + +SEVENTH SCENE.--HAM FARM. + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH. + +THE NIGHT BEFORE. + +THE time was the night before the marriage. The place was Sir +Patrick's house in Kent. + +The lawyers had kept their word. The settlements had been +forwarded, and had been signed two days since. + +With the exception of the surgeon and one of the three young +gentlemen from the University, who had engagements elsewhere, the +visitors at Windygates had emigrated southward to be present at +the marriage. Besides these gentlemen, there were some ladies +among the guests invited by Sir Patrick--all of them family +connections, and three of them appointed to the position of +Blanche's bridesmaids. Add one or two neighbors to be invited to +the breakfast--and the wedding-party would be complete. + +There was nothing architecturally remarkable about Sir Patrick's +house. Ham Farm possessed neither the splendor of Windygates nor +the picturesque antiquarian attraction of Swanhaven. It was a +perfectly commonplace English country seat, surrounded by +perfectly commonplace English scenery. Snug monotony welcomed you +when you went in, and snug monotony met you again when you turned +to the window and looked out. + +The animation and variety wanting at Ham Farm were far from being +supplied by the company in the house. It was remembered, at an +after-period, that a duller wedding-party had never been +assembled together. + +Sir Patrick, having no early associations with the place, openly +admitted that his residence in Kent preyed on his spirits, and +that he would have infinitely preferred a room at the inn in the +village. The effort to sustain his customary vivacity was not +encouraged by persons and circumstances about him. Lady Lundie's +fidelity to the memory of the late Sir Thomas, on the scene of +his last illness and death, persisted in asserting itself, under +an ostentation of concealment which tried even the trained temper +of Sir Patrick himself. Blanche, still depressed by her private +anxieties about Anne, was in no condition of mind to look gayly +at the last memorable days of her maiden life. Arnold, +sacrificed--by express stipulation on the part of Lady Lundie--to +the prurient delicacy which forbids the bridegroom, before +marriage, to sleep in the same house with the bride, found +himself ruthlessly shut out from Sir Patrick's hospitality, and +exiled every night to a bedroom at the inn. He accepted his +solitary doom with a resignation which extended its sobering +influence to his customary flow of spirits. As for the ladies, +the elder among them existed in a state of chronic protest +against Lady Lundie, and the younger were absorbed in the +essentially serious occupation of considering and comparing their +wedding-dresses. The two young gentlemen from the University +performed prodigies of yawning, in the intervals of prodigies of +billiard playing. Smith said, in despair, "There's no making +things pleasant in this house, Jones." And Jones sighed, and +mildly agreed with him. + +On the Sunday evening--which was the evening before the +marriage--the dullness, as a matter of course, reached its +climax. + +But two of the occupations in which people may indulge on week +days are regarded as harmless on Sunday by the obstinately +anti-Christian tone of feeling which prevails in this matter +among the Anglo-Saxon race. It is not sinful to wrangle in +religious controversy; and it is not sinful to slumber over a +religious book. The ladies at Ham Farm practiced the pious +observance of the evening on this plan. The seniors of the sex +wrangled in Sunday controversy; and the juniors of the sex +slumbered over Sunday books. As for the men, it is unnecessary to +say that the young ones smoked when they were not yawning, and +yawned when they were not smoking. Sir Patrick staid in the +library, sorting old letters and examining old accounts. Every +person in the house felt the oppression of the senseless social +prohibitions which they had imposed on themselves. And yet every +person in the house would have been scandalized if the plain +question had been put: You know this is a tyranny of your own +making, you know you don't really believe in it, you know you +don't really like it--why do you submit? The freest people on the +civilized earth are the only people on the civilized earth who +dare not face that question. + +The evening dragged its slow length on; the welcome time drew +nearer and nearer for oblivion in bed. Arnold was silently +contemplating, for the last time, his customary prospects of +banishment to the inn, when he became aware that Sir Patrick was +making signs to him. He rose and followed his host into the empty +dining-room. Sir Patrick carefully closed the door. What did it +mean? + +It meant--so far as Arnold was concerned--that a private +conversation was about to diversify the monotony of the long +Sunday evening at Ham Farm. + +"I have a word to say to you, Arnold," the old gentleman began, +"before you become a married man. Do you remember the +conversation at dinner yesterday, about the dancing-party at +Swanhaven Lodge?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you remember what Lady Lundie said while the topic was on the +table?" + +"She told me, what I can't believe, that Geoffrey Delamayn was +going to be married to Mrs. Glenarm." + +"Exactly! I observed that you appeared to be startled by what my +sister-in-law had said; and when you declared that appearances +must certainly have misled her, you looked and spoke (to my mind) +like a man animated by a strong feeling of indignation. Was I +wrong in drawing that conclusion?" + +"No, Sir Patrick. You were right." + +"Have you any objection to tell me why you felt indignant?" + +Arnold hesitated. + +"You are probably at a loss to know what interest _I_ can feel in +the matter?" + +Arnold admitted it with his customary frankness. + +"In that case," rejoined Sir Patrick, "I had better go on at once +with the matter in hand--leaving you to see for yourself the +connection between what I am about to say, and the question that +I have just put. When I have done, you shall then reply to me or +not, exactly as you think right. My dear boy, the subject on +which I want to speak to you is--Miss Silvester." + +Arnold started. Sir Patrick looked at him with a moment's +attention, and went on: + +"My niece has her faults of temper and her failings of judgment," +he said. "But she has one atoning quality (among many others) +which ought to make--and which I believe will make--the happiness +of your married life. In the popular phrase, Blanche is as true +as steel. Once her friend, always her friend. Do you see what I +am coming to? She has said nothing about it, Arnold; but she has +not yielded one inch in her resolution to reunite herself to Miss +Silvester. One of the first questions you will have to determine, +after to-morrow, will be the question of whether you do, or not, +sanction your wife in attempting to communicate with her lost +friend." + +Arnold answered without the slightest reserve + +"I am heartily sorry for Blanche's lost friend, Sir Patrick. My +wife will have my full approval if she tries to bring Miss +Silvester back--and my best help too, if I can give it." + +Those words were earnestly spoken. It was plain that they came +from his heart. + +"I think you are wrong," said Sir Patrick. "I, too, am sorry for +Miss Silvester. But I am convinced that she has not left Blanche +without a serious reason for it. And I believe you will be +encouraging your wife in a hopeless effort, if you encourage her +to persist in the search for her lost friend. However, it is your +affair, and not mine. Do you wish me to offer you any facilities +for tracing Miss Silvester which I may happen to possess?" + +"If you _can_ help us over any obstacles at starting, Sir +Patrick, it will be a kindness to Blanche, and a kindness to me." + +"Very good. I suppose you remember what I said to you, one +morning, when we were talking of Miss Silvester at Windygates?" + +"You said you had determined to let her go her own way." + +"Quite right! On the evening of the day when I said that I +received information that Miss Silvester had been traced to +Glasgow. You won't require me to explain why I never mentioned +this to you or to Blanche. In mentioning it now, I communicate to +you the only positive information, on the subject of the missing +woman, which I possess. There are two other chances of finding +her (of a more speculative kind) which can only be tested by +inducing two men (both equally difficult to deal with) to confess +what they know. One of those two men is--a person named +Bishopriggs, formerly waiter at the Craig Fernie inn." + +Arnold started, and changed color. Sir Patrick (silently noticing +him) stated the circumstances relating to Anne's lost letter, and +to the conclusion in his own mind which pointed to Bishopriggs as +the person in possession of it. + +"I have to add," he proceeded, "that Blanche, unfortunately, +found an opportunity of speaking to Bishopriggs at Swanhaven. +When she and Lady Lundie joined us at Edinburgh she showed me +privately a card which had been given to her by Bishopriggs. He +had described it as the address at which he might be heard +of--and Blanche entreated me, before we started for London, to +put the reference to the test. I told her that she had committed +a serious mistake in attempting to deal with Bishopriggs on her +own responsibility; and I warned her of the result in which I was +firmly persuaded the inquiry would end. She declined to believe +that Bishopriggs had deceived her. I saw that she would take the +matter into her own hands again unless I interfered; and I went +to the place. Exactly as I had anticipated, the person to whom +the card referred me had not heard of Bishopriggs for years, and +knew nothing whatever about his present movements. Blanche had +simply put him on his guard, and shown him the propriety of +keeping out of the way. If you should ever meet with him in the +future--say nothing to your wife, and communicate with me. I +decline to assist you in searching for Miss Silvester; but I have +no objection to assist in recovering a stolen letter from a +thief. So much for Bishopriggs.--Now as to the other man." + +"Who is he?" + +"Your friend, Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn." + +Arnold sprang to his feet in ungovernable surprise. + +"I appear to astonish you," remarked Sir Patrick. + +Arnold sat down again, and waited, in speechless suspense, to +hear what was coming next. + +"I have reason to know," said Sir Patrick, "that Mr. Delamayn is +thoroughly well acquainted with the nature of Miss Silvester's +present troubles. What his actual connection is with them, and +how he came into possession of his information, I have not found +out. My discovery begins and ends with the simple fact that he +has the information." + +"May I ask one question, Sir Patrick?" + +"What is it?" + +"How did you find out about Geoffrey Delamayn?" + +"It would occupy a long time," answered Sir Patrick, "to tell you +how--and it is not at all necessary to our purpose that you +should know. My present obligation merely binds me to tell +you--in strict confidence, mind!--that Miss Silvester's secrets +are no secrets to Mr. Delamayn. I leave to your discretion the +use you may make of that information. You are now entirely on a +par with me in relation to your knowledge of the case of Miss +Silvester. Let us return to the question which I asked you when +we first came into the room. Do you see the connection, now, +between that question, and what I have said since?" + +Arnold was slow to see the connection. His mind was running on +Sir Patrick's discovery. Little dreaming that he was indebted to +Mrs. Inchb are's incomplete description of him for his own escape +from detection, he was wondering how it had happened that _he_ +had remained unsuspected, while Geoffrey's position had been (in +part at least) revealed to view. + +"I asked you," resumed Sir Patrick, attempting to help him, "why +the mere report that your friend was likely to marry Mrs. Glenarm +roused your indignation, and you hesitated at giving an answer. +Do you hesitate still?" + +"It's not easy to give an answer, Sir Patrick." + +"Let us put it in another way. I assume that your view of the +report takes its rise in some knowledge, on your part, of Mr. +Delamayn's private affairs, which the rest of us don't +possess.--Is that conclusion correct?" + +"Quite correct." + +"Is what you know about Mr. Delamayn connected with any thing +that you know about Miss Silvester?" + +If Arnold had felt himself at liberty to answer that question, +Sir Patrick's suspicions would have been aroused, and Sir +Patrick's resolution would have forced a full disclosure from him +before he left the house. + +It was getting on to midnight. The first hour of the wedding-day +was at hand, as the Truth made its final effort to struggle into +light. The dark Phantoms of Trouble and Terror to come were +waiting near them both at that moment. Arnold hesitated +again--hesitated painfully. Sir Patrick paused for his answer. +The clock in the hall struck the quarter to twelve. + +"I can't tell you!" said Arnold. + +"Is it a secret?" + +"Yes." + +"Committed to your honor?" + +"Doubly committed to my honor." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that Geoffrey and I have quarreled since he took me into +his confidence. I am doubly bound to respect his confidence after +that." + +"Is the cause of your quarrel a secret also?" + +"Yes." + +Sir Patrick looked Arnold steadily in the face. + +"I have felt an inveterate distrust of Mr. Delamayn from the +first," he said. "Answer me this. Have you any reason to +think--since we first talked about your friend in the +summer-house at Windygates--that my opinion of him might have +been the right one after all?" + +"He has bitterly disappointed me," answered Arnold. "I can say no +more." + +"You have had very little experience of the world," proceeded Sir +Patrick. "And you have just acknowledged that you have had reason +to distrust your experience of your friend. Are you quite sure +that you are acting wisely in keeping his secret from _me?_ Are +you quite sure that you will not repent the course you are taking +to-night?" He laid a marked emphasis on those last words. "Think, +Arnold," he added, kindly. "Think before you answer." + +"I feel bound in honor to keep his secret," said Arnold. "No +thinking can alter that." + +Sir Patrick rose, and brought the interview to an end. + +"There is nothing more to be said." With those words he gave +Arnold his hand, and, pressing it cordially, wished him +good-night. + +Going out into the hall, Arnold found Blanche alone, looking at +the barometer. + +"The glass is at Set Fair, my darling," he whispered. "Good-night +for the last time!" + +He took her in his arms, and kissed her. At the moment when he +released her Blanche slipped a little note into his hand. + +"Read it," she whispered, "when you are alone at the inn." + +So they parted on the eve of their wedding day. + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH. + +THE DAY. + +THE promise of the weather-glass was fulfilled. The sun shone on +Blanche's marriage. + +At nine in the morning the first of the proceedings of the day +began. It was essentially of a clandestine nature. The bride and +bridegroom evaded the restraints of lawful authority, and +presumed to meet together privately, before they were married, in +the conservatory at Ham Farm. + +"You have read my letter, Arnold?" + +"I have come here to answer it, Blanche. But why not have told +me? Why write?" + +"Because I put off telling you so long; and because I didn't know +how you might take it; and for fifty other reasons. Never mind! +I've made my confession. I haven't a single secret now which is +not your secret too. There's time to say No, Arnold, if you think +I ought to have no room in my heart for any body but you. My +uncle tells me I am obstinate and wrong in refusing to give Anne +up. If you agree with him, say the word, dear, before you make me +your wife." + +"Shall I tell you what I said to Sir Patrick last night?" + +"About _this?_" + +"Yes. The confession (as you call it) which you make in your +pretty note, is the very thing that Sir Patrick spoke to me about +in the dining-room before I went away. He told me your heart was +set on finding Miss Silvester. And he asked me what I meant to do +about it when we were married." + +"And you said--?" + +Arnold repeated his answer to Sir Patrick, with fervid +embellishments of the original language, suitable to the +emergency. Blanche's delight expressed itself in the form of two +unblushing outrages on propriety, committed in close succession. +She threw her arms round Arnold's neck; and she actually kissed +him three hours before the consent of State and Church sanctioned +her in taking that proceeding. Let us shudder--but let us not +blame her. These are the consequences of free institutions + +"Now," said Arnold, "it's my turn to take to pen and ink. I have +a letter to write before we are married as well as you. Only +there's this difference between us--I want you to help me." + +"Who are you going to write to?" + +"To my lawyer in Edinburgh. There will be no time unless I do it +now. We start for Switzerland this afternoon--don't we?' + +"Yes." + +"Very well. I want to relieve your mind, my darling before we go. +Wouldn't you like to know--while we are away--that the right +people are on the look-out for Miss Silvester? Sir Patrick has +told me of the last place that she has been traced to--and my +lawyer will set the right people at work. Come and help me to put +it in the proper language, and the whole thing will be in train." + +"Oh, Arnold! can I ever love you enough to reward you for this!" + +"We shall see, Blanche--in Switzerland." + +They audaciously penetrated, arm in arm, into Sir Patrick's own +study--entirely at their disposal, as they well knew, at that +hour of the morning. With Sir Patrick's pens and Sir Patrick's +paper they produced a letter of instructions, deliberately +reopening the investigation which Sir Patrick's superior wisdom +had closed. Neither pains nor money were to be spared by the +lawyer in at once taking measures (beginning at Glasgow) to find +Anne. The report of the result was to be addressed to Arnold, +under cover to Sir Patrick at Ham Farm. By the time the letter +was completed the morning had advanced to ten o'clock. Blanche +left Arnold to array herself in her bridal splendor--after +another outrage on propriety, and more consequences of free +institutions. + +The next proceedings were of a public and avowable nature, and +strictly followed the customary precedents on such occasions. + +Village nymphs strewed flowers on the path to the church door +(and sent in the bill the same day). Village swains rang the +joy-bells (and got drunk on their money the same evening). There +was the proper and awful pause while the bridegroom was kept +waiting at the church. There was the proper and pitiless staring +of all the female spectators when the bride was led to the altar. +There was the clergyman's preliminary look at the license--which +meant official caution. And there was the clerk's preliminary +look at the bridegroom--which meant official fees. All the women +appeared to be in their natural element; and all the men appeared +to be out of it. + +Then the service began--rightly-considered, the most terrible, +surely, of all mortal ceremonies--the service which binds two +human beings, who know next to nothing of each other's natures, +to risk the tremendous experiment of living together till death +parts them--the service which says, in effect if not in words, +Take your leap in the dark: we sanctify, but we don't insure, it! + +The ceremony went on, without the slightest obstacle to mar its +effect. There were no unforeseen interruptions. There were no +ominous mistakes. + +The last words were spoken, and the book was closed. They signed +their names on the register; the husband was congratulated; the +wife was embraced. They went back aga in to the house, with more +flowers strewn at their feet. The wedding-breakfast was hurried; +the wedding-speeches were curtailed: there was no time to be +wasted, if the young couple were to catch the tidal train. + +In an hour more the carriage had whirled them away to the +station, and the guests had given them the farewell cheer from +the steps of the house. Young, happy, fondly attached to each +other, raised securely above all the sordid cares of life, what a +golden future was theirs! Married with the sanction of the Family +and the blessing of the Church--who could suppose that the time +was coming, nevertheless, when the blighting question would fall +on them, in the spring-time of their love: Are you Man and Wife? + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH. + +THE TRUTH AT LAST. + +Two days after the marriage--on Wednesday, the ninth of September +a packet of letters, received at Windygates, was forwarded by +Lady Lundie's steward to Ham Farm. + +With one exception, the letters were all addressed either to Sir +Patrick or to his sister-in-law. The one exception was directed +to "Arnold Brinkworth, Esq., care of Lady Lundie, Windygates +House, Perthshire"--and the envelope was specially protected by a +seal. + +Noticing that the post-mark was "Glasgow," Sir Patrick (to whom +the letter had been delivered) looked with a certain distrust at +the handwriting on the address. It was not known to him--but it +was obviously the handwriting of a woman. Lady Lundie was sitting +opposite to him at the table. He said, carelessly, "A letter for +Arnold"--and pushed it across to her. Her ladyship took up the +letter, and dropped it, the instant she looked at the +handwriting, as if it had burned her fingers. + +"The Person again!" exclaimed Lady Lundie. "The Person, presuming +to address Arnold Brinkworth, at My house!" + +"Miss Silvester?" asked Sir Patrick. + +"No," said her ladyship, shutting her teeth with a snap. "The +Person may insult me by addressing a letter to my care. But the +Person's name shall not pollute my lips. Not even in your house, +Sir Patrick. Not even to please _you._" + +Sir Patrick was sufficiently answered. After all that had +happened--after her farewell letter to Blanche--here was Miss +Silvester writing to Blanche's husband, of her own accord! It was +unaccountable, to say the least of it. He took the letter back, +and looked at it again. Lady Lundie's steward was a methodical +man. He had indorsed each letter received at Windygates with the +date of its delivery. The letter addressed to Arnold had been +delivered on Monday, the seventh of September--on Arnold's +wedding day. + +What did it mean? + +It was pure waste of time to inquire. Sir Patrick rose to lock +the letter up in one of the drawers of the writing-table behind +him. Lady Lundie interfered (in the interest of morality). + +"Sir Patrick!" + +"Yes?" + +"Don't you consider it your duty to open that letter?" + +"My dear lady! what can you possibly be thinking of?" + +The most virtuous of living women had her answer ready on the +spot. + +"I am thinking," said Lady Lundie, "of Arnold's moral welfare." + +Sir Patrick smiled. On the long list of those respectable +disguises under which we assert our own importance, or gratify +our own love of meddling in our neighbor's affairs, a moral +regard for the welfare of others figures in the foremost place, +and stands deservedly as number one. + +"We shall probably hear from Arnold in a day or two," said Sir +Patrick, locking the letter up in the drawer. "He shall have it +as soon as I know where to send it to him." + +The next morning brought news of the bride and bridegroom. + +They reported themselves to be too supremely happy to care where +they lived, so long as they lived together. Every question but +the question of Love was left in the competent hands of their +courier. This sensible and trust-worthy man had decided that +Paris was not to be thought of as a place of residence by any +sane human being in the month of September. He had arranged that +they were to leave for Baden--on their way to Switzerland--on the +tenth. Letters were accordingly to be addressed to that place, +until further notice. If the courier liked Baden, they would +probably stay there for some time. If the courier took a fancy +for the mountains, they would in that case go on to Switzerland. +In the mean while nothing mattered to Arnold but Blanche--and +nothing mattered to Blanche but Arnold. + +Sir Patrick re-directed Anne Silvester's letter to Arnold, at the +Poste Restante, Baden. A second letter, which had arrived that +morning (addressed to Arnold in a legal handwriting, and bearing +the post-mark of Edinburgh), was forwarded in the same way, and +at the same time. + +Two days later Ham Farm was deserted by the guests. Lady Lundie +had gone back to Windygates. The rest had separated in their +different directions. Sir Patrick, who also contemplated +returning to Scotland, remained behind for a week--a solitary +prisoner in his own country house. Accumulated arrears of +business, with which it was impossible for his steward to deal +single-handed, obliged him to remain at his estates in Kent for +that time. To a man without a taste for partridge-shooting the +ordeal was a trying one. Sir Patrick got through the day with the +help of his business and his books. In the evening the rector of +a neighboring parish drove over to dinner, and engaged his host +at the noble but obsolete game of Piquet. They arranged to meet +at each other's houses on alternate days. The rector was an +admirable player; and Sir Patrick, though a born Presbyterian, +blessed the Church of England from the bottom of his heart. + +Three more days passed. Business at Ham Farm began to draw to an +end. The time for Sir Patrick's journey to Scotland came nearer. +The two partners at Piquet agreed to meet for a final game, on +the next night, at the rector's house. But (let us take comfort +in remembering it) our superiors in Church and State are as +completely at the mercy of circumstances as the humblest and the +poorest of us. That last game of Piquet between the baronet and +the parson was never to be played. + +On the afternoon of the fourth day Sir Patrick came in from a +drive, and found a letter from Arnold waiting for him, which had +been delivered by the second post. + +Judged by externals only, it was a letter of an unusually +perplexing--possibly also of an unusually interesting--kind. +Arnold was one of the last persons in the world whom any of his +friends would have suspected of being a lengthy correspondent. +Here, nevertheless, was a letter from him, of three times the +customary bulk and weight--and, apparently, of more than common +importance, in the matter of news, besides. At the top the +envelope was marked "_Immediate._." And at one side (also +underlined) was the ominous word, "_Private._." + +"Nothing wrong, I hope?" thought Sir Patrick. + +He opened the envelope. + +Two inclosures fell out on the table. He looked at them for a +moment. They were the two letters which he had forwarded to +Baden. The third letter remaining in his hand and occupying a +double sheet, was from Arnold himself. Sir Patrick read Arnold's +letter first. It was dated "Baden," and it began as follows: + +"My Dear Sir Patrick,--Don't be alarmed, if you can possibly help +it. I am in a terrible mess." + +Sir Patrick looked up for a moment from the letter. Given a young +man who dates from "Baden," and declares himself to be in "a +terrible mess," as representing the circumstances of the +case--what is the interpretation to be placed on them? Sir +Patrick drew the inevitable conclusion. Arnold had been gambling. + +He shook his head, and went on with the letter. + +"I must say, dreadful as it is, that I am not to blame--nor she +either, poor thing." + +Sir Patrick paused again. "She?" Blanche had apparently been +gambling too? Nothing was wanting to complete the picture but an +announcement in the next sentence, presenting the courier as +carried away, in his turn, by the insatiate passion for play. Sir +Patrick resumed: + +"You can not, I am sure, expect _me_ to have known the law. And +as for poor Miss Silvester--" + +"Miss Silvester?" What had Miss Silvester to do with it? And what +could be the meaning of the reference to "the law?" + +Sir Patrick had re ad the letter, thus far, standing up. A vague +distrust stole over him at the appearance of Miss Silvester's +name in connection with the lines which had preceded it. He felt +nothing approaching to a clear prevision of what was to come. +Some indescribable influence was at work in him, which shook his +nerves, and made him feel the infirmities of his age (as it +seemed) on a sudden. It went no further than that. He was obliged +to sit down: he was obliged to wait a moment before he went on. + +The letter proceeded, in these words: + +"And, as for poor Miss Silvester, though she felt, as she reminds +me, some misgivings--still, she never could have foreseen, being +no lawyer either, how it was to end. I hardly know the best way +to break it to you. I can't, and won't, believe it myself. But +even if it should be true, I am quite sure you will find a way +out of it for us. I will stick at nothing, and Miss Silvester (as +you will see by her letter) will stick at nothing either, to set +things right. Of course, I have not said one word to my darling +Blanche, who is quite happy, and suspects nothing. All this, dear +Sir Patrick, is very badly written, I am afraid, but it is meant +to prepare you, and to put the best side on matters at starting. +However, the truth must be told--and shame on the Scotch law is +what _I_ say. This it is, in short: Geoffrey Delamayn is even a +greater scoundrel than you think him; and I bitterly repent (as +things have turned out) having held my tongue that night when you +and I had our private talk at Ham Farm. You will think I am +mixing two things up together. But I am not. Please to keep this +about Geoffrey in your mind, and piece it together with what I +have next to say. The worst is still to come. Miss Silvester's +letter (inclosed) tells me this terrible thing. You must know +that I went to her privately, as Geoffrey's messenger, on the day +of the lawn-party at Windygates. Well--how it could have +happened, Heaven only knows--but there is reason to fear that I +married her, without being aware of it myself, in August last, at +the Craig Fernie inn." + +The letter dropped from Sir Patrick's hand. He sank back in the +chair, stunned for the moment, under the shock that had fallen on +him. + +He rallied, and rose bewildered to his feet. He took a turn in +the room. He stopped, and summoned his will, and steadied himself +by main force. He picked up the letter, and read the last +sentence again. His face flushed. He was on the point of yielding +himself to a useless out burst of anger against Arnold, when his +better sense checked him at the last moment. "One fool in the +family is, enough," he said. "_My_ business in this dreadful +emergency is to keep my head clear for Blanche's sake." + +He waited once more, to make sure of his own composure--and +turned again to the letter, to see what the writer had to say for +himself, in the way of explanation and excuse. + +Arnold had plenty to say--with the drawback of not knowing how to +say it. It was hard to decide which quality in his letter was +most marked--the total absence of arrangement, or the total +absence of reserve. Without beginning, middle, or end, he told +the story of his fatal connection with the troubles of Anne +Silvester, from the memorable day when Geoffrey Delamayn sent him +to Craig Fernie, to the equally memorable night when Sir Patrick +had tried vainly to make him open his lips at Ham Farm. + +"I own I have behaved like a fool," the letter concluded, "in +keeping Geoffrey Delamayn's secret for him--as things have turned +out. But how could I tell upon him without compromising Miss +Silvester? Read her letter, and you will see what she says, and +how generously she releases me. It's no use saying I am sorry I +wasn't more cautious. The mischief is done. I'll stick at +nothing--as I have said before--to undo it. Only tell me what is +the first step I am to take; and, as long as it don't part me +from Blanche, rely on my taking it. Waiting to hear from you, I +remain, dear Sir Patrick, yours in great perplexity, Arnold +Brinkworth." + +Sir Patrick folded the letter, and looked at the two inclosures +lying on the table. His eye was hard, his brow was frowning, as +he put his hand to take up Anne's letter. The letter from +Arnold's agent in Edinburgh lay nearer to him. As it happened, he +took that first. + +It was short enough, and clearly enough written, to invite a +reading before he put it down again. The lawyer reported that he +had made the necessary inquiries at Glasgow, with this result. +Anne had been traced to The Sheep's Head Hotel. She had lain +there utterly helpless, from illness, until the beginning of +September. She had been advertised, without result, in the +Glasgow newspapers. On the 5th of September she had sufficiently +recovered to be able to leave the hotel. She had been seen at the +railway station on the same day--but from that point all trace of +her had been lost once more. The lawyer had accordingly stopped +the proceedings, and now waited further instructions from his +client. + +This letter was not without its effect in encouraging Sir Patrick +to suspend the harsh and hasty judgment of Anne, which any man, +placed in his present situation, must have been inclined to form. +Her illness claimed its small share of sympathy. Her friendless +position--so plainly and so sadly revealed by the advertising in +the newspapers--pleaded for merciful construction of faults +committed, if faults there were. Gravely, but not angrily, Sir +Patrick opened her letter--the letter that cast a doubt on his +niece's marriage. + +Thus Anne Silvester wrote: + + + +"GLASGOW, _September_ 5. + +"DEAR MR. BRINKWORTH,--Nearly three weeks since I attempted to +write to you from this place. I was seized by sudden illness +while I was engaged over my letter; and from that time to this I +have laid helpless in bed--very near, as they tell me, to death. +I was strong enough to be dressed, and to sit up for a little +while yesterday and the day before. To-day, I have made a better +advance toward recovery. I can hold my pen and control my +thoughts. The first use to which I put this improvement is to +write these lines. + +"I am going (so far as I know) to surprise--possibly to +alarm--you. There is no escaping from it, for you or for me; it +must be done. + +"Thinking of how best to introduce what I am now obliged to say, +I can find no better way than this. I must ask you to take your +memory back to a day which we have both bitter reason to +regret--the day when Geoffrey Delamayn sent you to see me at the +inn at Craig Fernie. + +"You may possibly not remember--it unhappily produced no +impression on you at the time--that I felt, and expressed, more +than once on that occasion, a very great dislike to your passing +me off on the people of the inn as your wife. It was necessary to +my being permitted to remain at Craig Fernie that you should do +so. I knew this; but still I shrank from it. It was impossible +for me to contradict you, without involving you in the painful +consequences, and running the risk of making a scandal which +might find its way to Blanche's ears. I knew this also; but still +my conscience reproached me. It was a vague feeling. I was quite +unaware of the actual danger in which you were placing yourself, +or I would have spoken out, no matter what came of it. I had what +is called a presentiment that you were not acting +discreetly--nothing more. As I love and honor my mother's +memory--as I trust in the mercy of God--this is the truth. + +"You left the inn the next morning, and we have not met since. + +"A few days after you went away my anxieties grew more than I +could bear alone. I went secretly to Windygates, and had an +interview with Blanche. + +"She was absent for a few minutes from the room in which we had +met. In that interval I saw Geoffrey Delamayn for the first time +since I had left him at Lady Lundie's lawn-party. He treated me +as if I was a stranger. He told me that he had found out all that +had passed between us at the inn. He said he had taken a lawyer's +opinion. Oh, Mr. Brinkworth! how can I break it to you? how can I +write the words which repeat what he said to me next? It must be +done. Cruel as it is, it must be done. He refused to my face to +marr y me. He said I was married already. He said I was your +wife. + +"Now you know why I have referred you to what I felt (and +confessed to feeling) when we were together at Craig Fernie. If +you think hard thoughts, and say hard words of me, I can claim no +right to blame you. I am innocent--and yet it is my fault. + +"My head swims, and the foolish tears are rising in spite of me. +I must leave off, and rest a little. + + + +"I have been sitting at the window, and watching the people in +the street as they go by. They are all strangers. But, somehow, +the sight of them seems to rest my mind. The hum of the great +city gives me heart, and helps me to go on. + +"I can not trust myself to write of the man who has betrayed us +both. Disgraced and broken as I am, there is something still left +in me which lifts me above _him._ If he came repentant, at this +moment, and offered me all that rank and wealth and worldly +consideration can give, I would rather be what I am now than be +his wife. + +"Let me speak of you; and (for Blanche's sake) let me speak of +myself. + +"I ought, no doubt, to have waited to see you at Windygates, and +to have told you at once of what had happened. But I was weak and +ill and the shock of hearing what I heard fell so heavily on me +that I fainted. After I came to myself I was so horrified, when I +thought of you and Blanche that a sort of madness possessed me. I +had but one idea--the idea of running away and hiding myself. + +"My mind got clearer and quieter on the way to this place; and, +arrived here, I did what I hope and believe was the best thing I +could do. I consulted two lawyers. They differed in opinion as to +whether we were married or not--according to the law which +decides on such things in Scotland. The first said Yes. The +second said No--but advised me to write immediately and tell you +the position in which you stood. I attempted to write the same +day, and fell ill as you know. + +"Thank God, the delay that has happened is of no consequence. I +asked Blanche, at Windygates, when you were to be married--and +she told me not until the end of the autumn. It is only the fifth +of September now. You have plenty of time before you. For all our +sakes, make good use of it. + +"What are you to do? + +"Go at once to Sir Patrick Lundie, and show him this letter. +Follow his advice--no matter how it may affect _me._ I should ill +requite your kindness, I should be false indeed to the love I +bear to Blanche, if I hesitated to brave any exposure that may +now be necessary in your interests and in hers. You have been all +that is generous, all that is delicate, all that is kind in this +matter. You have kept my disgraceful secret--I am quite sure of +it--with the fidelity of an honorable man who has had a woman's +reputation placed in his charge. I release you, with my whole +heart, dear Mr. Brinkworth, from your pledge. I entreat you, on +my knees, to consider yourself free to reveal the truth. I will +make any acknowledgment, on my side, that is needful under the +circumstances--no matter how public it may be. Release yourself +at any price; and then, and not till then, give back your regard +to the miserable woman who has laden you with the burden of her +sorrow, and darkened your life for a moment with the shadow of +her shame. + +"Pray don't think there is any painful sacrifice involved in +this. The quieting of my own mind is involved in it--and that is +all. + +"What has life left for _me?_ Nothing but the barren necessity of +living. When I think of the future now, my mind passes over the +years that may be left to me in this world. Sometimes I dare to +hope that the Divine Mercy of Christ--which once pleaded on earth +for a woman like me--may plead, when death has taken me, for my +spirit in Heaven. Sometimes I dare to hope that I may see my +mother, and Blanche's mother, in the better world. Their hearts +were bound together as the hearts of sisters while they were +here; and they left to their children the legacy of their love. +Oh, help me to say, if we meet again, that not in vain I promised +to be a sister to Blanche! The debt I owe to her is the +hereditary debt of my mother's gratitude. And what am I now? An +obstacle in the way of the happiness of her life. Sacrifice me to +that happiness, for God's sake! It is the one thing I have left +to live for. Again and again I say it--I care nothing for myself. +I have no right to be considered; I have no wish to be +considered. Tell the whole truth about me, and call me to bear +witness to it as publicly as you please! + + + +"I have waited a little, once more, trying to think, before I +close my letter, what there may be still left to write. + +"I can not think of any thing left but the duty of informing you +how you may find me. if you wish to write--or if it is thought +necessary that we should meet again. + +"One word before I tell you this. + +"It is impossible for me to guess what you will do, or what you +will be advised to do by others, when you get my letter. I don't +even know that you may not already have heard of what your +position is from Geoffrey Delamayn himself. In this event, or in +the event of your thinking it desirable to take Blanche into your +confidence, I venture to suggest that you should appoint some +person whom you can trust to see me on your behalf--or, if you +can not do this that you should see me in the presence of a third +person. The man who has not hesitated to betray us both, will not +hesitate to misrepresent us in the vilest way, if he can do it in +the future. For your own sake, let us be careful to give lying +tongues no opportunity of assailing your place in Blanche's +estimation. Don't act so as to risk putting yourself in a false +position _again!_ Don't let it be possible that a feeling +unworthy of her should be roused in the loving and generous +nature of your future wife! + +"This written, I may now tell you how to communicate with me +after I have left this place. + +"You will find on the slip of paper inclosed the name and address +of the second of the two lawyers whom I consulted in Glasgow. It +is arranged between us that I am to inform him, by letter, of the +next place to which I remove, and that he is to communicate the +information either to you or to Sir Patrick Lundie, on your +applying for it personally or by writing. I don't yet know myself +where I may find refuge. Nothing is certain but that I can not, +in my present state of weakness, travel far. + +"If you wonder why I move at all until I am stronger, I can only +give a reason which may appear fanciful and overstrained. + +"I have been informed that I was advertised in the Glasgow +newspapers during the time when I lay at this hotel, a stranger +at the point of death. Trouble has perhaps made me morbidly +suspicious. I am afraid of what may happen if I stay here, after +my place of residence has been made publicly known. So, as soon +as I can move, I go away in secret. It will be enough for me, if +I can find rest and peace in some quiet place, in the country +round Glasgow. You need feel no anxiety about my means of living. +I have money enough for all that I need--and, if I get well +again, I know how to earn my bread. + +"I send no message to Blanche--I dare not till this is over. Wait +till she is your happy wife; and then give her a kiss, and say it +comes from Anne. + +"Try and forgive me, dear Mr. Brinkworth. I have said all. Yours +gratefully, + +"ANNE SILVESTER." + + + +Sir Patrick put the letter down with unfeigned respect for the +woman who had written it. + +Something of the personal influence which Anne exercised more or +less over all the men with whom she came in contact seemed to +communicate itself to the old lawyer through the medium of her +letter. His thoughts perversely wandered away from the serious +and pressing question of his niece's position into a region of +purely speculative inquiry relating to Anne. What infatuation (he +asked himself) had placed that noble creature at the mercy of +such a man as Geoffrey Delamayn? + +We have all, at one time or another in our lives, been perplexed +as Sir Patrick was perplexed now. + +If we know any thing by experience, we know that women cast +themselves away impulsively on unworthy men, and that men ruin +themselves headlong for unworthy w omen. We have the institution +of Divorce actually among us, existing mainly because the two +sexes are perpetually placing themselves in these anomalous +relations toward each other. And yet, at every fresh instance +which comes before us, we persist in being astonished to find +that the man and the woman have not chosen each other on rational +and producible grounds! We expect human passion to act on logical +principles; and human fallibility--with love for its guide--to be +above all danger of making a mistake! Ask the wisest among Anne +Silvester's sex what they saw to rationally justify them in +choosing the men to whom they have given their hearts and their +lives, and you will be putting a question to those wise women +which they never once thought of putting to themselves. Nay, more +still. Look into your own experience, and say frankly, Could you +justify your own excellent choice at the time when you +irrevocably made it? Could you have put your reasons on paper +when you first owned to yourself that you loved him? And would +the reasons have borne critical inspection if you had? + +Sir Patrick gave it up in despair. The interests of his niece +were at stake. He wisely determined to rouse his mind by +occupying himself with the practical necessities of the moment. +It was essential to send an apology to the rector, in the first +place, so as to leave the evening at his disposal for considering +what preliminary course of conduct he should advise Arnold to +pursue. + +After writing a few lines of apology to his partner at +Piquet--assigning family business as the excuse for breaking his +engagement--Sir Patrick rang the bell. The faithful Duncan +appeared, and saw at once in his master s face that something had +happened. + +"Send a man with this to the Rectory," said Sir Patrick. "I can't +dine out to-day. I must have a chop at home." + +"I am afraid, Sir Patrick--if I may be excused for remarking +it--you have had some bad news?" + +"The worst possible news, Duncan. I can't tell you about it now. +Wait within hearing of the bell. In the mean time let nobody +interrupt me. If the steward himself comes I can't see him." + +After thinking it over carefully, Sir Patrick decided that there +was no alternative but to send a message to Arnold and Blanche, +summoning them back to England in the first place. The necessity +of questioning Arnold, in the minutest detail, as to every thing +that had happened between Anne Silvester and himself at the Craig +Fernie inn, was the first and foremost necessity of the case. + +At the same time it appeared to be desirable, for Blanche's sake, +to keep her in ignorance, for the present at least, of what had +happened. Sir Patrick met this difficulty with characteristic +ingenuity and readiness of resource. + +He wrote a telegram to Arnold, expressed in the following terms: + +"Your letter and inclosures received. Return to Ham Farm as soon +as you conveniently can. Keep the thing still a secret from +Blanche. Tell her, as the reason for coming back, that the lost +trace of Anne Silvester has been recovered, and that there may be +reasons for her returning to England before any thing further can +be done." + +Duncan having been dispatched to the station with this message, +Duncan's master proceeded to calculate the question of time. + +Arnold would in all probability receive the telegram at Baden, on +the next day, September the seventeenth. In three days more he +and Blanche might be expected to reach Ham Farm. During the +interval thus placed at his disposal Sir Patrick would have ample +time in which to recover himself, and to see his way to acting +for the best in the alarming emergency that now confronted him. + + + +On the nineteenth Sir Patrick received a telegram informing him +that he might expect to see the young couple late in the evening +on the twentieth. + +Late in the evening the sound of carriage-wheels was audible on +the drive; and Sir Patrick, opening the door of his room, heard +the familiar voices in the hall. + +"Well!" cried Blanche, catching sight of him at the door, "is +Anne found?" + +"Not just yet, my dear." + +"Is there news of her?" + +"Yes." + +"Am I in time to be of use?" + +"In excellent time. You shall hear all about it to-morrow. Go and +take off your traveling-things, and come down again to supper as +soon as you can." + +Blanche kissed him, and went on up stairs. She had, as her uncle +thought in the glimpse he had caught of her, been improved by her +marriage. It had quieted and steadied her. There were graces in +her look and manner which Sir Patrick had not noticed before. +Arnold, on his side, appeared to less advantage. He was restless +and anxious; his position with Miss Silvester seemed to be +preying on his mind. As soon as his young wife's back was turned, +he appealed to Sir Patrick in an eager whisper. + +"I hardly dare ask you what I have got it on my mind to say," he +began. "I must bear it if you are angry with me, Sir Patrick. +But--only tell me one thing. Is there a way out of it for us? +Have you thought of that?" + +"I can not trust myself to speak of it clearly and composedly +to-night," said Sir Patrick. "Be satisfied if I tell you that I +have thought it all out--and wait for the rest till to-morrow." + +Other persons concerned in the coming drama had had past +difficulties to think out, and future movements to consider, +during the interval occupied by Arnold and Blanche on their +return journey to England. Between the seventeenth and the +twentieth of September Geoffrey Delamayn had left Swanhaven, on +the way to his new training quarters in the neighborhood in which +the Foot-Race at Fulham was to be run. Between the same dates, +also, Captain Newenden had taken the opportunity, while passing +through London on his way south, to consult his solicitors. The +object of the conference was to find means of discovering an +anonymous letter-writer in Scotland, who had presumed to cause +serious annoyance to Mrs. Glenarm. + +Thus, by ones and twos, converging from widely distant quarters, +they were now beginning to draw together, in the near +neighborhood of the great city which was soon destined to +assemble them all, for the first and the last time in this world, +face to face. + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH. + +THE WAY OUT. + +BREAKFAST was just over. Blanche, seeing a pleasantly-idle +morning before her, proposed to Arnold to take a stroll in the +grounds. + +The garden was blight with sunshine, and the bride was bright +with good-humor. She caught her uncle's eye, looking at her +admiringly, and paid him a little compliment in return. "You have +no idea," she said, "how nice it is to be back at Ham Farm!" + +"I am to understand then," rejoined Sir Patrick, "that I am +forgiven for interrupting the honey-moon?" + +"You are more than forgiven for interrupting it," said +Blanche--"you are thanked. As a married woman," she proceeded, +with the air of a matron of at least twenty years' standing, "I +have been thinking the subject over; and I have arrived at the +conclusion that a honey-moon which takes the form of a tour on +the Continent, is one of our national abuses which stands in need +of reform. When you are in love with each other (consider a +marriage without love to be no marriage at all), what do you want +with the excitement of seeing strange places? Isn't it excitement +enough, and isn't it strange enough, to a newly-married woman to +see such a total novelty as a husband? What is the most +interesting object on the face of creation to a man in Arnold's +position? The Alps? Certainly not! The most interesting object is +the wife. And the proper time for a bridal tour is the time--say +ten or a dozen years later--when you are beginning (not to get +tired of each other, that's out of the question) but to get a +little too well used to each other. Then take your tour to +Switzerland--and you give the Alps a chance. A succession of +honey-moon trips, in the autumn of married life--there is my +proposal for an improvement on the present state of things! Come +into the garden, Arnold; and let us calculate how long it will be +before we get weary of each other, and want the beauties of +nature to keep us company." + +Arnold looked appealingly to Sir Patrick. Not a word had passed +between them, as yet, on the se rious subject of Anne Silvester's +letter. Sir Patrick undertook the responsibility of making the +necessary excuses to Blanche. + +"Forgive me," he said, "if I ask leave to interfere with your +monopoly of Arnold for a little while. I have something to say to +him about his property in Scotland. Will you leave him with me, +if I promise to release him as soon as possible?" + +Blanche smiled graciously. "You shall have him as long as you +like, uncle. There's your hat," she added, tossing it to her +husband, gayly. "I brought it in for you when I got my own. You +will find me on the lawn." + +She nodded, and went out. + +"Let me hear the worst at once, Sir Patrick," Arnold began. "Is +it serious? Do you think I am to blame?" + +"I will answer your last question first," said Sir Patrick. "Do I +think you are to blame? Yes--in this way. You committed an act of +unpardonable rashness when you consented to go, as Geoffrey +Delamayn's messenger, to Miss Silvester at the inn. Having once +placed yourself in that false position, you could hardly have +acted, afterward, otherwise than you did. You could not be +expected to know the Scotch law. And, as an honorable man, you +were bound to keep a secret confided to you, in which the +reputation of a woman was concerned. Your first and last error in +this matter, was the fatal error of involving yourself in +responsibilities which belonged exclusively to another man." + +"The man had saved my life." pleaded Arnold--"and I believed I +was giving service for service to my dearest friend." + +"As to your other question," proceeded Sir Patrick. "Do I +consider your position to be a serious one? Most assuredly, I do! +So long as we are not absolutely certain that Blanche is your +lawful wife, the position is more than serious: it is +unendurable. I maintain the opinion, mind, out of which (thanks +to your honorable silence) that scoundrel Delamayn contrived to +cheat me. I told him, what I now tell you--that your sayings and +doings at Craig Fernie, do _not_ constitute a marriage, according +to Scottish law. But," pursued Sir Patrick, holding up a warning +forefinger at Arnold, "you have read it in Miss Silvester's +letter, and you may now take it also as a result of my +experience, that no individual opinion, in a matter of this kind, +is to be relied on. Of two lawyers, consulted by Miss Silvester +at Glasgow, one draws a directly opposite conclusion to mine, and +decides that you and she are married. I believe him to be wrong, +but in our situation, we have no other choice than to boldly +encounter the view of the case which he represents. In plain +English, we must begin by looking the worst in the face." + +Arnold twisted the traveling hat which Blanche had thrown to him, +nervously, in both hands. "Supposing the worst comes to the +worst," he asked, "what will happen?" + +Sir Patrick shook his head. + +"It is not easy to tell you," he said, "without entering into the +legal aspect of the case. I shall only puzzle you if I do that. +Suppose we look at the matter in its social bearings--I mean, as +it may possibly affect you and Blanche, and your unborn +children?" + +Arnold gave the hat a tighter twist than ever. "I never thought +of the children," he said, with a look of consternation. + +"The children may present themselves," returned Sir Patrick, +dryly, "for all that. Now listen. It may have occurred to your +mind that the plain way out of our present dilemma is for you and +Miss Silvester, respectively, to affirm what we know to be the +truth--namely, that you never had the slightest intention of +marrying each other. Beware of founding any hopes on any such +remedy as that! If you reckon on it, you reckon without Geoffrey +Delamayn. He is interested, remember, in proving you and Miss +Silvester to be man and wife. Circumstances may arise--I won't +waste time in guessing at what they may be--which will enable a +third person to produce the landlady and the waiter at Craig +Fernie in evidence against you--and to assert that your +declaration and Miss Silvester's declaration are the result of +collusion between you two. Don't start! Such things have happened +before now. Miss Silvester is poor; and Blanche is rich. You may +be made to stand in the awkward position of a man who is denying +his marriage with a poor woman, in order to establish his +marriage with an heiress: Miss Silvester presumably aiding the +fraud, with two strong interests of her own as inducements--the +interest of asserting the claim to be the wife of a man of rank, +and the interest of earning her reward in money for resigning you +to Blanche. There is a case which a scoundrel might set up--and +with some appearance of truth too--in a court of justice!" + +"Surely, the law wouldn't allow him to do that?" + +"The law will argue any thing, with any body who will pay the law +for the use of its brains and its time. Let that view of the +matter alone now. Delamayn can set the case going, if he likes, +without applying to any lawyer to help him. He has only to cause +a report to reach Blanche's ears which publicly asserts that she +is not your lawful wife. With her temper, do you suppose she +would leave us a minute's peace till the matter was cleared up? +Or take it the other way. Comfort yourself, if you will, with the +idea that this affair will trouble nobody in the present. How are +we to know it may not turn up in the future under circumstances +which may place the legitimacy of your children in doubt? We have +a man to deal with who sticks at nothing. We have a state of the +law which can only be described as one scandalous uncertainty +from beginning to end. And we have two people (Bishopriggs and +Mrs. Inchbare) who can, and will, speak to what took place +between you and Anne Silvester at the inn. For Blanche's sake, +and for the sake of your unborn children, we must face this +matter on the spot--and settle it at once and forever. The +question before us now is this. Shall we open the proceedings by +communicating with Miss Silvester or not?" + + + +At that important point in the conversation they were interrupted +by the reappearance of Blanche. Had she, by any accident, heard +what they had been saying? + +No; it was the old story of most interruptions. Idleness that +considers nothing, had come to look at Industry that bears every +thing. It is a law of nature, apparently, that the people in this +world who have nothing to do can not support the sight of an +uninterrupted occupation in the hands of their neighbors. Blanche +produced a new specimen from Arnold's collection of hats. "I have +been thinking about it in the garden," she said, quite seriously. +"Here is the brown one with the high crown. You look better in +this than in the white one with the low crown. I have come to +change them, that's all." She changed the hats with Arnold, and +went on, without the faintest suspicion that she was in the way. +"Wear the brown one when you come out--and come soon, dear. I +won't stay an instant longer, uncle--I wouldn't interrupt you for +the world." She kissed her hand to Sir Patrick, and smiled at her +husband, and went out. + + + +"What were we saying?" asked Arnold. "It's awkward to be +interrupted in this way, isn't it?" + +"If I know any thing of female human nature," returned Sir +Patrick, composedly, "your wife will be in and out of the room, +in that way, the whole morning. I give her ten minutes, Arnold, +before she changes her mind again on the serious and weighty +subject of the white hat and the brown. These little +interruptions--otherwise quite charming--raised a doubt in my +mind. Wouldn't it be wise (I ask myself), if we made a virtue of +necessity, and took Blanche into the conversation? What do you +say to calling her back and telling her the truth?" + +Arnold started, and changed color. + +"There are difficulties in the way," he said. + +"My good fellow! at every step of this business there are +difficulties in the way. Sooner or later, your wife must know +what has happened. The time for telling her is, no doubt, a +matter for your decision, not mine. All I say is this. Consider +whether the disclosure won't come from you with a better grace, +if you make it before you are fairly driven to the wall, and +obliged to open your lips." + +Arnold rose to his fee t--took a turn in the room--sat down +again--and looked at Sir Patrick, with the expression of a +thoroughly bewildered and thoroughly helpless man. + +"I don't know what to do," he said. "It beats me altogether. The +truth is, Sir Patrick, I was fairly forced, at Craig Fernie, into +deceiving Blanche--in what might seem to her a very unfeeling, +and a very unpardonable way." + +"That sounds awkward! What do you mean?" + +"I'll try and tell you. You remember when you went to the inn to +see Miss Silvester? Well, being there privately at the time, of +course I was obliged to keep out of your way." + +"I see! And, when Blanche came afterward, you were obliged to +hide from Blanche, exactly as you had hidden from me?" + +"Worse even than that! A day or two later, Blanche took me into +her confidence. She spoke to me of her visit to the inn, as if I +was a perfect stranger to the circumstances. She told me to my +face, Sir Patrick, of the invisible man who had kept so strangely +out of her way--without the faintest suspicion that I was the +man. And I never opened my lips to set her right! I was obliged +to be silent, or I must have betrayed Miss Silvester. What will +Blanche think of me, if I tell her now? That's the question!" + +Blanche's name had barely passed her husband's lips before +Blanche herself verified Sir Patrick's prediction, by reappearing +at the open French window, with the superseded white hat in her +hand. + +"Haven't you done yet!" she exclaimed. "I am shocked, uncle, to +interrupt you again--but these horrid hats of Arnold's are +beginning to weigh upon my mind. On reconsideration, I think the +white hat with the low crown is the most becoming of the two. +Change again, dear. Yes! the brown hat is hideous. There's a +beggar at the gate. Before I go quite distracted, I shall give +him the brown hat, and have done with the difficulty in that +manner. Am I very much in the way of business? I'm afraid I must +appear restless? Indeed, I _am_ restless. I can't imagine what is +the matter with me this morning." + +"I can tell you," said Sir Patrick, in his gravest and dryest +manner. "You are suffering, Blanche, from a malady which is +exceedingly common among the young ladies of England. As a +disease it is quite incurable--and the name of it is +Nothing-to-Do." + +Blanche dropped her uncle a smart little courtesy. "You might +have told me I was in the way in fewer words than that." She +whisked round, kicked the disgraced brown hat out into the +veranda before her, and left the two gentlemen alone once more. + + + +"Your position with your wife, Arnold," resumed Sir Patrick, +returning gravely to the matter in hand, "is certainly a +difficult one." He paused, thinking of the evening when he and +Blanche had illustrated the vagueness of Mrs. Inchbare's +description of the man at the inn, by citing Arnold himself as +being one of the hundreds of innocent people who answered to it! +"Perhaps," he added, "the situation is even more difficult than +you suppose. It would have been certainly easier for _you_--and +it would have looked more honorable in _her_ estimation--if you +had made the inevitable confession before your marriage. I am, in +some degree, answerable for your not having done this--as well as +for the far more serious dilemma with Miss Silvester in which you +now stand. If I had not innocently hastened your marriage with +Blanche, Miss Silvester's admirable letter would have reached us +in ample time to prevent mischief. It's useless to dwell on that +now. Cheer up, Arnold! I am bound to show you the way out of the +labyrinth, no matter what the difficulties may be--and, please +God, I will do it!" + +He pointed to a table at the other end of the room, on which +writing materials were placed. "I hate moving the moment I have +had my breakfast," he said. "We won't go into the library. Bring +me the pen and ink here." + +"Are you going to write to Miss Silvester?" + +"That is the question before us which we have not settled yet. +Before I decide, I want to be in possession of the facts--down to +the smallest detail of what took place between you and Miss +Silvester at the inn. There is only one way of getting at those +facts. I am going to examine you as if I had you before me in the +witness-box in court." + +With that preface, and with Arnold's letter from Baden in his +hand as a brief to speak from, Sir Patrick put his questions in +clear and endless succession; and Arnold patiently and faithfully +answered them all. + +The examination proceeded uninterruptedly until it had reached +that point in the progress of events at which Anne had crushed +Geoffrey Delamayn's letter in her hand, and had thrown it from +her indignantly to the other end of the room. There, for the +first time, Sir Patrick dipped his pen in the ink, apparently +intending to take a note. "Be very careful here," he said; "I +want to know every thing that you can tell me about that letter." + +"The letter is lost," said Arnold. + +"The letter has been stolen by Bishopriggs," returned Sir +Patrick, "and is in the possession of Bishopriggs at this +moment." + +"Why, you know more about it than I do!" exclaimed Arnold. + +"I sincerely hope not. I don't know what was inside the letter. +Do you?" + +"Yes. Part of it at least." + +"Part of it?" + +"There were two letters written, on the same sheet of paper," +said Arnold. "One of them was written by Geoffrey Delamayn--and +that is the one I know about." + +Sir Patrick started. His face brightened; he made a hasty note. +"Go on," he said, eagerly. "How came the letters to be written on +the same sheet? Explain that!" + +Arnold explained that Geoffrey, in the absence of any thing else +to write his excuses on to Anne, had written to her on the fourth +or blank page of a letter which had been addressed to him by Anne +herself. + +"Did you read that letter?" asked Sir Patrick. + +"I might have read it if I had liked." + +"And you didn't read it?" + +"No." + +"Why?" + +"Out of delicacy." + +Even Sir Patrick's carefully trained temper was not proof against +this. "That is the most misplaced act of delicacy I ever heard of +in my life!" cried the old gentleman, warmly. "Never mind! it's +useless to regret it now. At any rate, you read Delamayn's answer +to Miss Silvester's letter?" + +"Yes--I did." + +"Repeat it--as nearly as you can remember at this distance of +time." + +"It was so short," said Arnold, "that there is hardly any thing +to repeat. As well as I remember, Geoffrey said he was called +away to London by his father's illness. He told Miss Silvester to +stop where she was; and he referred her to me, as messenger. +That's all I recollect of it now." + +"Cudgel your brains, my good fellow! this is very important. Did +he make no allusion to his engagement to marry Miss Silvester at +Craig Fernie? Didn't he try to pacify her by an apology of some +sort?" + +The question roused Arnold's memory to make another effort. + +"Yes," he answered. "Geoffrey said something about being true to +his engagement, or keeping his promise or words to that effect." + +"You're sure of what you say now?" + +"I am certain of it." + +Sir Patrick made another note. + +"Was the letter signed?" he asked, when he had done. + +"Yes." + +"And dated?" + +"Yes." Arnold's memory made a second effort, after he had given +his second affirmative answer. "Wait a little," he said. "I +remember something else about the letter. It was not only dated. +The time of day at which it was written was put as well." + +"How came he to do that?" + +"I suggested it. The letter was so short I felt ashamed to +deliver it as it stood. I told him to put the time--so as to show +her that he was obliged to write in a hurry. He put the time when +the train started; and (I think) the time when the letter was +written as well." + +"And you delivered that letter to Miss Silvester, with your own +hand, as soon as you saw her at the inn?" + +"I did." + +Sir Patrick made a third note, and pushed the paper away from him +with an air of supreme satisfaction. + +"I always suspected that lost letter to be an important +document," he said--"or Bishopriggs would never have stolen it. +We must get possession of it, Arnold, at any sacrifice. The first +thing to be done (exactly as I anticipated), is to write to the +Glasgow lawyer, and find Miss Silvester." + + + +"Wait a lit tle!" cried a voice at the veranda. "Don't forget +that I have come back from Baden to help you!" + +Sir Patrick and Arnold both looked up. This time Blanche had +heard the last words that had passed between them. She sat down +at the table by Sir Patrick's side, and laid her hand caressingly +on his shoulder. + +"You are quite right, uncle," she said. "I _am_ suffering this +morning from the malady of having nothing to do. Are you going to +write to Anne? Don't. Let me write instead." + +Sir Patrick declined to resign the pen. + +"The person who knows Miss Silvester's address," he said, "is a +lawyer in Glasgow. I am going to write to the lawyer. When he +sends us word where she is--then, Blanche, will be the time to +employ your good offices in winning back your friend." + +He drew the writing materials once more with in his reach, and, +suspending the remainder of Arnold's examination for the present, +began his letter to Mr. Crum. + +Blanche pleaded hard for an occupation of some sort. "Can nobody +give me something to do?" she asked. "Glasgow is such a long way +off, and waiting is such weary work. Don't sit there staring at +me, Arnold! Can't you suggest something?" + +Arnold, for once, displayed an unexpected readiness of resource. + +"If you want to write," he said, "you owe Lady Lundie a letter. +It's three days since you heard from her--and you haven't +answered her yet." + +Sir Patrick paused, and looked up quickly from his writing-desk. + +"Lady Lundie?" he muttered, inquiringly. + +"Yes," said Blanche. "It's quite true; I owe her a letter. And of +course I ought to tell her we have come back to England. She will +be finely provoked when she hears why!" + +The prospect of provoking Lady Lundie seemed to rouse Blanche s +dormant energies. She took a sheet of her uncle's note-paper, and +began writing her answer then and there. + +Sir Patrick completed his communication to the lawyer--after a +look at Blanche, which expressed any thing rather than approval +of her present employment. Having placed his completed note in +the postbag, he silently signed to Arnold to follow him into the +garden. They went out together, leaving Blanche absorbed over her +letter to her step-mother. + +"Is my wife doing any thing wrong?" asked Arnold, who had noticed +the look which Sir Patrick had cast on Blanche. + +"Your wife is making mischief as fast as her fingers can spread +it." + +Arnold stared. "She must answer Lady Lundie's letter," he said. + +"Unquestionably." + +"And she must tell Lady Lundie we have come back." + +"I don't deny it." + +"Then what is the objection to her writing?" + +Sir Patrick took a pinch of snuff--and pointed with his ivory +cane to the bees humming busily about the flower-beds in the +sunshine of the autumn morning. + +"I'll show you the objection," he said. "Suppose Blanche told one +of those inveterately intrusive insects that the honey in the +flowers happens, through an unexpected accident, to have come to +an end--do you think he would take the statement for granted? No. +He would plunge head-foremost into the nearest flower, and +investigate it for himself." + +"Well?" said Arnold. + +"Well--there is Blanche in the breakfast-room telling Lady Lundie +that the bridal tour happens, through an unexpected accident, to +have come to an end. Do you think Lady Lundie is the sort of +person to take the statement for granted? Nothing of the sort! +Lady Lundie, like the bee, will insist on investigating for +herself. How it will end, if she discovers the truth--and what +new complications she may not introduce into a matter which, +Heaven knows, is complicated enough already--I leave you to +imagine. _My_ poor powers of prevision are not equal to it." + +Before Arnold could answer, Blanche joined them from the +breakfast-room. + +"I've done it," she said. "It was an awkward letter to write--and +it's a comfort to have it over." + +"You have done it, my dear," remarked Sir Patrick, quietly. "And +it may be a comfort. But it's not over." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I think, Blanche, we shall hear from your step-mother by return +of post." + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-EIGHTH. + +THE NEWS FROM GLASGOW. + +THE letters to Lady Lundie and to Mr. Crum having been dispatched +on Monday, the return of the post might be looked for on +Wednesday afternoon at Ham Farm. + +Sir Patrick and Arnold held more than one private consultation, +during the interval, on the delicate and difficult subject of +admitting Blanche to a knowledge of what had happened. The wise +elder advised and the inexperienced junior listened. "Think of +it," said Sir Patrick; "and do it." And Arnold thought of it--and +left it undone. + +Let those who feel inclined to blame him remember that he had +only been married a fortnight. It is hard, surely, after but two +weeks' possession of your wife, to appear before her in the +character of an offender on trial--and to find that an angel of +retribution has been thrown into the bargain by the liberal +destiny which bestowed on you the woman whom you adore! + +They were all three at home on the Wednesday afternoon, looking +out for the postman. + +The correspondence delivered included (exactly as Sir Patrick had +foreseen) a letter from Lady Lundie. Further investigation, on +the far more interesting subject of the expected news from +Glasgow, revealed--nothing. The lawyer had not answered Sir +Patrick's inquiry by return of post. + +"Is that a bad sign?" asked Blanche. + +"It is a sign that something has happened," answered her uncle. +"Mr. Crum is possibly expecting to receive some special +information, and is waiting on the chance of being able to +communicate it. We must hope, my dear, in to-morrow's post." + +"Open Lady Lundie's letter in the mean time," said Blanche. "Are +you sure it is for you--and not for me?" + +There was no doubt about it. Her ladyship's reply was ominously +addressed to her ladyship's brother-in-law. "I know what that +means." said Blanche, eying her uncle eagerly while he was +reading the letter. "If you mention Anne's name you insult my +step-mother. I have mentioned it freely. Lady Lundie is mortally +offended with me." + +Rash judgment of youth! A lady who takes a dignified attitude, in +a family emergency, is never mortally offended--she is only +deeply grieved. Lady Lundie took a dignified attitude. "I well +know," wrote this estimable and Christian woman, "that I have +been all along regarded in the light of an intruder by the family +connections of my late beloved husband. But I was hardly prepared +to find myself entirely shut out from all domestic confidence, at +a time when some serious domestic catastrophe has but too +evidently taken place. I have no desire, dear Sir Patrick, to +intrude. Feeling it, however, to be quite inconsistent with a due +regard for my own position--after what has happened--to +correspond with Blanche, I address myself to the head of the +family, purely in the interests of propriety. Permit me to ask +whether--under circumstances which appear to be serious enough to +require the recall of my step-daughter and her husband from their +wedding tour--you think it DECENT to keep the widow of the late +Sir Thomas Lundie entirely in the dark? Pray consider this--not +at all out of regard for Me!--but out of regard for your own +position with Society. Curiosity is, as you know, foreign to my +nature. But when this dreadful scandal (whatever it may be) comes +out--which, dear Sir Patrick, it can not fail to do--what will +the world think, when it asks for Lady Lundie's, opinion, and +hears that Lady Lundie knew nothing about it? Whichever way you +may decide I shall take no offense. I may possibly be +wounded--but that won't matter. My little round of duties will +find me still earnest, still cheerful. And even if you shut me +out, my best wishes will find their way, nevertheless, to Ham +Farm. May I add--without encountering a sneer--that the prayers +of a lonely woman are offered for the welfare of all?" + +"Well?" said Blanche. + +Sir Patrick folded up the letter, and put it in his pocket. + +"You have your step-mother's best wishes, my dear." Having +answered in those terms, he bowed to his niece with his best +grace, and walked out of the room. + +"Do I think it decent," he repeated to himself, as he closed the +door, "to leave the widow of the late Sir Thomas Lundie in the +dark? When a lady's temper is a little ruffled, I think it more +than decent, I think it absolutely desirable, to let that lady +have the last word." He went into the library, and dropped his +sister-in-law's remonstrance into a box, labeled "Unanswered +Letters." Having got rid of it in that way, he hummed his +favorite little Scotch air--and put on his hat, and went out to +sun himself in the garden. + +Meanwhile, Blanche was not quite satisfied with Sir Patrick's +reply. She appealed to her husband. "There is something wrong," +she said--"and my uncle is hiding it from me." + +Arnold could have desired no better opportunity than she had +offered to him, in those words, for making the long-deferred +disclosure to her of the truth. He lifted his eyes to Blanche's +face. By an unhappy fatality she was looking charmingly that +morning. How would she look if he told her the story of the +hiding at the inn? Arnold was still in love with her--and Arnold +said nothing. + + + +The next day's post brought not only the anticipated letter from +Mr. Crum, but an unexpected Glasgow newspaper as well. + +This time Blanche had no reason to complain that her uncle kept +his correspondence a secret from her. After reading the lawyer's +letter, with an interest and agitation which showed that the +contents had taken him by surprise, he handed it to Arnold and +his niece. "Bad news there," he said. "We must share it +together." + +After acknowledging the receipt of Sir Patrick's letter of +inquiry, Mr. Crum began by stating all that he knew of Miss +Silvester's movements--dating from the time when she had left the +Sheep's Head Hotel. About a fortnight since he had received a +letter from her informing him that she had found a suitable place +of residence in a village near Glasgow. Feeling a strong interest +in Miss Silvester, Mr. Crum had visited her some few days +afterward. He had satisfied himself that she was lodging with +respectable people, and was as comfortably situated as +circumstances would permit. For a week more he had heard nothing +from the lady. At the expiration of that time he had received a +letter from her, telling him that she had read something in a +Glasgow newspaper, of that day's date, which seriously concerned +herself, and which would oblige her to travel northward +immediately as fast as her strength would permit. At a later +period, when she would be more certain of her own movements, she +engaged to write again, and let Mr. Crum know where he might +communicate with her if necessary. In the mean time, she could +only thank him for his kindness, and beg him to take care of any +letters or messages which might be left for her. Since the +receipt of this communication the lawyer had heard nothing +further. He had waited for the morning's post in the hope of +being able to report that he had received some further +intelligence. The hope had not been realized. He had now stated +all that he knew himself thus far--and he had forwarded a copy of +the newspaper alluded to by Miss Silvester, on the chance that an +examination of it by Sir Patrick might possibly lead to further +discoveries. In conclusion, he pledged himself to write again the +moment he had any information to send. + +Blanche snatched up the newspaper, and opened it. "Let me look!" +she said. "I can find what Anne saw here if any body can!" + +She ran her eye eagerly over column after column and page after +page--and dropped the newspaper on her lap with a gesture of +despair. + +"Nothing!" she exclaimed. "Nothing any where, that I can see, to +interest Anne. Nothing to interest any body--except Lady Lundie," +she went on, brushing the newspaper off her lap. "It turns out to +be all true, Arnold, at Swanhaven. Geoffrey Delamayn is going to +marry Mrs. Glenarm." + +"What!" cried Arnold; the idea instantly flashing on him that +this was the news which Anne had seen. + +Sir Patrick gave him a warning look, and picked up the newspaper +from the floor. + +"I may as well run through it, Blanche, and make quite sure that +you have missed nothing," he said. + +The report to which Blanche had referred was among the paragraphs +arranged under the heading of "Fashionable News." "A matrimonial +alliance" (the Glasgow journal announced) "was in prospect +between the Honorable Geoffrey Delamayn and the lovely and +accomplished relict of the late Mathew Glenarm, Esq., formerly +Miss Newenden." The, marriage would, in all probability, "be +solemnized in Scotland, before the end of the present autumn;" +and the wedding breakfast, it was whispered, "would collect a +large and fashionable party at Swanhaven Lodge." + +Sir Patrick handed the newspaper silently to Arnold. It was plain +to any one who knew Anne Silvester's story that those were the +words which had found their fatal way to her in her place of +rest. The inference that followed seemed to be hardly less clear. +But one intelligible object, in the opinion of Sir Patrick, could +be at the end of her journey to the north. The deserted woman had +rallied the last relics of her old energy--and had devoted +herself to the desperate purpose of stopping the marriage of Mrs. +Glenarm. + +Blanche was the first to break the silence. + +"It seems like a fatality," she said. "Perpetual failure! +Perpetual disappointment! Are Anne and I doomed never to meet +again?" + +She looked at her uncle. Sir Patrick showed none of his customary +cheerfulness in the face of disaster. + +"She has promised to write to Mr. Crum," he said. "And Mr. Crum +has promised to let us know when he hears from her. That is the +only prospect before us. We must accept it as resignedly as we +can." + +Blanche wandered out listlessly among the flowers in the +conservatory. Sir Patrick made no secret of the impression +produced upon him by Mr. Crum's letter, when he and Arnold were +left alone. + +"There is no denying," he said, "that matters have taken a very +serious turn. My plans and calculations are all thrown out. It is +impossible to foresee what new mischief may not come of it, if +those two women meet; or what desperate act Delamayn may not +commit, if he finds himself driven to the wall. As things are, I +own frankly I don't know what to do next. A great light of the +Presbyterian Church," he added, with a momentary outbreak of his +whimsical humor, "once declared, in my hearing, that the +invention of printing was nothing more or less than a proof of +the intellectual activity of the Devil. Upon my honor, I feel for +the first time in my life inclined to agree with him." + +He mechanically took up the Glasgow journal, which Arnold had +laid aside, while he spoke. + +"What's this!" he exclaimed, as a name caught his eye in the +first line of the newspaper at which he happened to look. "Mrs. +Glenarm again! Are they turning the iron-master's widow into a +public character?" + +There the name of the widow was, unquestionably; figuring for the +second time in type, in a letter of the gossiping sort, supplied +by an "Occasional Correspondent," and distinguished by the title +of "Sayings and Doings in the North." After tattling pleasantly +of the prospects of the shooting season, of the fashions from +Paris, of an accident to a tourist, and of a scandal in the +Scottish Kirk, the writer proceeded to the narrative of a case of +interest, relating to a marriage in the sphere known (in the +language of footmen) as the sphere of "high life." + +Considerable sensation (the correspondent announced) had been +caused in Perth and its neighborhood, by the exposure of an +anonymous attempt at extortion, of which a lady of distinction +had lately been made the object. As her name had already been +publicly mentioned in an application to the magistrates, there +could be no impropriety in stating that the lady in question was +Mrs. Glenarm--whose approaching union with the Honorable Geoffrey +Delamayn was alluded to in another column of the journal. + +Mrs. Glenarm had, it appeared, received an anonymous letter, on +the first day of her arrival as guest at the house of a friend, +residing in the neighborhood of Perth. The letter warned her that +there was an obstacle, of which she was herself probably not +aware, in the way of her projected marriage with Mr. Geoffrey +Delamayn. That gentleman had seriously compr omised himself with +another lady; and the lady would oppose his marriage to Mrs. +Glenarm, with proof in writing to produce in support of her +claim. The proof was contained in two letters exchanged between +the parties, and signed by their names; and the correspondence +was placed at Mrs. Glenarm's disposal, on two conditions, as +follows: + +First, that she should offer a sufficiently liberal price to +induce the present possessor of the letters to part with them. +Secondly, that she should consent to adopt such a method of +paying the money as should satisfy the person that he was in no +danger of finding himself brought within reach of the law. The +answer to these two proposals was directed to be made through the +medium of an advertisement in the local newspaper--distinguished +by this address, "To a Friend in the Dark." + +Certain turns of expression, and one or two mistakes in spelling, +pointed to this insolent letter as being, in all probability, the +production of a Scotchman, in the lower ranks of life. Mrs. +Glenarm had at once shown it to her nearest relative, Captain +Newenden. The captain had sought legal advice in Perth. It had +been decided, after due consideration, to insert the +advertisement demanded, and to take measures to entrap the writer +of the letter into revealing himself--without, it is needless to +add, allowing the fellow really to profit by his attempted act of +extortion. + +The cunning of the "Friend in the Dark" (whoever he might be) +had, on trying the proposed experiment, proved to be more than a +match for the lawyers. He had successfully eluded not only the +snare first set for him, but others subsequently laid. A second, +and a third, anonymous letter, one more impudent than the other +had been received by Mrs. Glenarm, assuring that lady and the +friends who were acting for her that they were only wasting time +and raising the price which would be asked for the +correspondence, by the course they were taking. Captain Newenden +had thereupon, in default of knowing what other course to pursue, +appealed publicly to the city magistrates, and a reward had been +offered, under the sanction of the municipal authorities, for the +discovery of the man. This proceeding also having proved quite +fruitless, it was understood that the captain had arranged, with +the concurrence of his English solicitors, to place the matter in +the hands of an experienced officer of the London police. + +Here, so far as the newspaper correspondent was aware, the affair +rested for the present. + +It was only necessary to add, that Mrs. Glenarm had left the +neighborhood of Perth, in order to escape further annoyance; and +had placed herself under the protection of friends in another +part of the county. Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn, whose fair fame had +been assailed (it was needless, the correspondent added in +parenthesis, to say how groundlessly), was understood to have +expressed, not only the indignation natural under the +circumstances but also his extreme regret at not finding himself +in a position to aid Captain Newenden's efforts to bring the +anonymous slanderer to justice. The honorable gentleman was, as +the sporting public were well aware, then in course of strict +training for his forthcoming appearance at the Fulham Foot-Race. +So important was it considered that his mind should not be +harassed by annoyances, in his present responsible position, that +his trainer and his principal backers had thought it desirable to +hasten his removal to the neighborhood of Fulham--where the +exercises which were to prepare him for the race were now being +continued on the spot. + + + +"The mystery seems to thicken," said Arnold. + +"Quite the contrary," returned Sir Patrick, briskly. "The mystery +is clearing fast--thanks to the Glasgow newspaper. I shall be +spared the trouble of dealing with Bishopriggs for the stolen +letter. Miss Silvester has gone to Perth, to recover her +correspondence with Geoffrey Delamayn." + +"Do you think she would recognize it," said Arnold, pointing to +the newspaper, "in the account given of it here?" + +"Certainly! And she could hardly fail, in my opinion, to get a +step farther than that. Unless I am entirely mistaken, the +authorship of the anonymous letters has not mystified _her._" + +"How could she guess at that?" + +"In this way, as I think. Whatever she may have previously +thought, she must suspect, by this time, that the missing +correspondence has been stolen, and not lost. Now, there are only +two persons whom she can think of, as probably guilty of the +theft--Mrs. Inchbare or Bishopriggs. The newspaper description of +the style of the anonymous letters declares it to be the style of +a Scotchman in the lower ranks of life--in other words, points +plainly to Bishopriggs. You see that? Very well. Now suppose she +recovers the stolen property. What is likely to happen then? She +will be more or less than woman if she doesn't make her way next, +provided with her proofs in writing, to Mrs. Glenarm. She may +innocently help, or she may innocently frustrate, the end we have +in view--either way, our course is clear before us again. Our +interest in communicating with Miss Silvester remains precisely +the same interest that it was before we received the Glasgow +newspaper. I propose to wait till Sunday, on the chance that Mr. +Crum may write again. If we don't hear from him, I shall start +for Scotland on Monday morning, and take my chance of finding my +way to Miss Silvester, through Mrs. Glenarm." + +"Leaving me behind?" + +"Leaving you behind. Somebody must stay with Blanche. After +having only been a fortnight married, must I remind you of that?" + +"Don't you think Mr. Crum will write before Monday?" + +"It will be such a fortunate circumstance for us, if he does +write, that I don't venture to anticipate it." + +"You are down on our luck, Sir." + +"I detest slang, Arnold. But slang, I own, expresses my state of +mind, in this instance, with an accuracy which almost reconciles +me to the use of it--for once in a way." + +"Every body's luck turns sooner or later," persisted Arnold. "I +can't help thinking our luck is on the turn at last. Would you +mind taking a bet, Sir Patrick?" + +"Apply at the stables. I leave betting, as I leave cleaning the +horses, to my groom." + +With that crabbed answer he closed the conversation for the day. + +The hours passed, and time brought the post again in due +course--and the post decided in Arnold's favor! Sir Patrick's +want of confidence in the favoring patronage of Fortune was +practically rebuked by the arrival of a second letter from the +Glasgow lawyer on the next day. + +"I have the pleasure of announcing" (Mr. Crum wrote) "that I have +heard from Miss Silvester, by the next postal delivery ensuing, +after I had dispatched my letter to Ham Farm. She writes, very +briefly, to inform me that she has decided on establishing her +next place of residence in London. The reason assigned for taking +this step--which she certainly did not contemplate when I last +saw her--is that she finds herself approaching the end of her +pecuniary resources. Having already decided on adopting, as a +means of living, the calling of a concert-singer, she has +arranged to place her interests in the hands of an old friend of +her late mother (who appears to have belonged also to the musical +profession): a dramatic and musical agent long established in the +metropolis, and well known to her as a trustworthy and +respectable man. She sends me the name and address of this +person--a copy of which you will find on the inclosed slip of +paper--in the event of my having occasion to write to her, before +she is settled in London. This is the whole substance of her +letter. I have only to add, that it does not contain the +slightest allusion to the nature of the errand on which she left +Glasgow." + + + +Sir Patrick happened to be alone when he opened Mr. Crum's +letter. + +His first proceeding, after reading it, was to consult the +railway time-table hanging in the hall. Having done this, he +returned to the library--wrote a short note of inquiry, addressed +to the musical agent--and rang the bell. + +"Miss Silvester is expected in London, Duncan. I want a discreet +person to communicate with her. You are the person." + +Duncan bowed. Sir Pa trick handed him the note. + +"If you start at once you will be in time to catch the train. Go +to that address, and inquire for Miss Silvester. If she has +arrived, give her my compliments, and say I will have the honor +of calling on her (on Mr. Brinkworth's behalf) at the earliest +date which she may find it convenient to appoint. Be quick about +it--and you will have time to get back before the last train. +Have Mr. and Mrs. Brinkworth returned from their drive?" + +"No, Sir Patrick." + +Pending the return of Arnold and Blanche, Sir Patrick looked at +Mr. Crum's letter for the second time. + +He was not quite satisfied that the pecuniary motive was really +the motive at the bottom of Anne's journey south. Remembering +that Geoffrey's trainers had removed him to the neighborhood of +London, he was inclined to doubt whether some serious quarrel had +not taken place between Anne and Mrs. Glenarm--and whether some +direct appeal to Geoffrey himself might not be in contemplation +as the result. In that event, Sir Patrick's advice and assistance +would be placed, without scruple, at Miss Silvester's disposal. +By asserting her claim, in opposition to the claim of Mrs. +Glenarm, she was also asserting herself to be an unmarried woman, +and was thus serving Blanche's interests as well as her own. "I +owe it to Blanche to help her," thought Sir Patrick. "And I owe +it to myself to bring Geoffrey Delamayn to a day of reckoning if +I can." + +The barking of the dogs in the yard announced the return of the +carriage. Sir Patrick went out to meet Arnold and Blanche at the +gate, and tell them the news. + + + +Punctual to the time at which he was expected, the discreet +Duncan reappeared with a note from the musical agent. + +Miss Silvester had not yet reached London; but she was expected +to arrive not later than Tuesday in the ensuing week. The agent +had already been favored with her instructions to pay the +strictest attention to any commands received from Sir Patrick +Lundie. He would take care that Sir Patrick's message should be +given to Miss Silvester as soon as she arrived. + +At last, then, there was news to be relied on! At last there was +a prospect of seeing her! Blanche was radiant with happiness, +Arnold was in high spirits for the first time since his return +from Baden. + +Sir Patrick tried hard to catch the infection of gayety from his +young friends; but, to his own surprise, not less than to theirs, +the effort proved fruitless. With the tide of events turning +decidedly in his favor--relieved of the necessity of taking a +doubtful journey to Scotland; assured of obtaining his interview +with Anne in a few days' time--he was out of spirits all through +the evening. + +"Still down on our luck!" exclaimed Arnold, as he and his host +finished their last game of billiards, and parted for the night. +"Surely, we couldn't wish for a more promising prospect than +_our_ prospect next week?" + +Sir Patrick laid his hand on Arnold's shoulder. + +"Let us look indulgently together," he said, in his whimsically +grave way, "at the humiliating spectacle of an old man's folly. I +feel, at this moment, Arnold, as if I would give every thing that +I possess in the world to have passed over next week, and to be +landed safely in the time beyond it." + +"But why?" + +"There is the folly! I can't tell why. With every reason to be in +better spirits than usual, I am unaccountably, irrationally, +invincibly depressed. What are we to conclude from that? Am I the +object of a supernatural warning of misfortune to come? Or am I +the object of a temporary derangement of the functions of the +liver? There is the question. Who is to decide it? How +contemptible is humanity, Arnold, rightly understood! Give me my +candle, and let's hope it's the liver." + + +EIGHTH SCENE--THE PANTRY. + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-NINTH. + +ANNE WINS A VICTORY. + +ON a certain evening in the month of September (at that period of +the month when Arnold and Blanche were traveling back from Baden +to Ham Farm) an ancient man--with one eye filmy and blind, and +one eye moist and merry--sat alone in the pantry of the Harp of +Scotland Inn, Perth, pounding the sugar softly in a glass of +whisky-punch. He has hitherto been personally distinguished in +these pages as the self-appointed father of Anne Silvester and +the humble servant of Blanche at the dance at Swanhaven Lodge. He +now dawns on the view in amicable relations with a third +lady--and assumes the mystic character of Mrs. Glenarm's "Friend +in the Dark." + +Arriving in Perth the day after the festivities at Swanhaven, +Bishopriggs proceeded to the Harp of Scotland--at which +establishment for the reception of travelers he possessed the +advantage of being known to the landlord as Mrs. Inchbare's +right-hand man, and of standing high on the head-waiter's list of +old and intimate friends. + +Inquiring for the waiter first by the name of Thomas (otherwise +Tammy) Pennyquick, Bishopriggs found his friend in sore distress +of body and mind. Contending vainly against the disabling +advances of rheumatism, Thomas Pennyquick ruefully contemplated +the prospect of being laid up at home by a long illness--with a +wife and children to support, and with the emoluments attached to +his position passing into the pockets of the first stranger who +could be found to occupy his place at the inn. + +Hearing this doleful story, Bishopriggs cunningly saw his way to +serving his own private interests by performing the part of +Thomas Pennyquick's generous and devoted friend. + +He forthwith offered to fill the place, without taking the +emoluments, of the invalided headwaiter--on the understanding, as +a matter of course, that the landlord consented to board and +lodge him free of expense at the inn. The landlord having readily +accepted this condition, Thomas Pennyquick retired to the bosom +of his family. And there was Bishopriggs, doubly secured behind a +respectable position and a virtuous action against all likelihood +of suspicion falling on him as a stranger in Perth--in the event +of his correspondence with Mrs. Glenarm being made the object of +legal investigation on the part of her friends! + +Having opened the campaign in this masterly manner, the same +sagacious foresight had distinguished the operations of +Bishopriggs throughout. + +His correspondence with Mrs. Glenarm was invariably written with +the left hand--the writing thus produced defying detection, in +all cases, as bearing no resemblance of character whatever to +writing produced by persons who habitually use the other hand. A +no less far-sighted cunning distinguished his proceedings in +answering the advertisements which the lawyers duly inserted in +the newspaper. He appointed hours at which he was employed on +business-errands for the inn, and places which lay on the way to +those errands, for his meetings with Mrs. Glenarm's +representatives: a pass-word being determined on, as usual in +such cases, by exchanging which the persons concerned could +discover each other. However carefully the lawyers might set the +snare--whether they had their necessary "witness" disguised as an +artist sketching in the neighborhood, or as an old woman selling +fruit, or what not--the wary eye of Bishopriggs detected it. He +left the pass-word unspoken; he went his way on his errand; he +was followed on suspicion; and he was discovered to be only "a +respectable person," charged with a message by the landlord of +the Harp of Scotland Inn! + +To a man intrenched behind such precautions as these, the chance +of being detected might well be reckoned among the last of all +the chances that could possibly happen. + +Discovery was, nevertheless, advancing on Bishopriggs from a +quarter which had not been included in his calculations. Anne +Silvester was in Perth; forewarned by the newspaper (as Sir +Patrick had guessed) that the letters offered to Mrs. Glenarm +were the letters between Geoffrey and herself, which she had lost +at Craig Fernie, and bent on clearing up the suspicion which +pointed to Bishopriggs as the person who was trying to turn the +correspondence to pecuniary account. The inquiries made for him, +at Anne's request, as soon as she arrived in the town, openly +described his name, and his former position as headwaiter at +Craig Fernie--and thu s led easily to the discovery of him, in +his publicly avowed character of Thomas Pennyquick's devoted +friend. Toward evening, on the day after she reached Perth, the +news came to Anne that Bishopriggs was in service at the inn +known as the Harp of Scotland. The landlord of the hotel at which +she was staying inquired whether he should send a message for +her. She answered, "No, I will take my message myself. All I want +is a person to show me the way to the inn." + + + +Secluded in the solitude of the head-waiter's pantry, Bishopriggs +sat peacefully melting the sugar in his whisky-punch. + +It was the hour of the evening at which a period of tranquillity +generally occurred before what was called "the night-business" of +the house began. Bishopriggs was accustomed to drink and meditate +daily in this interval of repose. He tasted the punch, and smiled +contentedly as he set down his glass. The prospect before him +looked fairly enough. He had outwitted the lawyers in the +preliminary negotiations thus far. All that was needful now was +to wait till the terror of a public scandal (sustained by +occasional letters from her "Friend in the Dark") had its due +effect on Mrs. Glenarm, and hurried her into paying the +purchase-money for the correspondence with her own hand. "Let it +breed in the brain," he thought, "and the siller will soon come +out o' the purse." + +His reflections were interrupted by the appearance of a slovenly +maid-servant, with a cotton handkerchief tied round her head, and +an uncleaned sauce-pan in her hand. + +"Eh, Maister Bishopriggs," cried the girl, "here's a braw young +leddy speerin' for ye by yer ain name at the door." + +"A leddy?" repeated Bishopriggs, with a look of virtuous disgust. +"Ye donnert ne'er-do-weel, do you come to a decent, 'sponsible +man like me, wi' sic a Cyprian overture as that? What d'ye tak' +me for? Mark Antony that lost the world for love (the mair fule +he!)? or Don Jovanny that counted his concubines by hundreds, +like the blessed Solomon himself? Awa' wi' ye to yer pots and +pans; and bid the wandering Venus that sent ye go spin!" + +Before the girl could answer she was gently pulled aside from the +doorway, and Bishopriggs, thunder-struck, saw Anne Silvester +standing in her place. + +"You had better tell the servant I am no stranger to you," said +Anne, looking toward the kitchen-maid, who stood in the passage +staring at her in stolid amazement. + +"My ain sister's child!" cried Bishopriggs, lying with his +customary readiness. "Go yer ways, Maggie. The bonny lassie's my +ain kith and kin. The tongue o' scandal, I trow, has naething to +say against that.--Lord save us and guide us!" he added In +another tone, as the girl closed the door on them, "what brings +ye here?" + +"I have something to say to you. I am not very well; I must wait +a little first. Give me a chair." + +Bishopriggs obeyed in silence. His one available eye rested on +Anne, as he produced the chair, with an uneasy and suspicious +attention. "I'm wanting to know one thing," he said. "By what +meeraiculous means, young madam, do ye happen to ha' fund yer way +to this inn?" + +Anne told him how her inquiries had been made and what the result +had been, plainly and frankly. The clouded face of Bishopriggs +began to clear again. + +"Hech! hech!" he exclaimed, recovering all his native impudence, +"I hae had occasion to remark already, to anither leddy than +yersel', that it's seemply mairvelous hoo a man's ain gude deeds +find him oot in this lower warld o' ours. I hae dune a gude deed +by pure Tammy Pennyquick, and here's a' Pairth ringing wi the +report o' it; and Sawmuel Bishopriggs sae weel known that ony +stranger has only to ask, and find him. Understand, I beseech ye, +that it's no hand o' mine that pets this new feather in my cap. +As a gude Calvinist, my saul's clear o' the smallest figment o' +belief in Warks. When I look at my ain celeebrity I joost ask, as +the Psawmist asked before me, 'Why do the heathen rage, and the +people imagine a vain thing?' It seems ye've something to say to +me," he added, suddenly reverting to the object of Anne's visit. +"Is it humanly possible that ye can ha' come a' the way to Pairth +for naething but that?" + +The expression of suspicion began to show itself again in his +face. Concealing as she best might the disgust that he inspired +in her, Anne stated her errand in the most direct manner, and in +the fewest possible words. + +"I have come here to ask you for something," she said. + +"Ay? ay? What may it be ye're wanting of me?" + +"I want the letter I lost at Craig Fernie." + +Even the solidly-founded self-possession of Bishopriggs himself +was shaken by the startling directness of that attack on it. His +glib tongue was paralyzed for the moment. "I dinna ken what ye're +drivin' at," he said, after an interval, with a sullen +consciousness that he had been all but tricked into betraying +himself. + +The change in his manner convinced Anne that she had found in +Bishopriggs the person of whom she was in search. + +"You have got my letter," she said, sternly insisting on the +truth. "And you are trying to turn it to a disgraceful use. I +won't allow you to make a market of my private affairs. You have +offered a letter of mine for sale to a stranger. I insist on your +restoring it to me before I leave this room!" + +Bishopriggs hesitated again. His first suspicion that Anne had +been privately instructed by Mrs. Glenarm's lawyers returned to +his mind as a suspicion confirmed. He felt the vast importance of +making a cautious reply. + +"I'll no' waste precious time," he said, after a moment's +consideration with himself, "in brushing awa' the fawse breath o' +scandal, when it passes my way. It blaws to nae purpose, my young +leddy, when it blaws on an honest man like me. Fie for shame on +ye for saying what ye've joost said--to me that was a fether to +ye at Craig Fernie! Wha' set ye on to it? Will it be man or woman +that's misca'ed me behind my back?" + +Anne took the Glasgow newspaper from the pocket of her traveling +cloak, and placed it before him, open at the paragraph which +described the act of extortion attempted on Mrs. Glenarm. + +"I have found there," she said, "all that I want to know." + +"May a' the tribe o' editors, preenters, paper-makers, +news-vendors, and the like, bleeze together in the pit o' +Tophet!" With this devout aspiration--internally felt, not openly +uttered--Bishopriggs put on his spectacles, and read the passage +pointed out to him. "I see naething here touching the name o' +Sawmuel Bishopriggs, or the matter o' ony loss ye may or may not +ha' had at Craig Fernie," he said, when he had done; still +defending his position, with a resolution worthy of a better +cause. + +Anne's pride recoiled at the prospect of prolonging the +discussion with him. She rose to her feet, and said her last +words. + +"I have learned enough by this time," she answered, "to know that +the one argument that prevails with you is the argument of money. +If money will spare me the hateful necessity of disputing with +you--poor as I am, money you shall have. Be silent, if you +please. You are personally interested in what I have to say +next." + +She opened her purse, and took a five-pound note from it. + +"If you choose to own the truth, and produce the letter," she +resumed, "I will give you this, as your reward for finding, and +restoring to me, something that I had lost. If you persist in +your present prevarication, I can, and will, make that sheet of +note-paper you have stolen from me nothing but waste paper in +your hands. You have threatened Mrs. Glenarm with my +interference. Suppose I go to Mrs. Glenarm? Suppose I interfere +before the week is out? Suppose I have other letters of Mr. +Delamayn's in my possession, and produce them to speak for me? +What has Mrs. Glenarm to purchase of you _then?_ Answer me that!" + +The color rose on her pale face. Her eyes, dim and weary when she +entered the room, looked him brightly through and through in +immeasurable contempt. "Answer me that!" she repeated, with a +burst of her old energy which revealed the fire and passion of +the woman's nature, not quenched even yet! + +If Bishopriggs had a merit, it was a rare merit, as men go, of +knowing when he was beaten. If he had an accomplis hment, it was +the accomplishment of retiring defeated, with all the honors of +war. + +"Mercy presairve us!" he exclaimed, in the most innocent manner. +"Is it even You Yersel' that writ the letter to the man ca'ed +Jaffray Delamayn, and got the wee bit answer in pencil on the +blank page? Hoo, in Heeven's name, was I to know _that_ was the +letter ye were after when ye cam' in here? Did ye ever tell me ye +were Anne Silvester, at the hottle? Never ance! Was the puir +feckless husband-creature ye had wi' ye at the inn, Jaffray +Delamayn? Jaffray wad mak' twa o' him, as my ain eyes ha' seen. +Gi' ye back yer letter? My certie! noo I know it is yer letter, +I'll gi' it back wi' a' the pleasure in life!" + +He opened his pocket-book, and took it out, with an alacrity +worthy of the honestest man in Christendom--and (more wonderful +still) he looked with a perfectly assumed expression of +indifference at the five-pound note in Anne's hand. + +"Hoot! toot!" he said, "I'm no' that clear in my mind that I'm +free to tak' yer money. Eh, weel! weel! I'll een receive it, if +ye like, as a bit Memento o' the time when I was o' some sma' +sairvice to ye at the hottle. Ye'll no' mind," he added, suddenly +returning to business, "writin' me joost a line--in the way o' +receipt, ye ken--to clear me o' ony future suspicion in the +matter o' the letter?" + +Anne threw down the bank-note on the table near which they were +standing, and snatched the letter from him. + +"You need no receipt," she answered. "There shall be no letter to +bear witness against you!" + +She lifted her other hand to tear it in pieces. Bishopriggs +caught her by both wrists, at the same moment, and held her fast. + +"Bide a wee!" he said. "Ye don't get the letter, young madam, +without the receipt. It may be a' the same to _you,_ now ye've +married the other man, whether Jaffray Delamayn ance promised ye +fair in the by-gone time, or no. But, my certie! it's a matter o' +some moment to _me,_ that ye've chairged wi' stealin' the letter, +and making a market o't, and Lord knows what besides, that I suld +hae yer ain acknowledgment for it in black and white. Gi' me my +bit receipt--and een do as ye will with yer letter after that!" + +Anne's hold of the letter relaxed. She let Bishopriggs repossess +himself of it as it dropped on the floor between them, without +making an effort to prevent him. + +"It may be a' the same to _you,_ now ye've married the other man, +whether Jaffray Delamayn ance promised ye fair in the by-gone +time, or no." Those words presented Anne's position before her in +a light in which she had not seen it yet. She had truly expressed +the loathing that Geoffrey now inspired in her, when she had +declared, in her letter to Arnold, that, even if he offered her +marriage, in atonement for the past, she would rather be what she +was than be his wife. It had never occurred to her, until this +moment, that others would misinterpret the sensitive pride which +had prompted the abandonment of her claim on the man who had +ruined her. It had never been brought home to her until now, that +if she left him contemptuously to go his own way, and sell +himself to the first woman who had money enough to buy him, her +conduct would sanction the false conclusion that she was +powerless to interfere, because she was married already to +another man. The color that had risen in her face vanished, and +left it deadly pale again. She began to see that the purpose of +her journey to the north was not completed yet. + +"I will give you your receipt," she said. "Tell me what to write, +and it shall be written." + +Bishopriggs dictated the receipt. She wrote and signed it. He put +it in his pocket-book with the five-pound note, and handed her +the letter in exchange. + +"Tear it if ye will," he said. "It matters naething to _me._" + +For a moment she hesitated. A sudden shuddering shook her from +head to foot--the forewarning, it might be, of the influence +which that letter, saved from destruction by a hair's-breadth, +was destined to exercise on her life to come. She recovered +herself, and folded her cloak closer to her, as if she had felt a +passing chill. + +"No," she said; "I will keep the letter." + +She folded it and put it in the pocket of her dress. Then turned +to go--and stopped at the door. + +"One thing more," she added. "Do you know Mrs. Glenarm's present +address?" + +"Ye're no' reely going to Mistress Glenarm?" + +"That is no concern of yours. You can answer my question or not, +as you please." + +"Eh, my leddy! yer temper's no' what it used to be in the auld +times at the hottle. Aweel! aweel! ye ha' gi'en me yer money, and +I'll een gi' ye back gude measure for it, on my side. Mistress +Glenarm's awa' in private--incog, as they say--to Jaffray +Delamayn's brither at Swanhaven Lodge. Ye may rely on the +information, and it's no' that easy to come at either. They've +keepit it a secret as they think from a' the warld. Hech! hech! +Tammy Pennyquick's youngest but twa is page-boy at the hoose +where the leddy's been veesitin', on the outskirts o' Pairth. +Keep a secret if ye can frae the pawky ears o' yer domestics in +the servants' hall!--Eh! she's aff, without a word at parting!" +he exclaimed, as Anne left him without ceremony in the middle of +his dissertation on secrets and servants' halls. "I trow I ha' +gaen out for wool, and come back shorn," he added, reflecting +grimly on the disastrous overthrow of the promising speculation +on which he had embarked. "My certie! there was naething left +for't, when madam's fingers had grippit me, but to slip through +them as cannily as I could. What's Jaffray's marrying, or no' +marrying, to do wi' _her?_" he wondered, reverting to the +question which Anne had put to him at parting. "And whar's the +sense o' her errand, if she's reely bent on finding her way to +Mistress Glenarm?" + +Whatever the sense of her errand might be, Anne's next proceeding +proved that she was really bent on it. After resting two days, +she left Perth by the first train in the morning, for Swanhaven +Lodge. + + +NINTH SCENE.--THE MUSIC-ROOM. + +CHAPTER THE FORTIETH. + +JULIUS MAKES MISCHIEF. + +JULIUS DELAMAYN was alone, idly sauntering to and fro, with his +violin in his hand, on the terrace at Swanhaven Lodge. + +The first mellow light of evening was in the sky. It was the +close of the day on which Anne Silvester had left Perth. + +Some hours earlier, Julius had sacrificed himself to the duties +of his political position--as made for him by his father. He had +submitted to the dire necessity of delivering an oration to the +electors, at a public meeting in the neighboring town of +Kirkandrew. A detestable atmosphere to breathe; a disorderly +audience to address; insolent opposition to conciliate; imbecile +inquiries to answer; brutish interruptions to endure; greedy +petitioners to pacify; and dirty hands to shake: these are the +stages by which the aspiring English gentleman is compelled to +travel on the journey which leads him from the modest obscurity +of private life to the glorious publicity of the House of +Commons. Julius paid the preliminary penalties of a political +first appearance, as exacted by free institutions, with the +necessary patience; and returned to the welcome shelter of home, +more indifferent, if possible, to the attractions of +Parliamentary distinction than when he set out. The discord of +the roaring "people" (still echoing in his ears) had sharpened +his customary sensibility to the poetry of sound, as composed by +Mozart, and as interpreted by piano and violin. Possessing +himself of his beloved instrument, he had gone out on the terrace +to cool himself in the evening air, pending the arrival of the +servant whom he had summoned by the music-room bell. The man +appeared at the glass door which led into the room; and reported, +in answer to his master's inquiry, that Mrs. Julius Delamayn was +out paying visits, and was not expected to return for another +hour at least. + +Julius groaned in spirit. The finest music which Mozart has +written for the violin associates that instrument with the piano. +Without the wife to help him, the husband was mute. After an +instant's consideration, Julius hit on an idea which promised, in +some degree, to remedy the disaster of Mrs. Delamayn's absence +from home. + +"Has Mrs. Glenarm gone out, too?" he asked. + +"No, Sir." + +"My compliments. If Mrs. Glenarm has nothing else to do, will she +be so kind as to come to me in the music-room?" + +The servant went away with his message. Julius seated himself on +one of the terrace-benches, and began to tune his violin. + +Mrs. Glenarm--rightly reported by Bishopriggs as having privately +taken refuge from her anonymous correspondent at Swanhaven +Lodge--was, musically speaking, far from being an efficient +substitute for Mrs. Delamayn. Julius possessed, in his wife, one +of the few players on the piano-forte under whose subtle touch +that shallow and soulless instrument becomes inspired with +expression not its own, and produces music instead of noise. The +fine organization which can work this miracle had not been +bestowed on Mrs. Glenarm. She had been carefully taught; and she +was to be trusted to play correctly--and that was all. Julius, +hungry for music, and reigned to circumstances, asked for no +more. + +The servant returned with his answer. Mrs. Glenarm would join Mr. +Delamayn in the music-room in ten minutes' time. + +Julius rose, relieved, and resumed his sauntering walk; now +playing little snatches of music, now stopping to look at the +flowers on the terrace, with an eye that enjoyed their beauty, +and a hand that fondled them with caressing touch. If Imperial +Parliament had seen him at that moment, Imperial Parliament must +have given notice of a question to his illustrious father: Is it +possible, my lord, that _ you_ can have begotten such a Member as +this? + +After stopping for a moment to tighten one of the strings of his +violin, Julius, raising his head from the instrument, was +surprised to see a lady approaching him on the terrace. Advancing +to meet her, and perceiving that she was a total stranger to him, +he assumed that she was, in all probability, a visitor to his +wife. + +"Have I the honor of speaking to a friend of Mrs. Delamayn's?" he +asked. "My wife is not at home, I am sorry to say." + +"I am a stranger to Mrs. Delamayn," the lady answered. "The +servant informed me that she had gone out; and that I should find +Mr. Delamayn here." + +Julius bowed--and waited to hear more. + +"I must beg you to forgive my intrusion," the stranger went on. +"My object is to ask permission to see a lady who is, I have been +informed, a guest in your house." + +The extraordinary formality of the request rather puzzled Julius. + +"Do you mean Mrs. Glenarm?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Pray don't think any permission necessary. A friend of Mrs. +Glenarm's may take her welcome for granted in this house." + +"I am not a friend of Mrs. Glenarm. I am a total stranger to +her." + +This made the ceremonious request preferred by the lady a little +more intelligible--but it left the lady's object in wishing to +speak to Mrs. Glenarm still in the dark. Julius politely waited, +until it pleased her to proceed further, and explain herself The +explanation did not appear to be an easy one to give. Her eyes +dropped to the ground. She hesitated painfully. + +"My name--if I mention it," she resumed, without looking up, "may +possibly inform you--" She paused. Her color came and went. She +hesitated again; struggled with her agitation, and controlled it. +"I am Anne Silvester," she said, suddenly raising her pale face, +and suddenly steadying her trembling voice. + +Julius started, and looked at her in silent surprise. + +The name was doubly known to him. Not long since, he had heard it +from his father's lips, at his father's bedside. Lord Holchester +had charged him, had earnestly charged him, to bear that name in +mind, and to help the woman who bore it, if the woman ever +applied to him in time to come. Again, he had heard the name, +more lately, associated scandalously with the name of his +brother. On the receipt of the first of the anonymous letters +sent to her, Mrs. Glenarm had not only summoned Geoffrey himself +to refute the aspersion cast upon him, but had forwarded a +private copy of the letter to his relatives at Swanhaven. +Geoffrey's defense had not entirely satisfied Julius that his +brother was free from blame. As he now looked at Anne Silvester, +the doubt returned upon him strengthened--almost confirmed. Was +this woman--so modest, so gentle, so simply and unaffectedly +refined--the shameless adventuress denounced by Geoffrey, as +claiming him on the strength of a foolish flirtation; knowing +herself, at the time, to be privately married to another man? Was +this woman--with the voice of a lady, the look of a lady, the +manner of a lady--in league (as Geoffrey had declared) with the +illiterate vagabond who was attempting to extort money +anonymously from Mrs. Glenarm? Impossible! Making every allowance +for the proverbial deceitfulness of appearances, impossible! + +"Your name has been mentioned to me," said Julius, answering her +after a momentary pause. His instincts, as a gentleman, made him +shrink from referring to the association of her name with the +name of his brother. "My father mentioned you," he added, +considerately explaining his knowledge of her in _that_ way, +"when I last saw him in London." + +"Your father!" She came a step nearer, with a look of distrust as +well as a look of astonishment in her face. "Your father is Lord +Holchester--is he not?" + +"Yes." + +"What made him speak of _me?_" + +"He was ill at the time," Julius answered. "And he had been +thinking of events in his past life with which I am entirely +unacquainted. He said he had known your father and mother. He +desired me, if you were ever in want of any assistance, to place +my services at your disposal. When he expressed that wish, he +spoke very earnestly--he gave me the impression that there was a +feeling of regret associated with the recollections on which he +had been dwelling." + +Slowly, and in silence, Anne drew back to the low wall of the +terrace close by. She rested one hand on it to support herself. +Julius had said words of terrible import without a suspicion of +what he had done. Never until now had Anne Silvester known that +the man who had betrayed her was the son of that other man whose +discovery of the flaw in the marriage had ended in the betrayal +of her mother before her. She felt the shock of the revelation +with a chill of superstitious dread. Was the chain of a fatality +wound invisibly round her? Turn which way she might was she still +going darkly on, in the track of her dead mother, to an appointed +and hereditary doom? Present things passed from her view as the +awful doubt cast its shadow over her mind. She lived again for a +moment in the time when she was a child. She saw the face of her +mother once more, with the wan despair on it of the bygone days +when the title of wife was denied her, and the social prospect +was closed forever. + +Julius approached, and roused her. + +"Can I get you any thing?" he asked. "You are looking very ill. I +hope I have said nothing to distress you?" + +The question failed to attract her attention. She put a question +herself instead of answering it. + +"Did you say you were quite ignorant of what your father was +thinking of when he spoke to you about me?" + +"Quite ignorant." + +"Is your brother likely to know more about it than you do?" + +"Certainly not." + +She paused, absorbed once more in her own thoughts. Startled, on +the memorable day when they had first met, by Geoffrey's family +name, she had put the question to him whether there had not been +some acquaintance between their parents in the past time. +Deceiving her in all else, he had not deceived in this. He had +spoken in good faith, when he had declared that he had never +heard her father or her mother mentioned at home. + +The curiosity of Julius was aroused. He attempted to lead her on +into saying more. + +"You appear to know what my father was thinking of when he spoke +to me," he resumed. "May I ask--" + +She interrupted him with a gesture of entreaty. + +"Pray don't ask! It's past and over--it can have no interest for +you--it has nothing to do with my errand here. I must return," +she went on, hurriedly, "to my object in trespassing on your +kindness. Have you heard me mentioned, Mr. Delamayn, by another +member of your family besides your father?" + +Julius had not anticipated that sh e would approach, of her own +accord, the painful subject on which he had himself forborne to +touch. He was a little disappointed. He had expected more +delicacy of feeling from her than she had shown. + +"Is it necessary," he asked, coldly, "to enter on that?" + +The blood rose again in Anne's cheeks. + +"If it had not been necessary," she answered, "do you think I +could have forced myself to mention it to _you?_ Let me remind +you that I am here on sufferance. If I don't speak plainly (no +matter at what sacrifice to my own feelings), I make my situation +more embarrassing than it is already. I have something to tell +Mrs. Glenarm relating to the anonymous letters which she has +lately received. And I have a word to say to her, next, about her +contemplated marriage. Before you allow me to do this, you ought +to know who I am. (I have owned it.) You ought to have heard the +worst that can be said of my conduct. (Your face tells me you +have heard the worst.) After the forbearance you have shown to +me, as a perfect stranger, I will not commit the meanness of +taking you by surprise. Perhaps, Mr. Delamayn, you understand, +_now,_ why I felt myself obliged to refer to your brother. Will +you trust me with permission to speak to Mrs. Glenarm?" + +It was simply and modestly said--with an unaffected and touching +resignation of look and manner. Julius gave her back the respect +and the sympathy which, for a moment, he had unjustly withheld +from her. + +"You have placed a confidence in me," he said "which most persons +in your situation would have withheld. I feel bound, in return to +place confidence in you. I will take it for granted that your +motive in this matter is one which it is my duty to respect. It +will be for Mrs. Glenarm to say whether she wishes the interview +to take place or not. All that I can do is to leave you free to +propose it to her. You _are_ free." + +As he spoke the sound of the piano reached them from the +music-room. Julius pointed to the glass door which opened on to +the terrace. + +"You have only to go in by that door," he said, "and you will +find Mrs. Glenarm alone." + +Anne bowed, and left him. Arrived at the short flight of steps +which led up to the door, she paused to collect her thoughts +before she went in. + + + +A sudden reluctance to go on and enter the room took possession +of her, as she waited with her foot on the lower step. The report +of Mrs. Glenarm's contemplated marriage had produced no such +effect on her as Sir Patrick had supposed: it had found no love +for Geoffrey left to wound, no latent jealousy only waiting to be +inflamed. Her object in taking the journey to Perth was completed +when her correspondence with Geoffrey was in her own hands again. +The change of purpose which had brought her to Swanhaven was due +entirely to the new view of her position toward Mrs. Glenarm +which the coarse commonsense of Bishopriggs had first suggested +to her. If she failed to protest against Mrs. Glenarm's marriage, +in the interests of the reparation which Geoffrey owed to her, +her conduct would only confirm Geoffrey's audacious assertion +that she was a married woman already. For her own sake she might +still have hesitated to move in the matter. But Blanche's +interests were concerned as well as her own; and, for Blanche's +sake, she had resolved on making the journey to Swanhaven Lodge. + +At the same time, feeling toward Geoffrey as she felt +now--conscious as she was of not really desiring the reparation +on which she was about to insist--it was essential to the +preservation of her own self-respect that she should have some +purpose in view which could justify her to her own conscience in +assuming the character of Mrs. Glenarm's rival. + +She had only to call to mind the critical situation of +Blanche--and to see her purpose before her plainly. Assuming that +she could open the coming interview by peaceably proving that her +claim on Geoffrey was beyond dispute, she might then, without +fear of misconception, take the tone of a friend instead of an +enemy, and might, with the best grace, assure Mrs. Glenarm that +she had no rivalry to dread, on the one easy condition that she +engaged to make Geoffrey repair the evil that he had done. "Marry +him without a word against it to dread from _me_--so long as he +unsays the words and undoes the deeds which have thrown a doubt +on the marriage of Arnold and Blanche." If she could but bring +the interview to this end--there was the way found of extricating +Arnold, by her own exertions, from the false position in which +she had innocently placed him toward his wife! Such was the +object before her, as she now stood on the brink of her interview +with Mrs. Glenarm. + +Up to this moment, she had firmly believed in her capacity to +realize her own visionary project. It was only when she had her +foot on the step that a doubt of the success of the coming +experiment crossed her mind. For the first time, she saw the weak +point in her own reasoning. For the first time, she felt how much +she had blindly taken for granted, in assuming that Mrs. Glenarm +would have sufficient sense of justice and sufficient command of +temper to hear her patiently. All her hopes of success rested on +her own favorable estimate of a woman who was a total stranger to +her! What if the first words exchanged between them proved the +estimate to be wrong? + +It was too late to pause and reconsider the position. Julius +Delamayn had noticed her hesitation, and was advancing toward her +from the end of the terrace. There was no help for it but to +master her own irresolution, and to run the risk boldly. "Come +what may, I have gone too far to stop _here._" With that +desperate resolution to animate her, she opened the glass door at +the top of the steps, and went into the room. + + + +Mrs. Glenarm rose from the piano. The two women--one so richly, +the other so plainly dressed; one with her beauty in its full +bloom, the other worn and blighted; one with society at her feet, +the other an outcast living under the bleak shadow of +reproach--the two women stood face to face, and exchanged the +cold courtesies of salute between strangers, in silence. + +The first to meet the trivial necessities of the situation was +Mrs. Glenarm. She good-humoredly put an end to the +embarrassment--which the shy visitor appeared to feel acutely--by +speaking first. + +"I am afraid the servants have not told you?" she said. "Mrs. +Delamayn has gone out." + +"I beg your pardon--I have not called to see Mrs. Delamayn." + +Mrs. Glenarm looked a little surprised. She went on, however, as +amiably as before. + +"Mr. Delamayn, perhaps?" she suggested. "I expect him here every +moment." + +Anne explained again. "I have just parted from Mr. Delamayn." +Mrs. Glenarm opened her eyes in astonishment. Anne proceeded. "I +have come here, if you will excuse the intrusion--" + +She hesitated--at a loss how to end the sentence. Mrs. Glenarm, +beginning by this time to feel a strong curiosity as to what +might be coming next, advanced to the rescue once more. + +"Pray don't apologize," she said. "I think I understand that you +are so good as to have come to see _me._ You look tired. Won't +you take a chair?" + +Anne could stand no longer. She took the offered chair. Mrs. +Glenarm resumed her place on the music-stool, and ran her fingers +idly over the keys of the piano. "Where did you see Mr. +Delamayn?" she went on. "The most irresponsible of men, except +when he has got his fiddle in his hand! Is he coming in soon? Are +we going to have any music? Have you come to play with us? Mr. +Delamayn is a perfect fanatic in music, isn't he? Why isn't he +here to introduce us? I suppose you like the classical style, +too? Did you know that I was in the music-room? Might I ask your +name?" + +Frivolous as they were, Mrs. Glenarm's questions were not without +their use. They gave Anne time to summon her resolution, and to +feel the necessity of explaining herself. + +"I am speaking, I believe, to Mrs. Glenarm?" she began. + +The good-humored widow smiled and bowed graciously. + +"I have come here, Mrs. Glenarm--by Mr. Delamayn's permission--to +ask leave to speak to you on a matter in which you are +interested." + +Mrs. Glenarm's many-ringed fingers paused over the keys of the +piano. Mrs. Gle narm's plump face turned on the stranger with a +dawning expression of surprise. + +"Indeed? I am interested in so many matters. May I ask what +_this_ matter is?" + +The flippant tone of the speaker jarred on Anne. If Mrs. +Glenarm's nature was as shallow as it appeared to be on the +surface, there was little hope of any sympathy establishing +itself between them. + +"I wished to speak to you," she answered, "about something that +happened while you were paying a visit in the neighborhood of +Perth." + +The dawning surprise in Mrs. Glenarm's face became intensified +into an expression of distrust. Her hearty manner vanished under +a veil of conventional civility, drawn over it suddenly. She +looked at Anne. "Never at the best of times a beauty," she +thought. "Wretchedly out of health now. Dressed like a servant, +and looking like a lady. What _does_ it mean?" + +The last doubt was not to be borne in silence by a person of Mrs. +Glenarm's temperament. She addressed herself to the solution of +it with the most unblushing directness--dextrously excused by the +most winning frankness of manner. + +"Pardon me," she said. "My memory for faces is a bad one; and I +don't think you heard me just now, when I asked for your name. +Have we ever met before?" + +"Never." + +"And yet--if I understand what you are referring to--you wish to +speak to me about something which is only interesting to myself +and my most intimate friends." + +"You understand me quite correctly," said Anne. "I wish to speak +to you about some anonymous letters--" + +"For the third time, will you permit me to ask for your name?" + +"You shall hear it directly--if you will first allow me to finish +what I wanted to say. I wish--if I can--to persuade you that I +come here as a friend, before I mention my name. You will, I am +sure, not be very sorry to hear that you need dread no further +annoyance--" + +"Pardon me once more," said Mrs. Glenarm, interposing for the +second time. "I am at a loss to know to what I am to attribute +this kind interest in my affairs on the part of a total +stranger." + +This time, her tone was more than politely cold--it was politely +impertinent. Mrs. Glenarm had lived all her life in good society, +and was a perfect mistress of the subtleties of refined insolence +in her intercourse with those who incurred her displeasure. + +Anne's sensitive nature felt the wound--but Anne's patient +courage submitted. She put away from her the insolence which had +tried to sting, and went on, gently and firmly, as if nothing had +happened. + +"The person who wrote to you anonymously," she said, "alluded to +a correspondence. He is no longer in possession of it. The +correspondence has passed into hands which may be trusted to +respect it. It will be put to no base use in the future--I answer +for that." + +"You answer for that?" repeated Mrs. Glenarm. She suddenly leaned +forward over the piano, and fixed her eyes in unconcealed +scrutiny on Anne's face. The violent temper, so often found in +combination with the weak nature, began to show itself in her +rising color, and her lowering brow. "How do _you_ know what the +person wrote?" she asked. "How do _you_ know that the +correspondence has passed into other hands? Who are you?" Before +Anne could answer her, she sprang to her feet, electrified by a +new idea. "The man who wrote to me spoke of something else +besides a correspondence. He spoke of a woman. I have found you +out!" she exclaimed, with a burst of jealous fury. "_You_ are the +woman!" + +Anne rose on her side, still in firm possession of her +self-control. + +"Mrs. Glenarm," she said, calmly, "I warn--no, I entreat you--not +to take that tone with me. Compose yourself; and I promise to +satisfy you that you are more interested than you are willing to +believe in what I have still to say. Pray bear with me for a +little longer. I admit that you have guessed right. I own that I +am the miserable woman who has been ruined and deserted by +Geoffrey Delamayn." + +"It's false!" cried Mrs. Glenarm. "You wretch! Do you come to +_me_ with your trumped-up story? What does Julius Delamayn mean +by exposing me to this?" Her indignation at finding herself in +the same room with Anne broke its way through, not the restraints +only, but the common decencies of politeness. "I'll ring for the +servants!" she said. "I'll have you turned out of the house." + +She tried to cross the fire-place to ring the bell. Anne, who was +standing nearest to it, stepped forward at the same moment. +Without saying a word, she motioned with her hand to the other +woman to stand back. There was a pause. The two waited, with +their eyes steadily fixed on one another--each with her +resolution laid bare to the other's view. In a moment more, the +finer nature prevailed. Mrs. Glenarm drew back a step in silence. + +"Listen to me," said Anne. + +"Listen to you?" repeated Mrs. Glenarm. "You have no right to be +in this house. You have no right to force yourself in here. Leave +the room!" + +Anne's patience--so firmly and admirably preserved thus +far--began to fail her at last. + +"Take care, Mrs. Glenarm!" she said, still struggling with +herself. "I am not naturally a patient woman. Trouble has done +much to tame my temper--but endurance has its limits. You have +reached the limits of mine. I have a claim to be heard--and after +what you have said to me, I _will_ be heard!" + +"You have no claim! You shameless woman, you are married already. +I know the man's name. Arnold Brinkworth." + +"Did Geoffrey Delamayn tell you that?" + +"I decline to answer a woman who speaks of Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn +in that familiar way." + +Anne advanced a step nearer. + +"Did Geoffrey Delamayn tell you that?" she repeated. + +There was a light in her eyes, there was a ring in her voice, +which showed that she was roused at last. Mrs. Glenarm answered +her, this time. + +"He did tell me." + +"He lied!" + +"He did _not!_ He knew. I believe _him._ I don't believe _you._" + +"If he told you that I was any thing but a single woman--if he +told you that Arnold Brinkworth was married to any body but Miss +Lundie of Windygates--I say again he lied!" + +"I say again--I believe _him,_ and not you." + +"You believe I am Arnold Brinkworth's wife?" + +"I am certain of it." + +"You tell me that to my face?" + +"I tell you to your face--you may have been Geoffrey Delamayn's +mistress; you are Arnold Brinkworth's wife." + +At those words the long restrained anger leaped up in Anne--all +the more hotly for having been hitherto so steadily controlled. +In one breathless moment the whirlwind of her indignation swept +away, not only all remembrance of the purpose which had brought +her to Swanhaven, but all sense even of the unpardonable wrong +which she had suffered at Geoffrey's hands. If he had been there, +at that moment, and had offered to redeem his pledge, she would +have consented to marry him, while Mrs. Glenarm s eye was on +her--no matter whether she destroyed herself in her first cool +moment afterward or not. The small sting had planted itself at +last in the great nature. The noblest woman is only a woman, +after all! + +"I forbid your marriage to Geoffrey Delamayn! I insist on his +performing the promise he gave me, to make me his wife! I have +got it here in his own words, in his own writing. On his soul, he +swears it to me--he will redeem his pledge. His mistress, did you +say? His wife, Mrs. Glenarm, before the week is out!" + +In those wild words she cast back the taunt--with the letter held +in triumph in her hand. + +Daunted for the moment by the doubt now literally forced on her, +that Anne might really have the claim on Geoffrey which she +advanced, Mrs. Glenarm answered nevertheless with the obstinacy +of a woman brought to bay--with a resolution not to be convinced +by conviction itself. + +"I won't give him up!" she cried. "Your letter is a forgery. You +have no proof. I won't, I won't, I won't give him up!" she +repeated, with the impotent iteration of an angry child. + +Anne pointed disdainfully to the letter that she held. "Here is +his pledged and written word," she said. "While I live, you will +never be his wife." + +"I shall be his wife the day after the race. I am going to him in +London--to warn him against You!" + +"You will find me in London, before you--with this in my hand. Do +you know his writing?" + +She held up the letter, open. Mrs. Glenarm's hand flew out with +the stealthy rapidity of a cat's paw, to seize and destroy it. +Quick as she was, her rival was quicker still. For an instant +they faced each other breathless--one with the letter held behind +her; one with her hand still stretched out. + +At the same moment--before a word more had passed between +them--the glass door opened; and Julius Delamayn appeared in the +room. + +He addressed himself to Anne. + +"We decided, on the terrace," he said, quietly, "that you should +speak to Mrs. Glenarm, if Mrs. Glenarm wished it. Do you think it +desirable that the interview should be continued any longer?" + +Anne's head drooped on her breast. The fiery anger in her was +quenched in an instant. + +"I have been cruelly provoked, Mr. Delamayn," she answered. "But +I have no right to plead that." She looked up at him for a +moment. The hot tears of shame gathered in her eyes, and fell +slowly over her cheeks. She bent her head again, and hid them +from him. "The only atonement I can make," she said, "is to ask +your pardon, and to leave the house." + +In silence, she turned away to the door. In silence, Julius +Delamayn paid her the trifling courtesy of opening it for her. +She went out. + +Mrs. Glenarm's indignation--suspended for the moment--transferred +itself to Julius. + +"If I have been entrapped into seeing that woman, with your +approval," she said, haughtily, "I owe it to myself, Mr. +Delamayn, to follow her example, and to leave your house." + +"I authorized her to ask you for an interview, Mrs. Glenarm. If +she has presumed on the permission that I gave her, I sincerely +regret it, and I beg you to accept my apologies. At the same +time, I may venture to add, in defense of my conduct, that I +thought her--and think her still--a woman to be pitied more than +to be blamed." + +"To be pitied did you say?" asked Mrs. Glenarm, doubtful whether +her ears had not deceived her. + +"To be pitied," repeated Julius. + +"_You_ may find it convenient, Mr. Delamayn, to forget what your +brother has told us about that person. _I_ happen to remember +it." + +"So do I, Mrs. Glenarm. But, with my experience of Geoffrey--" He +hesitated, and ran his fingers nervously over the strings of his +violin. + +"You don't believe him?" said Mrs. Glenarm. + +Julius declined to admit that he doubted his brother's word, to +the lady who was about to become his brother's wife. + +"I don't quite go that length," he said. "I find it difficult to +reconcile what Geoffrey has told us, with Miss Silvester's manner +and appearance--" + +"Her appearance!" cried Mrs. Glenarm, in a transport of +astonishment and disgust. "_Her_ appearance! Oh, the men! I beg +your pardon--I ought to have remembered that there is no +accounting for tastes. Go on--pray go on!" + +"Shall we compose ourselves with a little music?" suggested +Julius. + +"I particularly request you will go on," answered Mrs. Glenarm, +emphatically. "You find it 'impossible to reconcile'--" + +"I said 'difficult.' " + +"Oh, very well. Difficult to reconcile what Geoffrey told us, +with Miss Silvester's manner and appearance. What next? You had +something else to say, when I was so rude as to interrupt you. +What was it?" + +"Only this," said Julius. "I don't find it easy to understand Sir +Patrick Lundie's conduct in permitting Mr. Brinkworth to commit +bigamy with his niece." + +"Wait a minute! The marriage of that horrible woman to Mr. +Brinkworth was a private marriage. Of course, Sir Patrick knew +nothing about it!" + +Julius owned that this might be possible, and made a second +attempt to lead the angry lady back to the piano. Useless, once +more! Though she shrank from confessing it to herself, Mrs. +Glenarm's belief in the genuineness of her lover's defense had +been shaken. The tone taken by Julius--moderate as it +was--revived the first startling suspicion of the credibility of +Geoffrey's statement which Anne's language and conduct had forced +on Mrs. Glenarm. She dropped into the nearest chair, and put her +handkerchief to her eyes. "You always hated poor Geoffrey," she +said, with a burst of tears. "And now you're defaming him to me!" + +Julius managed her admirably. On the point of answering her +seriously, he checked himself. "I always hated poor Geoffrey," he +repeated, with a smile. "You ought to be the last person to say +that, Mrs. Glenarm! I brought him all the way from London +expressly to introduce him to _you._" + +"Then I wish you had left him in London!" retorted Mrs. Glenarm, +shifting suddenly from tears to temper. "I was a happy woman +before I met your brother. I can't give him up!" she burst out, +shifting back again from temper to tears. "I don't care if he +_has_ deceived me. I won't let another woman have him! I _will_ +be his wife!" She threw herself theatrically on her knees before +Julius. "Oh, _do_ help me to find out the truth!" she said. "Oh, +Julius, pity me! I am so fond of him!" + +There was genuine distress in her face, there was true feeling in +her voice. Who would have believed that there were reserves of +merciless insolence and heartless cruelty in this woman--and that +they had been lavishly poured out on a fallen sister not five +minutes since? + +"I will do all I can," said Julius, raising her. "Let us talk of +it when you are more composed. Try a little music," he repeated, +"just to quiet your nerves." + +"Would _you_ like me to play?" asked Mrs. Glenarm, becoming a +model of feminine docility at a moment's notice. + +Julius opened the Sonatas of Mozart, and shouldered his violin. + +"Let's try the Fifteenth," he said, placing Mrs. Glenarm at the +piano. "We will begin with the Adagio. If ever there was divine +music written by mortal man, there it is!" + +They began. At the third bar Mrs. Glenarm dropped a note--and the +bow of Julius paused shuddering on the strings. + +"I can't play!" she said. "I am so agitated; I am so anxious. How +_am_ I to find out whether that wretch is really married or not? +Who can I ask? I can't go to Geoffrey in London--the trainers +won't let me see him. I can't appeal to Mr. Brinkworth himself--I +am not even acquainted with him. Who else is there? Do think, and +tell me!" + +There was but one chance of making her return to the Adagio--the +chance of hitting on a suggestion which would satisfy and quiet +her. Julius laid his violin on the piano, and considered the +question before him carefully. + +"There are the witnesses," he said. "If Geoffrey's story is to be +depended on, the landlady and the waiter at the inn can speak to +the facts." + +"Low people!" objected Mrs. Glenarm. "People I don't know. People +who might take advantage of my situation, and be insolent to me." + +Julius considered once more; and made another suggestion. With +the fatal ingenuity of innocence, he hit on the idea of referring +Mrs. Glenarm to no less a person than Lady Lundie herself! + +"There is our good friend at Windygates," he said. "Some whisper +of the matter may have reached Lady Lundie's ears. It may be a +little awkward to call on her (if she _has_ heard any thing) at +the time of a serious family disaster. You are the best judge of +that, however. All I can do is to throw out the notion. +Windygates isn't very far off--and something might come of it. +What do you think?" + +Something might come of it! Let it be remembered that Lady Lundie +had been left entirely in the dark--that she had written to Sir +Patrick in a tone which plainly showed that her self-esteem was +wounded and her suspicion roused--and that her first intimation +of the serious dilemma in which Arnold Brinkworth stood was now +likely, thanks to Julius Delamayn, to reach her from the lips of +a mere acquaintance. Let this be remembered; and then let the +estimate be formed of what might come of it--not at Windygates +only, but also at Ham Farm! + +"What do you think?" asked Julius. + +Mrs. Glenarm was enchanted. "The very person to go to!" she said. +"If I am not let in I can easily write--and explain my object as +an apology. Lady Lundie is so right-minded, so sympathetic. If +she sees no one else--I have only to confide my anxieties to her, +and I am sure she will see me. You will lend me a carriage, won't +you? I'll go to Windygates to-morrow." + +Julius took his violin off the pi ano. + +"Don't think me very troublesome," he said coaxingly. "Between +this and to-morrow we have nothing to do. And it is _such_ music, +if you once get into the swing of it! Would you mind trying +again?" + +Mrs. Glenarm was willing to do any thing to prove her gratitude, +after the invaluable hint which she had just received. At the +second trial the fair pianist's eye and hand were in perfect +harmony. The lovely melody which the Adagio of Mozart's Fifteenth +Sonata has given to violin and piano flowed smoothly at last--and +Julius Delamayn soared to the seventh heaven of musical delight. + + + +The next day Mrs. Glenarm and Mrs. Delamayn went together to +Windygates House. + + +TENTH SCENE--THE BEDROOM. + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIRST. + +LADY LUNDIE DOES HER DUTY. + +THE scene opens on a bedroom--and discloses, in broad daylight, a +lady in bed. + +Persons with an irritable sense of propriety, whose +self-appointed duty it is to be always crying out, are warned to +pause before they cry out on this occasion. The lady now +presented to view being no less a person than Lady Lundie +herself, it follows, as a matter of course, that the utmost +demands of propriety are, by the mere assertion of that fact, +abundantly and indisputably satisfied. To say that any thing +short of direct moral advantage could, by any possibility, accrue +to any living creature by the presentation of her ladyship in a +horizontal, instead of a perpendicular position, is to assert +that Virtue is a question of posture, and that Respectability +ceases to assert itself when it ceases to appear in morning or +evening dress. Will any body be bold enough to say that? Let +nobody cry out, then, on the present occasion. + + + +Lady Lundie was in bed. + +Her ladyship had received Blanche's written announcement of the +sudden stoppage of the bridal tour; and had penned the answer to +Sir Patrick--the receipt of which at Ham Farm has been already +described. This done, Lady Lundie felt it due to herself to take +a becoming position in her own house, pending the possible +arrival of Sir Patrick's reply. What does a right-minded woman +do, when she has reason to believe that she is cruelly distrusted +by the members of her own family? A right-minded woman feels it +so acutely that she falls ill. Lady Lundie fell ill accordingly. + +The case being a serious one, a medical practitioner of the +highest grade in the profession was required to treat it. A +physician from the neighboring town of Kirkandrew was called in. + +The physician came in a carriage and pair, with the necessary +bald head, and the indispensable white cravat. He felt her +ladyship's pulse, and put a few gentle questions. He turned his +back solemnly, as only a great doctor can, on his own positive +internal conviction that his patient had nothing whatever the +matter with her. He said, with every appearance of believing in +himself, "Nerves, Lady Lundie. Repose in bed is essentially +necessary. I will write a prescription." He prescribed, with +perfect gravity: Aromatic Spirits of Ammonia--16 drops. Spirits +of Red Lavender--10 drops. Syrup of Orange Peel--2 drams. Camphor +Julep--1 ounce. When he had written, Misce fiat Hanstus (instead +of Mix a Draught)--when he had added, Ter die Sumendus (instead +of To be taken Three times a day)--and when he had certified to +his own Latin, by putting his initials at the end, he had only to +make his bow; to slip two guineas into his pocket; and to go his +way, with an approving professional conscience, in the character +of a physician who had done his duty. + +Lady Lundie was in bed. The visible part of her ladyship was +perfectly attired, with a view to the occasion. A fillet of +superb white lace encircled her head. She wore an adorable +invalid jacket of white cambric, trimmed with lace and pink +ribbons. The rest was--bed-clothes. On a table at her side stood +the Red Lavender Draught--in color soothing to the eye; in flavor +not unpleasant to the taste. A book of devotional character was +near it. The domestic ledgers, and the kitchen report for the +day, were ranged modestly behind the devout book. (Not even her +ladyship's nerves, observe, were permitted to interfere with her +ladyship's duty.) A fan, a smelling-bottle, and a handkerchief +lay within reach on the counterpane. The spacious room was +partially darkened. One of the lower windows was open, affording +her ladyship the necessary cubic supply of air. The late Sir +Thomas looked at his widow, in effigy, from the wall opposite the +end of the bed. Not a chair was out of its place; not a vestige +of wearing apparel dared to show itself outside the sacred limits +of the wardrobe and the drawers. The sparkling treasures of the +toilet-table glittered in the dim distance, The jugs and basins +were of a rare and creamy white; spotless and beautiful to see. +Look where you might, you saw a perfect room. Then look at the +bed--and you saw a perfect woman, and completed the picture. + + + +It was the day after Anne's appearance at Swanhaven--toward the +end of the afternoon. + +Lady Lundie's own maid opened the door noiselessly, and stole on +tip-toe to the bedside. Her ladyship's eyes were closed. Her +ladyship suddenly opened them. + +"Not asleep, Hopkins. Suffering. What is it?" + +Hopkins laid two cards on the counterpane. "Mrs. Delamayn, my +lady--and Mrs. Glenarm." + +"They were told I was ill, of course?" + +"Yes, my lady. Mrs. Glenarm sent for me. She went into the +library, and wrote this note." Hopkins produced the note, neatly +folded in three-cornered form. + +"Have they gone?" + +"No, my lady. Mrs. Glenarm told me Yes or No would do for answer, +if you could only have the goodness to read this." + +"Thoughtless of Mrs. Glenarm--at a time when the doctor insists +on perfect repose," said Lady Lundie. "It doesn't matter. One +sacrifice more or less is of very little consequence." + +She fortified herself by an application of the smelling-bottle, +and opened the note. It ran thus: + +"So grieved, dear Lady Lundie, to hear that you are a prisoner in +your room! I had taken the opportunity of calling with Mrs. +Delamayn, in the hope that I might be able to ask you a question. +Will your inexhaustible kindness forgive me if I ask it in +writing? Have you had any unexpected news of Mr. Arnold +Brinkworth lately? I mean, have you heard any thing about him, +which has taken you very much by surprise? I have a serious +reason for asking this. I will tell you what it is, the moment +you are able to see me. Until then, one word of answer is all I +expect. Send word down--Yes, or No. A thousand apologies--and +pray get better soon!" + +The singular question contained in this note suggested one of two +inferences to Lady Lundie's mind. Either Mrs. Glenarm had heard a +report of the unexpected return of the married couple to +England--or she was in the far more interesting and important +position of possessing a clew to the secret of what was going on +under the surface at Ham Farm. The phrase used in the note, "I +have a serious reason for asking this," appeared to favor the +latter of the two interpretations. Impossible as it seemed to be +that Mrs. Glenarm could know something about Arnold of which Lady +Lundie was in absolute ignorance, her ladyship's curiosity +(already powerfully excited by Blanche's mysterious letter) was +only to be quieted by obtaining the necessary explanation +forthwith, at a personal interview. + +"Hopkins," she said, "I must see Mrs. Glenarm." + +Hopkins respectfully held up her hands in horror. Company in the +bedroom in the present state of her ladyship's health! + +"A matter of duty is involved in this, Hopkins. Give me the +glass." + +Hopkins produced an elegant little hand-mirror. Lady Lundie +carefully surveyed herself in it down to the margin of the +bedclothes. Above criticism in every respect? Yes--even when the +critic was a woman. + +"Show Mrs. Glenarm up here." + +In a minute or two more the iron-master's widow fluttered into +the room--a little over-dressed as usual; and a little profuse in +expressions of gratitude for her ladyship's kindness, and of +anxiety about her ladyship's health. Lady Lundie endured it as +long as she could--then stopped it with a gesture of polite +remonstrance, and came to the point. + +"Now, my dear--about this question in your note? Is it possible +you have heard already that Arnold Brinkworth and his wife have +come back from Baden?" Mrs. Glenarm opened her eyes in +astonishment. Lady Lundie put it more plainly. "They were to have +gone on to Switzerland, you know, for their wedding tour, and +they suddenly altered their minds, and came back to England on +Sunday last." + +"Dear Lady Lundie, it's not that! Have you heard nothing about +Mr. Brinkworth except what you have just told me?" + +"Nothing." + +There was a pause. Mrs. Glenarm toyed hesitatingly with her +parasol. Lady Lundie leaned forward in the bed, and looked at her +attentively. + +"What have _you_ heard about him?" she asked. + +Mrs. Glenarm was embarrassed. "It's so difficult to say," she +began. + +"I can bear any thing but suspense," said Lady Lundie. "Tell me +the worst." + +Mrs. Glenarm decided to risk it. "Have you never heard," she +asked, "that Mr. Brinkworth might possibly have committed himself +with another lady before he married Miss Lundie?" + +Her ladyship first closed her eyes in horror and then searched +blindly on the counterpane for the smelling-bottle. Mrs. Glenarm +gave it to her, and waited to see how the invalid bore it before +she said any more. + +"There are things one _must_ hear," remarked Lady Lundie. "I see +an act of duty involved in this. No words can describe how you +astonish me. Who told you?" + +"Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn told me." + +Her ladyship applied for the second time to the smelling-bottle. +"Arnold Brinkworth's most intimate friend!" she exclaimed. "He +ought to know if any body does. This is dreadful. Why should Mr. +Geoffrey Delamayn tell _you?_" + +"I am going to marry him," answered Mrs. Glenarm. "That is my +excuse, dear Lady Lundie, for troubling you in this matter." + +Lady Lundie partially opened her eyes in a state of faint +bewilderment. "I don't understand," she said. "For Heaven's sake +explain yourself!" + +"Haven't you heard about the anonymous letters?" asked Mrs. +Glenarm. + +Yes. Lady Lundie had heard about the letters. But only what the +public in general had heard. The name of the lady in the +background not mentioned; and Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn assumed to be +as innocent as the babe unborn. Any mistake in that assumption? +"Give me your hand, my poor dear, and confide it all to _me!_" + +"He is not quite innocent," said Mrs. Glenarm. "He owned to a +foolish flirtation--all _her_ doing, no doubt. Of course, I +insisted on a distinct explanation. Had she really any claim on +him? Not the shadow of a claim. I felt that I only had his word +for that--and I told him so. He said he could prove it--he said +he knew her to be privately married already. Her husband had +disowned and deserted her; she was at the end of her resources; +she was desperate enough to attempt any thing. I thought it all +very suspicious--until Geoffrey mentioned the man's name. _That_ +certainly proved that he had cast off his wife; for I myself knew +that he had lately married another person." + +Lady Lundie suddenly started up from her pillow--honestly +agitated; genuinely alarmed by this time. + +"Mr. Delamayn told you the man's name?" she said, breathlessly. + +"Yes." + +"Do I know it?" + +"Don't ask me!" + +Lady Lundie fell back on the pillow. + +Mrs. Glenarm rose to ring for help. Before she could touch the +bell, her ladyship had rallied again. + +"Stop!" she cried. "I can confirm it! It's true, Mrs. Glenarm! +it's true! Open the silver box on the toilet-table--you will find +the key in it. Bring me the top letter. Here! Look at it. I got +this from Blanche. Why have they suddenly given up their bridal +tour? Why have they gone back to Sir Patrick at Ham Farm? Why +have they put me off with an infamous subterfuge to account for +it? I felt sure something dreadful had happened. Now I know what +it is!" She sank back again, with closed eyes, and repeated the +words, in a fierce whisper, to herself. "Now I know what it is!" + +Mrs. Glenarm read the letter. The reason given for the +suspiciously sudden return of the bride and bridegroom was +palpably a subterfuge--and, more remarkable still, the name of +Anne Silvester was connected with it. Mrs. Glenarm became +strongly agitated on her side. + +"This _is_ a confirmation," she said. "Mr. Brinkworth has been +found out--the woman _is_ married to him--Geoffrey is free. Oh, +my dear friend, what a load of anxiety you have taken off my +mind! That vile wretch--" + +Lady Lundie suddenly opened her eyes. + +"Do you mean," she asked, "the woman who is at the bottom of all +the mischief?" + +"Yes. I saw her yesterday. She forced herself in at Swanhaven. +She called him Geoffrey Delamayn. She declared herself a single +woman. She claimed him before my face in the most audacious +manner. She shook my faith, Lady Lundie--she shook my faith in +Geoffrey!" + +"Who is she?" + +"Who?" echoed Mrs. Glenarm. "Don't you even know that? Why her +name is repeated half a dozen times in this letter!" + +Lady Lundie uttered a scream that rang through the room. Mrs. +Glenarm started to her feet. The maid appeared at the door in +terror. Her ladyship motioned to the woman to withdraw again +instantly, and then pointed to Mrs. Glenarm's chair. + +"Sit down," she said. "Let me have a minute or two of quiet. I +want nothing more." + +The silence in the room was unbroken until Lady Lundie spoke +again. She asked for Blanche's letter. After reading it +carefully, she laid it aside, and fell for a while into deep +thought. + +"I have done Blanche an injustice!" she exclaimed. "My poor +Blanche!" + +"You think she knows nothing about it?" + +"I am certain of it! You forget, Mrs. Glenarm, that this horrible +discovery casts a doubt on my step-daughter's marriage. Do you +think, if she knew the truth, she would write of a wretch who has +mortally injured her as she writes here? They have put her off +with the excuse that she innocently sends to _me._ I see it as +plainly as I see you! Mr. Brinkworth and Sir Patrick are in +league to keep us both in the dark. Dear child! I owe her an +atonement. If nobody else opens her eyes, I will do it. Sir +Patrick shall find that Blanche has a friend in Me!" + +A smile--the dangerous smile of an inveterately vindictive woman +thoroughly roused--showed itself with a furtive suddenness on her +face. Mrs. Glenarm was a little startled. Lady Lundie below the +surface--as distinguished from Lady Lundie _on_ the surface--was +not a pleasant object to contemplate. + +"Pray try to compose yourself," said Mrs. Glenarm. "Dear Lady +Lundie, you frighten me!" + +The bland surface of her ladyship appeared smoothly once more; +drawn back, as it were, over the hidden inner self, which it had +left for the moment exposed to view. + +"Forgive me for feeling it!" she said, with the patient sweetness +which so eminently distinguished her in times of trial. "It falls +a little heavily on a poor sick woman--innocent of all suspicion, +and insulted by the most heartless neglect. Don't let me distress +you. I shall rally, my dear; I shall rally! In this dreadful +calamity--this abyss of crime and misery and deceit--I have no +one to depend on but myself. For Blanche's sake, the whole thing +must be cleared up--probed, my dear, probed to the depths. +Blanche must take a position that is worthy of her. Blanche must +insist on her rights, under My protection. Never mind what I +suffer, or what I sacrifice. There is a work of justice for poor +weak Me to do. It shall be done!" said her ladyship, fanning +herself with an aspect of illimitable resolution. "It shall be +done!" + +"But, Lady Lundie what can you do? They are all away in the +south. And as for that abominable woman--" + +Lady Lundie touched Mrs. Glenarm on the shoulder with her fan. + +"I have my surprise in store, dear friend, as well as you. That +abominable woman was employed as Blanche's governess in this +house. Wait! that is not all. She left us suddenly--ran away--on +the pretense of being privately married. I know where she went. I +can trace what she did. I can find out who was with her. I can +follow Mr. Brinkworth's proceedings, behind Mr. Brinkworth's +back. I can search out the truth, without depending on people +compromised in this black business, whose interest it is to +deceive me. And I will do it to-day!" She closed the fan with a +sharp snap of t riumph, and settled herself on the pillow in +placid enjoyment of her dear friend's surprise. + +Mrs. Glenarm drew confidentially closer to the bedside. "How can +you manage it?" she asked, eagerly. "Don't think me curious. I +have my interest, too, in getting at the truth. Don't leave me +out of it, pray!" + +"Can you come back to-morrow, at this time?" + +"Yes! yes!" + +"Come, then--and you shall know." + +"Can I be of any use?" + +"Not at present." + +"Can my uncle be of any use?" + +"Do you know where to communicate with Captain Newenden?" + +"Yes--he is staying with some friends in Sussex." + +"We may possibly want his assistance. I can't tell yet. Don't +keep Mrs. Delamayn waiting any longer, my dear. I shall expect +you to-morrow." + +They exchanged an affectionate embrace. Lady Lundie was left +alone. + +Her ladyship resigned herself to meditation, with frowning brow +and close-shut lips. She looked her full age, and a year or two +more, as she lay thinking, with her head on her hand, and her +elbow on the pillow. After committing herself to the physician +(and to the red lavender draught) the commonest regard for +consistency made it necessary that she should keep her bed for +that day. And yet it was essential that the proposed inquiries +should be instantly set on foot. On the one hand, the problem was +not an easy one to solve; on the other, her ladyship was not an +easy one to beat. How to send for the landlady at Craig Fernie, +without exciting any special suspicion or remark--was the +question before her. In less than five minutes she had looked +back into her memory of current events at Windygates--and had +solved it. + +Her first proceeding was to ring the bell for her maid. + +"I am afraid I frightened you, Hopkins. The state of my nerves. +Mrs. Glenarm was a little sudden with some news that surprised +me. I am better now--and able to attend to the household matters. +There is a mistake in the butcher's account. Send the cook here." + +She took up the domestic ledger and the kitchen report; corrected +the butcher; cautioned the cook; and disposed of all arrears of +domestic business before Hopkins was summoned again. Having, in +this way, dextrously prevented the woman from connecting any +thing that her mistress said or did, after Mrs. Glenarm's +departure, with any thing that might have passed during Mrs. +Glenarm's visit, Lady Lundie felt herself at liberty to pave the +way for the investigation on which she was determined to enter +before she slept that night. + +"So much for the indoor arrangements," she said. "You must be my +prime minister, Hopkins, while I lie helpless here. Is there any +thing wanted by the people out of doors? The coachman? The +gardener?" + +"I have just seen the gardener, my lady. He came with last week's +accounts. I told him he couldn't see your ladyship to-day." + +"Quite right. Had he any report to make?" + +"No, my lady." + +"Surely, there was something I wanted to say to him--or to +somebody else? My memorandum-book, Hopkins. In the basket, on +that chair. Why wasn't the basket placed by my bedside?" + +Hopkins brought the memorandum-book. Lady Lundie consulted it +(without the slightest necessity), with the same masterly gravity +exhibited by the doctor when he wrote her prescription (without +the slightest necessity also). + +"Here it is," she said, recovering the lost remembrance. "Not the +gardener, but the gardener's wife. A memorandum to speak to her +about Mrs. Inchbare. Observe, Hopkins, the association of ideas. +Mrs. Inchbare is associated with the poultry; the poultry are +associated with the gardener's wife; the gardener's wife is +associated with the gardener--and so the gardener gets into my +head. Do you see it? I am always trying to improve your mind. You +do see it? Very well. Now about Mrs. Inchbare? Has she been here +again?" + +"No, my lady." + +"I am not at all sure, Hopkins, that I was right in declining to +consider the message Mrs. Inchbare sent to me about the poultry. +Why shouldn't she offer to take any fowls that I can spare off my +hands? She is a respectable woman; and it is important to me to +live on good terms with al my neighbors, great and small. Has she +got a poultry-yard of her own at Craig Fernie?" + +"Yes, my lady. And beautifully kept, I am told." + +"I really don't see--on reflection, Hopkins--why I should +hesitate to deal with Mrs. Inchbare. (I don't think it beneath me +to sell the game killed on my estate to the poulterer.) What was +it she wanted to buy? Some of my black Spanish fowls?" + +"Yes, my lady. Your ladyship's black Spaniards are famous all +round the neighborhood. Nobody has got the breed. And Mrs. +Inchbare--" + +"Wants to share the distinction of having the breed with me," +said Lady Lundie. "I won't appear ungracious. I will see her +myself, as soon as I am a little better, and tell her that I have +changed my mind. Send one of the men to Craig Fernie with a +message. I can't keep a trifling matter of this sort in my +memory--send him at once, or I may forget it. He is to say I am +willing to see Mrs. Inchbare, about the fowls, the first time she +finds it convenient to come this way." + +"I am afraid, my lady--Mrs. Inchbare's heart is so set on the +black Spaniards--she will find it convenient to come this way at +once as fast as her feet can carry her." + +"In that case, you must take her to the gardener's wife. Say she +is to have some eggs--on condition, of course, of paying the +price for them. If she does come, mind I hear of it." + +Hopkins withdrew. Hopkins's mistress reclined on her comfortable +pillows and fanned herself gently. The vindictive smile +reappeared on her face. "I fancy I shall be well enough to see +Mrs. Inchbare," she thought to herself. "And it is just possible +that the conversation may get beyond the relative merits of her +poultry-yard and mine." + + + +A lapse of little more than two hours proved Hopkins's estimate +of the latent enthusiasm in Mrs. Inchbare's character to have +been correctly formed. The eager landlady appeared at Windygates +on the heels of the returning servant. Among the long list of +human weaknesses, a passion for poultry seems to have its +practical advantages (in the shape of eggs) as compared with the +more occult frenzies for collecting snuff-boxes and fiddles, and +amassing autographs and old postage-stamps. When the mistress of +Craig Fernie was duly announced to the mistress of Windygates, +Lady Lundie developed a sense of humor for the first time in her +life. Her ladyship was feebly merry (the result, no doubt, of the +exhilarating properties of the red lavender draught) on the +subject of Mrs. Inchbare and the Spanish fowls. + +"Most ridiculous, Hopkins! This poor woman must be suffering from +a determination of poultry to the brain. Ill as I am, I should +have thought that nothing could amuse me. But, really, this good +creature starting up, and rushing here, as you say, as fast as +her feet can carry her--it's impossible to resist it! I +positively think I must see Mrs. Inchbare. With my active habits, +this imprisonment to my room is dreadful. I can neither sleep nor +read. Any thing, Hopkins, to divert my mind from myself: It's +easy to get rid of her if she is too much for me. Send her up." + +Mrs. Inchbare made her appearance, courtesying deferentially; +amazed at the condescension which admitted her within the +hallowed precincts of Lady Lundie's room. + +"Take a chair," said her ladyship, graciously. "I am suffering +from illness, as you perceive." + +"My certie! sick or well, yer leddyship's a braw sight to see!" +returned Mrs. Inchbare profoundly impressed by the elegant +costume which illness assumes when illness appears in the regions +of high life. + +"I am far from being in a fit state to receive any body," +proceeded Lady Lundie. "But I had a motive for wishing to speak +to you when you next came to my house. I failed to treat a +proposal you made to me, a short time since, in a friendly and +neighborly way. I beg you to understand that I regret having +forgotten the consideration due from a person in my position to a +person in yours. I am obliged to say this under very unusual +circumstances," added her ladyship, with a glance round her +magnificent bedroom, "through your unexpected promptitude in +favoring me with a call. You have lost no time, Mrs. Inchbare, in +profiting by the message which I had the pleasure of sending to +you." + +"Eh, my leddy, I wasna' that sure (yer leddyship having ance +changed yer mind) but that ye might e'en change again if I failed +to strike, as they say, while the iron's het. I crave yer pardon, +I'm sure, if I ha' been ower hasty. The pride o' my hairt's in my +powltry--and the black Spaniards' (as they ca' them) are a sair +temptation to me to break the tenth commandment, sae lang as +they're a' in yer leddyship's possession, and nane o' them in +mine." + +"I am shocked to hear that I have been the innocent cause of your +falling into temptation, Mrs. Inchbare! Make your proposal--and I +shall be happy to meet it, if I can." + +"I must e'en be content wi' what yer leddyship will condescend +on. A haitch o' eggs if I can come by naething else." + +"There is something else you would prefer to a hatch of eggs?" + +"I wad prefer," said Mrs. Inchbare, modestly, "a cock and twa +pullets." + +"Open the case on the table behind you," said Lady Lundie, "and +you will find some writing paper inside. Give me a sheet of +it--and the pencil out of the tray." + +Eagerly watched by Mrs. Inchbare, she wrote an order to the +poultry-woman, and held it out with a gracious smile. + +"Take that to the gardener's wife. If you agree with her about +the price, you can have the cock and the two pullets." + +Mrs. Inchbare opened her lips--no doubt to express the utmost +extremity of human gratitude. Before she had said three words, +Lady Lundie's impatience to reach the end which she had kept in +view from the time when Mrs. Glenarm had left the house burst the +bounds which had successfully restrained it thus far. Stopping +the landlady without ceremony, she fairly forced the conversation +to the subject of Anne Silvester's proceedings at the Craig +Fernie inn. + +"How are you getting on at the hotel, Mrs. Inchbare? Plenty of +tourists, I suppose, at this time of year?" + +"Full, my leddy (praise Providence), frae the basement to the +ceiling." + +"You had a visitor, I think, some time since of whom I know +something? A person--" She paused, and put a strong constraint on +herself. There was no alternative but to yield to the hard +necessity of making her inquiry intelligible. "A lady," she +added, "who came to you about the middle of last month." + +"Could yer leddyship condescend on her name?" + +Lady Lundie put a still stronger constraint on herself. +"Silvester," she said, sharply. + +"Presairve us a'!" cried Mrs. Inchbare. "It will never be the +same that cam' driftin' in by hersel'--wi' a bit bag in her hand, +and a husband left daidling an hour or mair on the road behind +her?" + +"I have no doubt it is the same." + +"Will she be a freend o' yer leddyship's?" asked Mrs. Inchbare, +feeling her ground cautiously. + +"Certainly not!" said Lady Lundie. "I felt a passing curiosity +about her--nothing more." + +Mrs. Inchbare looked relieved. "To tell ye truth, my leddy, there +was nae love lost between us. She had a maisterfu' temper o' her +ain--and I was weel pleased when I'd seen the last of her." + +"I can quite understand that, Mrs. Inchbare--I know something of +her temper myself. Did I understand you to say that she came to +your hotel alone, and that her husband joined her shortly +afterward?" + +"E'en sae, yer leddyship. I was no' free to gi' her house-room in +the hottle till her husband daidled in at her heels and answered +for her." + +"I fancy I must have seen her husband," said Lady Lundie. "What +sort of a man was he?" + +Mrs. Inchbare replied in much the same words which she had used +in answering the similar question put by Sir Patrick. + +"Eh! he was ower young for the like o' _her._ A pratty man, my +leddy--betwixt tall and short; wi' bonny brown eyes and cheeks, +and fine coal-blaik hair. A nice douce-spoken lad. I hae naething +to say against him--except that he cam' late one day, and took +leg-bail betimes the next morning, and left madam behind, a load +on my hands." + +The answer produced precisely the same effect on Lady Lundie +which it had produced on Sir Patrick. She, also, felt that it was +too vaguely like too many young men of no uncommon humor and +complexion to be relied on. But her ladyship possessed one +immense advantage over her brother-in-law in attempting to arrive +at the truth. _She_ suspected Arnold--and it was possible, in her +case, to assist Mrs. Inchbare's memory by hints contributed from +her own superior resources of experience and observation. + +"Had he any thing about him of the look and way of a sailor?" she +asked. "And did you notice, when you spoke to him, that he had a +habit of playing with a locket on his watch-chain?" + +There he is, het aff to a T!" cried Mrs. Inchbare. "Yer +leddyship's weel acquented wi' him--there's nae doot o' that." + +"I thought I had seen him," said Lady Lundie. "A modest, +well-behaved young man, Mrs. Inchbare, as you say. Don't let me +keep you any longer from the poultry-yard. I am transgressing the +doctor's orders in seeing any body. We quite understand each +other now, don't we? Very glad to have seen you. Good-evening." + +So she dismissed Mrs. Inchbare, when Mrs. Inchbare had served her +purpose. + +Most women, in her position, would have been content with the +information which she had now obtained. But Lady Lundie--having a +man like Sir Patrick to deal with--determined to be doubly sure +of her facts before she ventured on interfering at Ham Farm. She +had learned from Mrs. Inchbare that the so-called husband of Anne +Silvester had joined her at Craig Fernie on the day when she +arrived at the inn, and had left her again the next morning. Anne +had made her escape from Windygates on the occasion of the +lawn-party--that is to say, on the fourteenth of August. On the +same day Arnold Brinkworth had taken his departure for the +purpose of visiting the Scotch property left to him by his aunt. +If Mrs. Inchbare was to be depended on, he must have gone to +Craig Fernie instead of going to his appointed destination--and +must, therefore, have arrived to visit his house and lands one +day later than the day which he had originally set apart for that +purpose. If this fact could be proved, on the testimony of a +disinterested witness, the case against Arnold would be +strengthened tenfold; and Lady Lundie might act on her discovery +with something like a certainty that her information was to be +relied on. + +After a little consideration she decided on sending a messenger +with a note of inquiry addressed to Arnold's steward. The apology +she invented to excuse and account for the strangeness of the +proposed question, referred it to a little family discussion as +to the exact date of Arnold's arrival at his estate, and to a +friendly wager in which the difference of opinion had ended. If +the steward could state whether his employer had arrived on the +fourteenth or on the fifteenth of August, that was all that would +be wanted to decide the question in dispute. + +Having written in those terms, Lady Lundie gave the necessary +directions for having the note delivered at the earliest possible +hour on the next morning; the messenger being ordered to make his +way back to Windygates by the first return train on the same day. + +This arranged, her ladyship was free to refresh herself with +another dose of the red lavender draught, and to sleep the sleep +of the just who close their eyes with the composing conviction +that they have done their duty. + + + +The events of the next day at Windygates succeeded each other in +due course, as follows: + +The post arrived, and brought no reply from Sir Patrick. Lady +Lundie entered that incident on her mental register of debts owed +by her brother-in-law--to be paid, with interest, when the day of +reckoning came. + +Next in order occurred the return of the messenger with the +steward's answer. + +He had referred to his Diary; and he had discovered that Mr. +Brinkworth had written beforehand to announce his arrival at his +estate for the fourteenth of August--but that he had not actually +appeared until the fifteenth. The one discovery needed to +substantiate Mrs. Inchbare's evidence being now in Lady Lundie's +possession, she decided to allow another day to pass--on the +chance that Sir Patrick might al ter his mind, and write to her. +If no letter arrived, and if nothing more was received from +Blanche, she resolved to leave Windygates by the next morning's +train, and to try the bold experiment of personal interference at +Ham Farm. + +The third in the succession of events was the appearance of the +doctor to pay his professional visit. + +A severe shock awaited him. He found his patient cured by the +draught! It was contrary to all rule and precedent; it savored of +quackery--the red lavender had no business to do what the red +lavender had done--but there she was, nevertheless, up and +dressed, and contemplating a journey to London on the next day +but one. "An act of duty, doctor, is involved in this--whatever +the sacrifice, I must go!" No other explanation could be +obtained. The patient was plainly determined--nothing remained +for the physician but to retreat with unimpaired dignity and a +paid fee. He did it. "Our art," he explained to Lady Lundie in +confidence, "is nothing, after all, but a choice between +alternatives. For instance. I see you--not cured, as you +think--but sustained by abnormal excitement. I have to ask which +is the least of the two evils--to risk letting you travel, or to +irritate you by keeping you at home. With your constitution, we +must risk the journey. Be careful to keep the window of the +carriage up on the side on which the wind blows. Let the +extremities be moderately warm, and the mind easy--and pray don't +omit to provide yourself with a second bottle of the Mixture +before you start." He made his bow, as before--he slipped two +guineas into his pocket, as before--and he went his way, as +before, with an approving conscience, in the character of a +physician who had done his duty. (What an enviable profession is +Medicine! And why don't we all belong to it?) + +The last of the events was the arrival of Mrs. Glenarm. + +"Well?" she began, eagerly, "what news?" + +The narrative of her ladyship's discoveries--recited at full +length; and the announcement of her ladyship's +resolution--declared in the most uncompromising terms--raised +Mrs. Glenarm's excitement to the highest pitch. + +"You go to town on Saturday?" she said. "I will go with you. Ever +since that woman declared she should be in London before me, I +have been dying to hasten my journey--and it is such an +opportunity to go with you! I can easily manage it. My uncle and +I were to have met in London, early next week, for the foot-race. +I have only to write and tell him of my change of +plans.--By-the-by, talking of my uncle, I have heard, since I saw +you, from the lawyers at Perth." + +"More anonymous letters?" + +"One more--received by the lawyers this time. My unknown +correspondent has written to them to withdraw his proposal, and +to announce that he has left Perth. The lawyers recommended me to +stop my uncle from spending money uselessly in employing the +London police. I have forwarded their letter to the captain; and +he will probably be in town to see his solicitors as soon as I +get there with you. So much for what _I_ have done in this +matter. Dear Lady Lundie--when we are at our journey's end, what +do _you_ mean to do?" + +"My course is plain," answered her ladyship, calmly. "Sir Patrick +will hear from me, on Sunday morning next, at Ham Farm." + +"Telling him what you have found out?" + +"Certainly not! Telling him that I find myself called to London +by business, and that I propose paying him a short visit on +Monday next." + +"Of course, he must receive you?" + +"I think there is no doubt of that. Even _his_ hatred of his +brother's widow can hardly go to the length--after leaving my +letter unanswered--of closing his doors against me next." + +"How will you manage it when you get there?" + +"When I get there, my dear, I shall be breathing an atmosphere of +treachery and deceit; and, for my poor child's sake (abhorrent as +all dissimulation is to me), I must be careful what I do. Not a +word will escape my lips until I have first seen Blanche in +private. However painful it may be, I shall not shrink from my +duty, if my duty compels me to open her eyes to the truth. Sir +Patrick and Mr. Brinkworth will have somebody else besides an +inexperienced young creature to deal with on Monday next. I shall +be there." + +With that formidable announcement, Lady Lundie closed the +conversation; and Mrs. Glenarm rose to take her leave. + +"We meet at the Junction, dear Lady Lundie?" + +"At the Junction, on Saturday." + + +ELEVENTH SCENE.--SIR PATRICK'S HOUSE. + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-SECOND. + +THE SMOKING-ROOM WINDOW. + +"I CAN'T believe it! I won't believe it! You're trying to part me +from my husband--you're trying to set me against my dearest +friend. It's infamous. It's horrible. What have I done to you? +Oh, my head! my head! Are you trying to drive me mad?" + +Pale and wild; her hands twisted in her hair; her feet hurrying +her aimlessly to and fro in the room--so Blanche answered her +step-mother, when the object of Lady Lundie's pilgrimage had been +accomplished, and the cruel truth had been plainly told. + +Her ladyship sat, superbly composed, looking out through the +window at the placid landscape of woods and fields which +surrounded Ham Farm. + +"I was prepared for this outbreak," she said, sadly. "These wild +words relieve your over-burdened heart, my poor child. I can +wait, Blanche--I can wait!" + +Blanche stopped, and confronted Lady Lundie. + +"You and I never liked each other," she said. "I wrote you a pert +letter from this place. I have always taken Anne's part against +you. I have shown you plainly--rudely, I dare say--that I was +glad to be married and get away from you. This is not your +revenge, is it?" + +"Oh, Blanche, Blanche, what thoughts to think! what words to say! +I can only pray for you." + +"I am mad, Lady Lundie. You bear with mad people. Bear with me. I +have been hardly more than a fortnight married. I love _him_--I +love _her_--with all my heart. Remember what you have told me +about them. Remember! remember! remember!" + +She reiterated the words with a low cry of pain. Her hands went +up to her head again; and she returned restlessly to pacing this +way and that in the room. + +Lady Lundie tried the effect of a gentle remonstrance. "For your +own sake," she said, "don't persist in estranging yourself from +me. In this dreadful trial, I am the only friend you have." + +Blanche came back to her step-mother's chair; and looked at her +steadily, in silence. Lady Lundie submitted to inspection--and +bore it perfectly. + +"Look into my heart," she said. "Blanche! it bleeds for you!" + +Blanche heard, without heeding. Her mind was painfully intent on +its own thoughts. "You are a religious woman," she said, +abruptly. "Will you swear on your Bible, that what you told me is +true?" + +"_My_ Bible!" repeated Lady Lundie with sorrowful emphasis. "Oh, +my child! have _you_ no part in that precious inheritance? Is it +not _your_ Bible, too?" + +A momentary triumph showed itself in Blanche's face. "You daren't +swear it!" she said. "That's enough for me!" + +She turned away scornfully. Lady Lundie caught her by the hand, +and drew her sharply back. The suffering saint disappeared, and +the woman who was no longer to be trifled with took her place. + +"There must be an end to this," she said. "You don't believe what +I have told you. Have you courage enough to put it to the test?" + +Blanche started, and released her hand. She trembled a little. +There was a horrible certainty of conviction expressed in Lady +Lundie's sudden change of manner. + +"How?" she asked. + +"You shall see. Tell me the truth, on your side, first. Where is +Sir Patrick? Is he really out, as his servant told me?" + +"Yes. He is out with the farm bailiff. You have taken us all by +surprise. You wrote that we were to expect you by the next +train." + +"When does the next train arrive? It is eleven o'clock now." + +"Between one and two." + +"Sir Patrick will not be back till then?" + +"Not till then." + +"Where is Mr. Brinkworth?" + +"My husband?" + +"Your husband--if you like. Is he out, too?" + +"He is in the smoking-room." + +"Do you mean the long room, built out from the back of the +house?" + +"Yes." + +"Come down stairs at once with me." + +Blanche advanced a step--and drew back. "What do you want of me?" +she asked, inspired by a + sudden distrust. + +Lady Lundie turned round, and looked at her impatiently. + +"Can't you see yet," she said, sharply, "that your interest and +my interest in this matter are one? What have I told you?" + +"Don't repeat it!" + +"I must repeat it! I have told you that Arnold Brinkworth was +privately at Craig Fernie, with Miss Silvester, in the +acknowledged character of her husband--when we supposed him to be +visiting the estate left him by his aunt. You refuse to believe +it--and I am about to put it to the proof. Is it your interest or +is it not, to know whether this man deserves the blind belief +that you place in him?" + +Blanche trembled from head to foot, and made no reply. + +"I am going into the garden, to speak to Mr. Brinkworth through +the smoking-room window," pursued her ladyship. "Have you the +courage to come with me; to wait behind out of sight; and to hear +what he says with his own lips? I am not afraid of putting it to +that test. Are you?" + +The tone in which she asked the question roused Blanche's spirit. + +"If I believed him to be guilty," she said, resolutely, "I should +_not_ have the courage. I believe him to be innocent. Lead the +way, Lady Lundie, as soon as you please." + +They left the room--Blanche's own room at Ham Farm--and descended +to the hall. Lady Lundie stopped, and consulted the railway +time-table hanging near the house-door. + +"There is a train to London at a quarter to twelve," she said. +"How long does it take to walk to the station?" + +"Why do you ask?" + +"You will soon know. Answer my question." + +"It's a walk of twenty minutes to the station." + +Lady Lundie referred to her watch. "There will be just time," she +said. + +"Time for what?" + +"Come into the garden." + +With that answer, she led the way out + +The smoking-room projected at right angles from the wall of the +house, in an oblong form--with a bow-window at the farther end, +looking into the garden. Before she turned the corner, and showed +herself within the range of view from the window Lady Lundie +looked back, and signed to Blanche to wait behind the angle of +the wall. Blanche waited. + +The next instant she heard the voices in conversation through the +open window. Arnold's voice was the first that spoke. + +"Lady Lundie! Why, we didn't expect you till luncheon time!" + +Lady Lundie was ready with her answer. + +"I was able to leave town earlier than I had anticipated. Don't +put out your cigar; and don't move. I am not coming in." + +The quick interchange of question and answer went on; every word +being audible in the perfect stillness of the place. Arnold was +the next to speak. + +"Have you seen Blanche?" + +"Blanche is getting ready to go out with me. We mean to have a +walk together. I have many things to say to her. Before we go, I +have something to say to _you._" + +"Is it any thing very serious?" + +"It is most serious." + +"About me?" + +"About you. I know where you went on the evening of my lawn-party +at Windygates--you went to Craig Fernie." + +"Good Heavens! how did you find out--?" + +"I know whom you went to meet--Miss Silvester. I know what is +said of you and of her--you are man and wife." + +"Hush! don't speak so loud. Somebody may hear you!" + +"What does it matter if they do? I am the only person whom you +have kept out of the secret. You all of you know it here." + +"Nothing of the sort! Blanche doesn't know it." + +"What! Neither you nor Sir Patrick has told Blanche of the +situation you stand in at this moment?" + +"Not yet. Sir Patrick leaves it to me. I haven't been able to +bring myself to do it. Don't say a word, I entreat you. I don't +know how Blanche may interpret it. Her friend is expected in +London to-morrow. I want to wait till Sir Patrick can bring them +together. Her friend will break it to her better than I can. It's +_my_ notion. Sir Patrick thinks it a good one. Stop! you're not +going away already?" + +"She will be here to look for me if I stay any longer." + +"One word! I want to know--" + +"You shall know later in the day." + + + +Her ladyship appeared again round the angle of the wall. The next +words that passed were words spoken in a whisper. + +"Are you satisfied now, Blanche?" + +"Have you mercy enough left, Lady Lundie, to take me away from +this house?" + +"My dear child! Why else did I look at the time-table in the +hall?" + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-THIRD. + +THE EXPLOSION. + +ARNOLD'S mind was far from easy when he was left by himself again +in the smoking-room. + +After wasting some time in vainly trying to guess at the source +from which Lady Lundie had derived her information, he put on his +hat, and took the direction which led to Blanche's favorite walk +at Ham Farm. Without absolutely distrusting her ladyship's +discretion, the idea had occurred to him that he would do well to +join his wife and her step-mother. By making a third at the +interview between them, he might prevent the conversation from +assuming a perilously confidential turn. + +The search for the ladies proved useless. They had not taken the +direction in which he supposed them to have gone. + +He returned to the smoking-room, and composed himself to wait for +events as patiently as he might. In this passive position--with +his thoughts still running on Lady Lundie--his memory reverted to +a brief conversation between Sir Patrick and himself, occasioned, +on the previous day, by her ladyship's announcement of her +proposed visit to Ham Farm. Sir Patrick had at once expressed his +conviction that his sister-in-law's journey south had some +acknowledged purpose at the bottom of it. + +"I am not at all sure, Arnold" (he had said), "that I have done +wisely in leaving her letter unanswered. And I am strongly +disposed to think that the safest course will be to take her into +the secret when she comes to-morrow. We can't help the position +in which we are placed. It was impossible (without admitting your +wife to our confidence) to prevent Blanche from writing that +unlucky letter to her--and, even if we had prevented it, she must +have heard in other ways of your return to England. I don't doubt +my own discretion, so far; and I don't doubt the convenience of +keeping her in the dark, as a means of keeping her from meddling +in this business of yours, until I have had time to set it right. +But she may, by some unlucky accident, discover the truth for +herself--and, in that case, I strongly distrust the influence +which she might attempt to exercise on Blanche's mind." + +Those were the words--and what had happened on the day after they +had been spoken? Lady Lundie _had_ discovered the truth; and she +was, at that moment, alone somewhere with Blanche. Arnold took up +his hat once more, and set forth on the search for the ladies in +another direction. + +The second expedition was as fruitless as the first. Nothing was +to be seen, and nothing was to be heard, of Lady Lundie and +Blanche. + +Arnold's watch told him that it was not far from the time when +Sir Patrick might be expected to return. In all probability, +while he had been looking for them, the ladies had gone back by +some other way to the house. He entered the rooms on the +ground-floor, one after another. They were all empty. He went up +stairs, and knocked at the door of Blanche's room. There was no +answer. He opened the door and looked in. The room was empty, +like the rooms down stairs. But, close to the entrance, there was +a trifling circumstance to attract notice, in the shape of a note +lying on the carpet. He picked it up, and saw that it was +addressed to him in the handwriting of his wife. + +He opened it. The note began, without the usual form of address, +in these words: + +"I know the abominable secret that you and my uncle have hidden +from me. I know _your_ infamy, and _her_ infamy, and the position +in which, thanks to you and to her, I now stand. Reproaches would +be wasted words, addressed to such a man as you are. I write +these lines to tell you that I have placed myself under my +step-mother's protection in London. It is useless to attempt to +follow me. Others will find out whether the ceremony of marriage +which you went through with me is binding on you or not. For +myself, I know enough already. I have gone, never to come back, +and never to let you see me again.--Blanche." + +Hurrying headlong down the stairs with but one clear idea in his +mind--the idea of instantly following his wife--Arnold +encountered Sir Patrick, standing by a table in the hall, on +which cards and notes left by visitors were usually placed, with +an open letter in his hand. Seeing in an instant what had +happened, he threw one of his arms round Arnold, and stopped him +at the house-door. + +"You are a man," he said, firmly. "Bear it like a man." + +Arnold's head fell on the shoulder of his kind old friend. He +burst into tears. + +Sir Patrick let the irrepressible outbreak of grief have its way. +In those first moments, silence was mercy. He said nothing. The +letter which he had been reading (from Lady Lundie, it is +needless to say), dropped unheeded at his feet. + +Arnold lifted his head, and dashed away the tears. + +"I am ashamed of myself," he said. "Let me go." + +"Wrong, my poor fellow--doubly wrong!" returned Sir Patrick. +"There is no shame in shedding such tears as those. And there is +nothing to be done by leaving _me._" + +"I must and will see her!" + +"Read that," said Sir Patrick, pointing to the letter on the +floor. "See your wife? Your wife is with the woman who has +written those lines. Read them." + +Arnold read them. + + + +"DEAR SIR PATRICK,--If you had honored me with your confidence, I +should have been happy to consult you before I interfered to +rescue Blanche from the position in which Mr. Brinkworth has +placed her. As it is, your late brother's child is under my +protection at my house in London. If _you_ attempt to exercise +your authority, it must be by main force--I will submit to +nothing less. If Mr. Brinkworth attempts to exercise _his_ +authority, he shall establish his right to do so (if he can) in a +police-court. + +"Very truly yours, JULIA LUNDIE. + + + +Arnold's resolution was not to be shaken even by this. "What do I +care," he burst out, hotly, "whether I am dragged through the +streets by the police or not! I _will_ see my wife. I _will_ +clear myself of the horrible suspicion she has about me. You have +shown me your letter. Look at mine!" + +Sir Patrick's clear sense saw the wild words that Blanche had +written in their true light. + +"Do you hold your wife responsible for that letter?" be asked. "I +see her step-mother in every line of it. You descend to something +unworthy of you, if you seriously defend yourself against _this!_ +You can't see it? You persist in holding to your own view? Write, +then. You can't get to her--your letter may. No! When you leave +this house, you leave it with me. I have conceded something on my +side, in allowing you to write. I insist on your conceding +something, on your side, in return. Come into the library! I +answer for setting things right between you and Blanche, if you +will place your interests in my hands. Do you trust me or not?" + +Arnold yielded. They went into the library together. Sir Patrick +pointed to the writing-table. "Relieve your mind there," he said. +"And let me find you a reasonable man again when I come back." + +When he returned to the library the letter was written; and +Arnold's mind was so far relieved--for the time at least. + +"I shall take your letter to Blanche myself," said Sir Patrick, +"by the train that leaves for London in half an hour's time." + +"You will let me go with you?" + +"Not to-day. I shall be back this evening to dinner. You shall +hear all that has happened; and you shall accompany me to London +to-morrow--if I find it necessary to make any lengthened stay +there. Between this and then, after the shock that you have +suffered, you will do well to be quiet here. Be satisfied with my +assurance that Blanche shall have your letter. I will force my +authority on her step-mother to that extent (if her step-mother +resists) without scruple. The respect in which I hold the sex +only lasts as long as the sex deserves it--and does _not_ extend +to Lady Lundie. There is no advantage that a man can take of a +woman which I am not fully prepared to take of my sister-in-law." + +With that characteristic farewell, he shook hands with Arnold, +and departed for the station. + + + +At seven o'clock the dinner was on the table. At seven o'clock +Sir Patrick came down stairs to eat it, as perfectly dressed as +usual, and as composed as if nothing had happened. + +"She has got your letter," he whispered, as he took Arnold's arm, +and led him into the dining-room. + +"Did she say any thing?" + +"Not a word." + +"How did she look?" + +"As she ought to look--sorry for what she has done." + +The dinner began. As a matter of necessity, the subject of Sir +Patrick's expedition was dropped while the servants were in the +room--to be regularly taken up again by Arnold in the intervals +between the courses. He began when the soup was taken away. + +"I confess I had hoped to see Blanche come back with you!" he +said, sadly enough. + +"In other words," returned Sir Patrick, "you forgot the native +obstinacy of the sex. Blanche is beginning to feel that she has +been wrong. What is the necessary consequence? She naturally +persists in being wrong. Let her alone, and leave your letter to +have its effect. The serious difficulties in our way don't rest +with Blanche. Content yourself with knowing that." + +The fish came in, and Arnold was silenced--until his next +opportunity came with the next interval in the course of the +dinner. + +"What are the difficulties?" he asked + +"The difficulties are my difficulties and yours," answered Sir +Patrick. "My difficulty is, that I can't assert my authority, as +guardian, if I assume my niece (as I do) to be a married woman. +Your difficulty is, that you can't assert your authority as her +husband, until it is distinctly proved that you and Miss +Silvester are not man and wife. Lady Lundie was perfectly aware +that she would place us in that position, when she removed +Blanche from this house. She has cross-examined Mrs. Inchbare; +she has written to your steward for the date of your arrival at +your estate; she has done every thing, calculated every thing, +and foreseen every thing--except my excellent temper. The one +mistake she has made, is in thinking she could get the better of +_that._ No, my dear boy! My trump card is my temper. I keep it in +my hand, Arnold--I keep it in my hand!" + +The next course came in--and there was an end of the subject +again. Sir Patrick enjoyed his mutton, and entered on a long and +interesting narrative of the history of some rare white Burgundy +on the table imported by himself. Arnold resolutely resumed the +discussion with the departure of the mutton. + +"It seems to be a dead lock," he said. + +"No slang!" retorted Sir Patrick. + +"For Heaven's sake, Sir, consider my anxiety, and tell me what +you propose to do!" + +"I propose to take you to London with me to-morrow, on this +condition--that you promise me, on your word of honor, not to +attempt to see your wife before Saturday next." + +"I shall see her then?" + +"If you give me your promise." + +"I do! I do!" + +The next course came in. Sir Patrick entered on the question of +the merits of the partridge, viewed as an eatable bird, "By +himself, Arnold--plainly roasted, and tested on his own +merits--an overrated bird. Being too fond of shooting him in this +country, we become too fond of eating him next. Properly +understood, he is a vehicle for sauce and truffles--nothing more. +Or no--that is hardly doing him justice. I am bound to add that +he is honorably associated with the famous French receipt for +cooking an olive. Do you know it?" + +There was an end of the bird; there was an end of the jelly. +Arnold got his next chance--and took it. + +"What is to be done in London to-morrow?" he asked. + +"To-morrow," answered Sir Patrick, "is a memorable day in our +calendar. To-morrow is Tuesday--the day on which I am to see Miss +Silvester." + +Arnold set down the glass of wine which he was just raising to +his lips. + +"After what has happened," he said, "I can hardly bear to hear +her name mentioned. Miss Silvester has parted me from my wife." + +"Miss Silvester may atone for that, Arnold, by uniting you +again." + +"She has been the ruin of me so far." + +"She may be the salvation of you yet." + +The cheese came in; and Sir Patrick returned to the Art of +Cookery. + +"Do you know the receipt for cooking an olive, Arnold?" + +"No." + +"What _does_ the new + generation know? It knows how to row, how to shoot, how to play +at cricket, and how to bat. When it has lost its muscle and lost +its money--that is to say, when it has grown old--what a +generation it will be! It doesn't matter: I sha'n't live to see +it. Are you listening, Arnold?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"How to cook an olive! Put an olive into a lark, put a lark into +a quail; put a quail into a plover; put a plover into a +partridge; put a partridge into a pheasant; put a pheasant into a +turkey. Good. First, partially roast, then carefully stew--until +all is thoroughly done down to the olive. Good again. Next, open +the window. Throw out the turkey, the pheasant, the partridge, +the plover, the quail, and the lark. _Then, eat the olive._ The +dish is expensive, but (we have it on the highest authority) well +worth the sacrifice. The quintessence of the flavor of six birds, +concentrated in one olive. Grand idea! Try another glass of the +white Burgundy, Arnold." + +At last the servants left them--with the wine and dessert on the +table. + +"I have borne it as long as I can, Sir," said Arnold. "Add to all +your kindness to me by telling me at once what happened at Lady +Lundie's." + +It was a chilly evening. A bright wood fire was burning in the +room. Sir Patrick drew his chair to the fire. + +"This is exactly what happened," he said. "I found company at +Lady Lundie's, to begin with. Two perfect strangers to me. +Captain Newenden, and his niece, Mrs. Glenarm. Lady Lundie +offered to see me in another room; the two strangers offered to +withdraw. I declined both proposals. First check to her ladyship! +She has reckoned throughout, Arnold, on our being afraid to face +public opinion. I showed her at starting that we were as ready to +face it as she was. 'I always accept what the French call +accomplished facts,' I said. 'You have brought matters to a +crisis, Lady Lundie. So let it be. I have a word to say to my +niece (in your presence, if you like); and I have another word to +say to you afterward--without presuming to disturb your guests.' +The guests sat down again (both naturally devoured by curiosity). +Could her ladyship decently refuse me an interview with my own +niece, while two witnesses were looking on? Impossible. I saw +Blanche (Lady Lundie being present, it is needless to say) in the +back drawing-room. I gave her your letter; I said a good word for +you; I saw that she was sorry, though she wouldn't own it--and +that was enough. We went back into the front drawing-room. I had +not spoken five words on our side of the question before it +appeared, to my astonishment and delight, that Captain Newenden +was in the house on the very question that had brought me into +the house--the question of you and Miss Silvester. My business, +in the interests of _my_ niece, was to deny your marriage to the +lady. His business, in the interests of _his_ niece, was to +assert your marriage to the lady. To the unutterable disgust of +the two women, we joined issue, in the most friendly manner, on +the spot. 'Charmed to have the pleasure of meeting you, Captain +Newenden.'--'Delighted to have the honor of making your +acquaintance, Sir Patrick.'--'I think we can settle this in two +minutes?'--'My own idea perfectly expressed.'--'State your +position, Captain.'--'With the greatest pleasure. Here is my +niece, Mrs. Glenarm, engaged to marry Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn. All +very well, but there happens to be an obstacle--in the shape of a +lady. Do I put it plainly?'--'You put it admirably, Captain; but +for the loss to the British navy, you ought to have been a +lawyer. Pray, go on.'--'You are too good, Sir Patrick. I resume. +Mr. Delamayn asserts that this person in the back-ground has no +claim on him, and backs his assertion by declaring that she is +married already to Mr. Arnold Brinkworth. Lady Lundie and my +niece assure me, on evidence which satisfies _them,_ that the +assertion is true. The evidence does not satisfy _me._ 'I hope, +Sir Patrick, I don't strike you as being an excessively obstinate +man?'--'My dear Sir, you impress me with the highest opinion of +your capacity for sifting human testimony! May I ask, next, what +course you mean to take?'--'The very thing I was going to +mention, Sir Patrick! This is my course. I refuse to sanction my +niece's engagement to Mr. Delamayn, until Mr. Delamayn has +actually proved his statement by appeal to witnesses of the +lady's marriage. He refers me to two witnesses; but declines +acting at once in the matter for himself, on the ground that he +is in training for a foot-race. I admit that that is an obstacle, +and consent to arrange for bringing the two witnesses to London +myself. By this post I have written to my lawyers in Perth to +look the witnesses up; to offer them the necessary terms (at Mr. +Delamayn's expense) for the use of their time; and to produce +them by the end of the week. The footrace is on Thursday next. +Mr. Delamayn will be able to attend after that, and establish his +own assertion by his own witnesses. What do you say, Sir Patrick, +to Saturday next (with Lady Lundie's permission) in this +room?'--There is the substance of the captain's statement. He is +as old as I am and is dressed to look like thirty; but a very +pleasant fellow for all that. I struck my sister-in-law dumb by +accepting the proposal without a moment's hesitation. Mrs. +Glenarm and Lady Lundie looked at each other in mute amazement. +Here was a difference about which two women would have mortally +quarreled; and here were two men settling it in the friendliest +possible manner. I wish you had seen Lady Lundie's face, when I +declared myself deeply indebted to Captain Newenden for rendering +any prolonged interview with her ladyship quite unnecessary. +'Thanks to the captain,' I said to her, in the most cordial +manner, 'we have absolutely nothing to discuss. I shall catch the +next train, and set Arnold Brinkworth's mind quite at ease.' To +come back to serious things, I have engaged to produce you, in +the presence of every body--your wife included--on Saturday next. +I put a bold face on it before the others. But I am bound to tell +_you_ that it is by no means easy to say--situated as we are +now--what the result of Saturday's inquiry will be. Every thing +depends on the issue of my interview with Miss Silvester +to-morrow. It is no exaggeration to say, Arnold, that your fate +is in her hands." + +"I wish to heaven I had never set eyes on her!" said Arnold. + +"Lay the saddle on the right horse," returned Sir Patrick. "Wish +you had never set eyes on Geoffrey Delamayn." + +Arnold hung his head. Sir Patrick's sharp tongue had got the +better of him once more. + + +TWELFTH SCENE.--DRURY LANE. + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-FOURTH. + +THE LETTER AND THE LAW. + +THE many-toned murmur of the current of London life--flowing +through the murky channel of Drury Lane--found its muffled way +from the front room to the back. Piles of old music lumbered the +dusty floor. Stage masks and weapons, and portraits of singers +and dancers, hung round the walls. An empty violin case in one +corner faced a broken bust of Rossini in another. A frameless +print, representing the Trial of Queen Caroline, was pasted over +the fireplace. The chairs were genuine specimens of ancient +carving in oak. The table was an equally excellent example of +dirty modern deal. A small morsel of drugget was on the floor; +and a large deposit of soot was on the ceiling. The scene thus +presented, revealed itself in the back drawing-room of a house in +Drury Lane, devoted to the transaction of musical and theatrical +business of the humbler sort. It was late in the afternoon, on +Michaelmas-day. Two persons were seated together in the room: +they were Anne Silvester and Sir Patrick Lundie. + +The opening conversation between them--comprising, on one side, +the narrative of what had happened at Perth and at Swanhaven; +and, on the other, a statement of the circumstances attending the +separation of Arnold and Blanche--had come to an end. It rested +with Sir Patrick to lead the way to the next topic. He looked at +his companion, and hesitated. + +"Do you feel strong enough to go on?" he asked. "If you would +prefer to rest a little, pray say so." + +"Thank you, Sir Patrick. I am more than ready, I a m eager, to go +on. No words can say how anxious I feel to be of some use to you, +if I can. It rests entirely with your experience to show me how." + +"I can only do that, Miss Silvester, by asking you without +ceremony for all the information that I want. Had you any object +in traveling to London, which you have not mentioned to me yet? I +mean, of course, any object with which I hare a claim (as Arnold +Brinkworth's representative) to be acquainted?" + +"I had an object, Sir Patrick. And I have failed to accomplish +it." + +"May I ask what it was?" + +"It was to see Geoffrey Delamayn." + +Sir Patrick started. "You have attempted to see _him!_ When?" + +"This morning." + +"Why, you only arrived in London last night!" + +"I only arrived," said Anne, "after waiting many days on the +journey. I was obliged to rest at Edinburgh, and again at +York--and I was afraid I had given Mrs. Glenarm time enough to +get to Geoffrey Delamayn before me." + +"Afraid?" repeated Sir Patrick. "I understood that you had no +serious intention of disputing the scoundrel with Mrs. Glenarm. +What motive could possibly have taken you _his_ way?" + +"The same motive which took me to Swanhaven." + +"What! the idea that it rested with Delamayn to set things right? +and that you might bribe him to do it, by consenting to release +him, so far as your claims were concerned?" + +"Bear with my folly, Sir Patrick, as patiently as you can! I am +always alone now; and I get into a habit of brooding over things. +I have been brooding over the position in which my misfortunes +have placed Mr. Brinkworth. I have been obstinate--unreasonably +obstinate--in believing that I could prevail with Geoffrey +Delamayn, after I had failed with Mrs. Glenarm. I am obstinate +about it still. If he would only have heard me, my madness in +going to Fulham might have had its excuse." She sighed bitterly, +and said no more. + +Sir Patrick took her hand. + +"It _has_ its excuse," he said, kindly. "Your motive is beyond +reproach. Let me add--to quiet your mind--that, even if Delamayn +had been willing to hear you, and had accepted the condition, the +result would still have been the same. You are quite wrong in +supposing that he has only to speak, and to set this matter +right. It has passed entirely beyond his control. The mischief +was done when Arnold Brinkworth spent those unlucky hours with +you at Craig Fernie." + +"Oh, Sir Patrick, if I had only known that, before I went to +Fulham this morning!" + +She shuddered as she said the words. Something was plainly +associated with her visit to Geoffrey, the bare remembrance of +which shook her nerves. What was it? Sir Patrick resolved to +obtain an answer to that question, before be ventured on +proceeding further with the main object of the interview. + +"You have told me your reason for going to Fulham," he said. "But +I have not heard what happened there yet." + +Anne hesitated. "Is it necessary for me to trouble you about +that?" she asked--with evident reluctance to enter on the +subject. + +"It is absolutely necessary," answered Sir Patrick, "because +Delamayn is concerned in it." + +Anne summoned her resolution, and entered on her narrative in +these words: + + + +"The person who carries on the business here discovered the +address for me," she began. "I had some difficulty, however, in +finding the house. It is little more than a cottage; and it is +quite lost in a great garden, surrounded by high walls. I saw a +carriage waiting. The coachman was walking his horses up and +down--and he showed me the door. It was a high wooden door in the +wall, with a grating in it. I rang the bell. A servant-girl +opened the grating, and looked at me. She refused to let me in. +Her mistress had ordered her to close the door on all +strangers--especially strangers who were women. I contrived to +pass some money to her through the grating, and asked to speak to +her mistress. After waiting some time, I saw another face behind +the bars--and it struck me that I recognized it. I suppose I was +nervous. It startled me. I said, 'I think we know each other.' +There was no answer. The door was suddenly opened--and who do you +think stood before me?" + +"Was it somebody I know?" + +"Yes." + +"Man? or woman?" + +"It was Hester Dethridge." + +"Hester Dethridge!" + +"Yes. Dressed just as usual, and looking just as usual--with her +slate hanging at her side." + +"Astonishing! Where did I last see her? At the Windygates +station, to be sure--going to London, after she had left my +sister-in-law's service. Has she accepted another place--without +letting me know first, as I told her?" + +"She is living at Fulham." + +"In service?" + +"No. As mistress of her own house." + +"What! Hester Dethridge in possession of a house of her own? +Well! well! why shouldn't she have a rise in the world like other +people? Did she let you in?" + +"She stood for some time looking at me, in that dull strange way +that she has. The servants at Windygates always said she was not +in her right mind--and you will say, Sir Patrick, when you hear +what happened, that the servants were not mistaken. She must be +mad. I said, 'Don't you remember me?' She lifted her slate, and +wrote, 'I remember you, in a dead swoon at Windygates House.' I +was quite unaware that she had been present when I fainted in the +library. The discovery startled me--or that dreadful, dead-cold +look that she has in her eyes startled me--I don't know which. I +couldn't speak to her just at first. She wrote on her slate +again--the strangest question--in these words: 'I said, at the +time, brought to it by a man. Did I say true?' If the question +had been put in the usual way, by any body else, I should have +considered it too insolent to be noticed. Can you understand my +answering it, Sir Patrick? I can't understand it myself, now--and +yet I did answer. She forced me to it with her stony eyes. I said +'yes.' " + +"Did all this take place at the door?" + +"At the door." + +"When did she let you in?" + +"The next thing she did was to let me in. She took me by the arm, +in a rough way, and drew me inside the door, and shut it. My +nerves are broken; my courage is gone. I crept with cold when she +touched me. She dropped my arm. I stood like a child, waiting for +what it pleased her to say or do next. She rested her two hands +on her sides, and took a long look at me. She made a horrid dumb +sound--not as if she was angry; more, if such a thing could be, +as if she was satisfied--pleased even, I should have said, if it +had been any body but Hester Dethridge. Do you understand it?" + +"Not yet. Let me get nearer to understanding it by asking +something before you go on. Did she show any attachment to you, +when you were both at Windygates?" + +"Not the least. She appeared to be incapable of attachment to me, +or to any body." + +"Did she write any more questions on her slate?" + +"Yes. She wrote another question under what she had written just +before. Her mind was still running on my fainting fit, and on the +'man' who had 'brought me to it.' She held up the slate; and the +words were these: 'Tell me how he served you, did he knock you +down?' Most people would have laughed at the question. _I_ was +startled by it. I told her, No. She shook her head as if she +didn't believe me. She wrote on her slate, 'We are loth to own it +when they up with their fists and beat us--ain't we?' I said, +'You are quite wrong.' She went on obstinately with her writing. +'Who is the man?'--was her next question. I had control enough +over myself to decline telling her that. She opened the door, and +pointed to me to go out. I made a sign entreating her to wait a +little. She went back, in her impenetrable way, to the writing on +the slate--still about the 'man.' This time, the question was +plainer still. She had evidently placed her own interpretation of +my appearance at the house. She wrote, 'Is it the man who lodges +here?' I saw that she would close the door on me if I didn't +answer. My only chance with her was to own that she had guessed +right. I said 'Yes. I want to see him.' She took me by the arm, +as roughly as before--and led me into the house." + +"I begin to understand her," said Sir Patrick. "I remember +hearing, in my brother's time, that she had been brutally +ill-used by her husband. The association of id eas, even in _her_ +confused brain, becomes plain, if you bear that in mind. What is +her last remembrance of you? It is the remembrance of a fainting +woman at Windygates." + +"Yes." + +"She makes you acknowledge that she has guessed right, in +guessing that a man was, in some way, answerable for the +condition in which she found you. A swoon produced by a shock +indicted on the mind, is a swoon that she doesn't understand. She +looks back into her own experience, and associates it with the +exercise of actual physical brutality on the part of the man. And +she sees, in you, a reflection of her own sufferings and her own +case. It's curious--to a student of human nature. And it +explains, what is otherwise unintelligible--her overlooking her +own instructions to the servant, and letting you into the house. +What happened next?" + +"She took me into a room, which I suppose was her own room. She +made signs, offering me tea. It was done in the strangest +way--without the least appearance of kindness. After what you +have just said to me, I think I can in some degree interpret what +was going on in her mind. I believe she felt a hard-hearted +interest in seeing a woman whom she supposed to be as unfortunate +as she had once been herself. I declined taking any tea, and +tried to return to the subject of what I wanted in the house. She +paid no heed to me. She pointed round the room; and then took me +to a window, and pointed round the garden--and then made a sign +indicating herself. 'My house; and my garden'--that was what she +meant. There were four men in the garden--and Geoffrey Delamayn +was one of them. I made another attempt to tell her that I wanted +to speak to him. But, no! She had her own idea in her mind. After +beckoning to me to leave the window, she led the way to the +fire-place, and showed me a sheet of paper with writing on it, +framed and placed under a glass, and hung on the wall. She +seemed, I thought, to feel some kind of pride in her framed +manuscript. At any rate, she insisted on my reading it. It was an +extract from a will." + +"The will under which she had inherited the house?" + +"Yes. Her brother's will. It said, that he regretted, on his +death-bed, his estrangement from his only sister, dating from the +time when she had married in defiance of his wishes and against +his advice. As a proof of his sincere desire to be reconciled +with her, before he died, and as some compensation for the +sufferings that she had endured at the hands of her deceased +husband, he left her an income of two hundred pounds a year, +together with the use of his house and garden, for her lifetime. +That, as well as I remember, was the substance of what it said." + +"Creditable to her brother, and creditable to herself," said Sir +Patrick. "Taking her odd character into consideration, I +understand her liking it to be seen. What puzzles me, is her +letting lodgings with an income of her own to live on." + +"That was the very question which I put to her myself. I was +obliged to be cautious, and to begin by asking about the lodgers +first--the men being still visible out in the garden, to excuse +the inquiry. The rooms to let in the house had (as I understood +her) been taken by a person acting for Geoffrey Delamayn--his +trainer, I presume. He had surprised Hester Dethridge by barely +noticing the house, and showing the most extraordinary interest +in the garden." + +"That is quite intelligible, Miss Silvester. The garden you have +described would be just the place he wanted for the exercises of +his employer--plenty of space, and well secured from observation +by the high walls all round. What next?" + +"Next, I got to the question of why she should let her house in +lodgings at all. When I asked her that, her face turned harder +than ever. She answered me on her slate in these dismal words: 'I +have not got a friend in the world. I dare not live alone.' There +was her reason! Dreary and dreadful, Sir Patrick, was it not?" + +"Dreary indeed! How did it end? Did you get into the garden?" + +"Yes--at the second attempt. She seemed suddenly to change her +mind; she opened the door for me herself. Passing the window of +the room in which I had left her, I looked back. She had taken +her place, at a table before the window, apparently watching for +what might happen. There was something about her, as her eyes met +mine (I can't say what), which made me feel uneasy at the time. +Adopting your view, I am almost inclined to think now, horrid as +the idea is, that she had the expectation of seeing me treated as +_she_ had been treated in former days. It was actually a relief +to me--though I knew I was going to run a serious risk--to lose +sight of her. As I got nearer to the men in the garden, I heard +two of them talking very earnestly to Geoffrey Delamayn. The +fourth person, an elderly gentleman, stood apart from the rest at +some little distance. I kept as far as I could out of sight, +waiting till the talk was over. It was impossible for me to help +hearing it. The two men were trying to persuade Geoffrey Delamayn +to speak to the elderly gentleman. They pointed to him as a +famous medical man. They reiterated over and over again, that his +opinion was well worth having--" + +Sir Patrick interrupted her. "Did they mention his name?" he +asked. + +"Yes. They called him Mr. Speedwell." + +"The man himself! This is even more interesting, Miss Silvester, +than you suppose. I myself heard Mr. Speedwell warn Delamayn that +he was in broken health, when we were visiting together at +Windygates House last month. Did he do as the other men wished +him? Did he speak to the surgeon?" + +"No. He sulkily refused--he remembered what you remember. He +said, 'See the man who told me I was broken down?--not I!' After +confirming it with an oath, he turned away from the others. +Unfortunately, he took the direction in which I was standing, and +discovered me. The bare sight of me seemed to throw him instantly +into a state of frenzy. He--it is impossible for me to repeat the +language that he used: it is bad enough to have heard it. I +believe, Sir Patrick, but for the two men, who ran up and laid +hold of him, that Hester Dethridge would have seen what she +expected to see. The change in him was so frightful--even to me, +well as I thought I knew him in his fits of passion--I tremble +when I think of it. One of the men who had restrained him was +almost as brutal, in his way. He declared, in the foulest +language, that if Delamayn had a fit, he would lose the race, and +that I should be answerable for it. But for Mr. Speedwell, I +don't know what I should have done. He came forward directly. +'This is no place either for you, or for me,' he said--and gave +me his arm, and led me back to the house. Hester Dethridge met us +in the passage, and lifted her hand to stop me. Mr. Speedwell +asked her what she wanted. She looked at me, and then looked +toward the garden, and made the motion of striking a blow with +her clenched fist. For the first time in my experience of her--I +hope it was my fancy--I thought I saw her smile. Mr. Speedwell +took me out. 'They are well matched in that house,' he said. 'The +woman is as complete a savage as the men.' The carriage which I +had seen waiting at the door was his. He called it up, and +politely offered me a place in it. I said I would only trespass +on his kindness as far as to the railway station. While we were +talking, Hester Dethridge followed us to the door. She made the +same motion again with her clenched hand, and looked back toward +the garden--and then looked at me, and nodded her head, as much +as to say, 'He will do it yet!' No words can describe how glad I +was to see the last of her. I hope and trust I shall never set +eyes on her again!" + +"Did you hear how Mr. Speedwell came to be at the house? Had he +gone of his own accord? or had he been sent for?" + +"He had been sent for. I ventured to speak to him about the +persons whom I had seen in the garden. Mr. Speedwell explained +everything which I was not able of myself to understand, in the +kindest manner. One of the two strange men in the garden was the +trainer; the other was a doctor, whom the trainer was usually in +the habit of consulting. It seems that the real reason for their +bringing Geof frey Delamayn away from Scotland when they did, was +that the trainer was uneasy, and wanted to be near London for +medical advice. The doctor, on being consulted, owned that he was +at a loss to understand the symptoms which he was asked to treat. +He had himself fetched the great surgeon to Fulham, that morning. +Mr. Speedwell abstained from mentioning that he had foreseen what +would happen, at Windygates. All he said was, 'I had met Mr. +Delamayn in society, and I felt interest enough in the case to +pay him a visit--with what result, you have seen yourself.' " + +"Did he tell you any thing about Delamayn's health?" + +"He said that he had questioned the doctor on the way to Fulham, +and that some of the patient's symptoms indicated serious +mischief. What the symptoms were I did not hear. Mr. Speedwell +only spoke of changes for the worse in him which a woman would be +likely to understand. At one time, he would be so dull and +heedless that nothing could rouse him. At another, he flew into +the most terrible passions without any apparent cause. The +trainer had found it almost impossible (in Scotland) to keep him +to the right diet; and the doctor had only sanctioned taking the +house at Fulham, after being first satisfied, not only of the +convenience of the garden, but also that Hester Dethridge could +be thoroughly trusted as a cook. With her help, they had placed +him on an entirely new diet. But they had found an unexpected +difficulty even in doing that. When the trainer took him to the +new lodgings, it turned out that he had seen Hester Dethridge at +Windygates, and had taken the strongest prejudice against her. On +seeing her again at Fulham, he appeared to be absolutely +terrified." + +"Terrified? Why?" + +"Nobody knows why. The trainer and the doctor together could only +prevent his leaving the house, by threatening to throw up the +responsibility of preparing him for the race, unless he instantly +controlled himself, and behaved like a man instead of a child. +Since that time, he has become reconciled, little by little, to +his new abode--partly through Hester Dethridge's caution in +keeping herself always out of his way; and partly through his own +appreciation of the change in his diet, which Hester's skill in +cookery has enabled the doctor to make. Mr. Speedwell mentioned +some things which I have forgotten. I can only repeat, Sir +Patrick, the result at which he has arrived in his own mind. +Coming from a man of his authority, the opinion seems to me to be +startling in the last degree. If Geoffrey Delamayn runs in the +race on Thursday next, he will do it at the risk of his life." + +"At the risk of dying on the ground?" + +"Yes." + +Sir Patrick's face became thoughtful. He waited a little before +he spoke again. + +"We have not wasted our time," he said, "in dwelling on what +happened during your visit to Fulham. The possibility of this +man's death suggests to my mind serious matter for consideration. +It is very desirable, in the interests of my niece and her +husband, that I should be able to foresee, if I can, how a fatal +result of the race might affect the inquiry which is to be held +on Saturday next. I believe you may be able to help me in this." + +"You have only to tell me how, Sir Patrick." + +"I may count on your being present on Saturday?" + +"Certainly." + +"You thoroughly understand that, in meeting Blanche, you will +meet a person estranged from you, for the present--a friend and +sister who has ceased (under Lady Lundie's influence mainly) to +feel as a friend and sister toward you now?" + +"I was not quite unprepared, Sir Patrick, to hear that Blanche +had misjudged me. When I wrote my letter to Mr. Brinkworth, I +warned him as delicately as I could, that his wife's jealousy +might be very easily roused. You may rely on my self-restraint, +no matter how hardly it may be tried. Nothing that Blanche can +say or do will alter my grateful remembrance of the past. While I +live, I love her. Let that assurance quiet any little anxiety +that you may have felt as to my conduct--and tell me how I can +serve those interests which I have at heart as well as you." + +"You can serve them, Miss Silvester, in this way. You can make me +acquainted with the position in which you stood toward Delamayn +at the time when you went to the Craig Fernie inn." + +"Put any questions to me that you think right, Sir Patrick." + +"You mean that?" + +"I mean it." + +"I will begin by recalling something which you have already told +me. Delamayn has promised you marriage--" + +"Over and over again!" + +"In words?" + +"Yes." + +"In writing?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you see what I am coming to?" + +"Hardly yet." + +"You referred, when we first met in this room, to a letter which +you recovered from Bishopriggs, at Perth. I have ascertained from +Arnold Brinkworth that the sheet of note-paper stolen from you +contained two letters. One was written by you to Delamayn--the +other was written by Delamayn to you. The substance of this last +Arnold remembered. Your letter he had not read. It is of the +utmost importance, Miss Silvester, to let me see that +correspondence before we part to-day." + +Anne made no answer. She sat with her clasped hands on her lap. +Her eyes looked uneasily away from Sir Patrick's face, for the +first time. + +"Will it not be enough," she asked, after an interval, "if I tell +you the substance of my letter, without showing it?" + +"It will _not_ be enough," returned Sir Patrick, in the plainest +manner. "I hinted--if you remember--at the propriety of my seeing +the letter, when you first mentioned it, and I observed that you +purposely abstained from understanding me, I am grieved to put +you, on this occasion, to a painful test. But if you _are_ to +help me at this serious crisis, I have shown you the way." + +Anne rose from her chair, and answered by putting the letter into +Sir Patrick's hands. "Remember what he has done, since I wrote +that," she said. "And try to excuse me, if I own that I am +ashamed to show it to you now." + +With those words she walked aside to the window. She stood there, +with her hand pressed on her breast, looking out absently on the +murky London view of house roof and chimney, while Sir Patrick +opened the letter. + +It is necessary to the right appreciation of events, that other +eyes besides Sir Patrick's should follow the brief course of the +correspondence in this place. + +1. _From Anne Silvester to Geoffrey Delamayn._ + +WINDYGATES HOUSE. _August_ 19, 1868. + +"GEOFFREY DELAMAYN,--I have waited in the hope that you would +ride over from your brother's place, and see me--and I have +waited in vain. Your conduct to me is cruelty itself; I will bear +it no longer. Consider! in your own interests, consider--before +you drive the miserable woman who has trusted you to despair. You +have promised me marriage by all that is sacred. I claim your +promise. I insist on nothing less than to be what you vowed I +should be--what I have waited all this weary time to be--what I +_am,_ in the sight of Heaven, your wedded wife. Lady Lundie gives +a lawn-party here on the 14th. I know you have been asked. I +expect you to accept her invitation. If I don't see you, I won't +answer for what may happen. My mind is made up to endure this +suspense no longer. Oh, Geoffrey, remember the past! Be +faithful--be just--to your loving wife, + +"ANNE SILVESTER." + +2. _From Geoffrey Delamayn to Anne Silvester._ + +"DEAR ANNE,--Just called to London to my father. They have +telegraphed him in a bad way. Stop where you are, and I will +write you. Trust the bearer. Upon my soul, I'll keep my promise. +Your loving husband that is to be, + +"GEOFFREY DELAMAYN. + +WINDYGATES HOUSE _Augt._ 14, 4 P. M. + +"In a mortal hurry. The train starts 4.30." + + + +Sir Patrick read the correspondence with breathless attention to +the end. At the last lines of the last letter he did what he had +not done for twenty years past--he sprang to his feet at a bound, +and he crossed a room without the help of his ivory cane. + +Anne started; and turning round from the window, looked at him in +silent surprise. He was under the influence of strong emotion; +his face, his voice, his manner, all showed it. + +"How long had you been in Scotland, when you wrote this?" He +pointed to Anne's letter as he asked the question, put ting it so +eagerly that he stammered over the first words. "More than three +weeks?" he added, with his bright black eyes fixed in absorbing +interest on her face. + +"Yes." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"I am certain of it." + +"You can refer to persons who have seen you?" + +"Easily." + +He turned the sheet of note-paper, and pointed to Geoffrey's +penciled letter on the fourth page. + +"How long had _he_ been in Scotland, when _he_ wrote this? More +than three weeks, too?" + +Anne considered for a moment. + +"For God's sake, be careful!" said Sir Patrick. "You don't know +what depends on this, If your memory is not clear about it, say +so." + +"My memory was confused for a moment. It is clear again now. He +had been at his brother's in Perthshire three weeks before he +wrote that. And before he went to Swanhaven, he spent three or +four days in the valley of the Esk." + +"Are you sure again?" + +"Quite sure!" + +"Do you know of any one who saw him in the valley of the Esk?" + +"I know of a person who took a note to him, from me." + +"A person easily found?" + +"Quite easily." + +Sir Patrick laid aside the letter, and seized in ungovernable +agitation on both her hands. + +"Listen to me," he said. "The whole conspiracy against Arnold +Brinkworth and you falls to the ground before that +correspondence. When you and he met at the inn--" + +He paused, and looked at her. Her hands were beginning to tremble +in his. + +"When you and Arnold Brinkworth met at the inn," he resumed, "the +law of Scotland had made you a married woman. On the day, and at +the hour, when he wrote those lines at the back of your letter to +him, you were _Geoffrey Delamayn's wedded wife!_" + +He stopped, and looked at her again. + +Without a word in reply, without the slightest movement in her +from head to foot, she looked back at him. The blank stillness of +horror was in her face. The deadly cold of horror was in her +hands. + +In silence, on his side, Sir Patrick drew back a step, with a +faint reflection of _her_ dismay in his face. Married--to the +villain who had not hesitated to calumniate the woman whom he had +ruined, and then to cast her helpless on the world. Married--to +the traitor who had not shrunk from betraying Arnold's trust in +him, and desolating Arnold's home. Married--to the ruffian who +would have struck her that morning, if the hands of his own +friends had not held him back. And Sir Patrick had never thought +of it! Absorbed in the one idea of Blanche's future, he had never +thought of it, till that horror-stricken face looked at him, and +said, Think of _my_ future, too! + +He came back to her. He took her cold hand once more in his. + +"Forgive me," he said, "for thinking first of Blanche." + +Blanche's name seemed to rouse her. The life came back to her +face; the tender brightness began to shine again in her eyes. He +saw that he might venture to speak more plainly still: he went +on. + +"I see the dreadful sacrifice as _you_ see it. I ask myself, have +I any right, has Blanche any right--" + +She stopped him by a faint pressure of his hand. + +"Yes," she said, softly, "if Blanche's happiness depends on it." + + +THIRTEENTH SCENE.--FULHAM. + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIFTH. + +THE FOOT-RACE. + +A SOLITARY foreigner, drifting about London, drifted toward +Fulham on the day of the Foot-Race. + +Little by little, he found himself involved in the current of a +throng of impetuous English people, all flowing together toward +one given point, and all decorated alike with colors of two +prevailing hues--pink and yellow. He drifted along with the +stream of passengers on the pavement (accompanied by a stream of +carriages in the road) until they stopped with one accord at a +gate--and paid admission money to a man in office--and poured +into a great open space of ground which looked like an +uncultivated garden. + +Arrived here, the foreign visitor opened his eyes in wonder at +the scene revealed to view. He observed thousands of people +assembled, composed almost exclusively of the middle and upper +classes of society. They were congregated round a vast inclosure; +they were elevated on amphitheatrical wooden stands, and they +were perched on the roofs of horseless carriages, drawn up in +rows. From this congregation there rose such a roar of eager +voices as he had never heard yet from any assembled multitude in +these islands. Predominating among the cries, he detected one +everlasting question. It began with, "Who backs--?" and it ended +in the alternate pronouncing of two British names unintelligible +to foreign ears. Seeing these extraordinary sights, and hearing +these stirring sounds, he applied to a policeman on duty; and +said, in his best producible English, "If you please, Sir, what +is this?" + +The policeman answered, " North against South--Sports." + +The foreigner was informed, but not satisfied. He pointed all +round the assembly with a circular sweep of his hand; and said, +"Why?" + +The policeman declined to waste words on a man who could ask such +a question as that. He lifted a large purple forefinger, with a +broad white nail at the end of it, and pointed gravely to a +printed Bill, posted on the wall behind him. The drifting +foreigner drifted to the Bill. + +After reading it carefully, from top to bottom, he consulted a +polite private individual near at hand, who proved to be far more +communicative than the policeman. The result on his mind, as a +person not thoroughly awakened to the enormous national +importance of Athletic Sports, was much as follows: + +The color of North is pink. The color of South is yellow. North +produces fourteen pink men, and South produces thirteen yellow +men. The meeting of pink and yellow is a solemnity. The solemnity +takes its rise in an indomitable national passion for hardening +the arms and legs, by throwing hammers and cricket-balls with the +first, and running and jumping with the second. The object in +view is to do this in public rivalry. The ends arrived at are +(physically) an excessive development of the muscles, purchased +at the expense of an excessive strain on the heart and the +lungs--(morally), glory; conferred at the moment by the public +applause; confirmed the next day by a report in the newspapers. +Any person who presumes to see any physical evil involved in +these exercises to the men who practice them, or any moral +obstruction in the exhibition itself to those civilizing +influences on which the true greatness of all nations depends, is +a person without a biceps, who is simply incomprehensible. +Muscular England develops itself, and takes no notice of him. + +The foreigner mixed with the assembly, and looked more closely at +the social spectacle around him. + +He had met with these people before. He had seen them (for +instance) at the theatre, and observed their manners and customs +with considerable curiosity and surprise. When the curtain was +down, they were so little interested in what they had come to +see, that they had hardly spirit enough to speak to each other +between the acts. When the curtain was up, if the play made any +appeal to their sympathy with any of the higher and nobler +emotions of humanity, they received it as something wearisome, or +sneered at it as something absurd. The public feeling of the +countrymen of Shakespeare, so far as they represented it, +recognized but two duties in the dramatist--the duty of making +them laugh, and the duty of getting it over soon. The two great +merits of a stage proprietor, in England (judging by the rare +applause of his cultivated customers), consisted in spending +plenty of money on his scenery, and in hiring plenty of +brazen-faced women to exhibit their bosoms and their legs. Not at +theatres only; but among other gatherings, in other places, the +foreigner had noticed the same stolid languor where any effort +was exacted from genteel English brains, and the same stupid +contempt where any appeal was made to genteel English hearts. +Preserve us from enjoying any thing but jokes and scandal! +Preserve us from respecting any thing but rank and money! There +were the social aspirations of these insular ladies and +gentlemen, as expressed under other circumstances, and as +betrayed amidst other scenes. Here, all was changed. Here was the +strong feeling, the breathless interest, the hearty enthus iasm, +not visible elsewhere. Here were the superb gentlemen who were +too weary to speak, when an Art was addressing them, shouting +themselves hoarse with burst on burst of genuine applause. Here +were the fine ladies who yawned behind their fans, at the bare +idea of being called on to think or to feel, waving their +handkerchiefs in honest delight, and actually flushing with +excitement through their powder and their paint. And all for +what? All for running and jumping--all for throwing hammers and +balls. + +The foreigner looked at it, and tried, as a citizen of a +civilized country, to understand it. He was still trying--when +there occurred a pause in the performances. + +Certain hurdles, which had served to exhibit the present +satisfactory state of civilization (in jumping) among the upper +classes, were removed. The privileged persons who had duties to +perform within the inclosure, looked all round it; and +disappeared one after another. A great hush of expectation +pervaded the whole assembly. Something of no common interest and +importance was evidently about to take place. On a sudden, the +silence was broken by a roar of cheering from the mob in the road +outside the grounds. People looked at each other excitedly, and +said, "One of them has come." The silence prevailed again--and +was a second time broken by another roar of applause. People +nodded to each other with an air of relief and said, "Both of +them have come." Then the great hush fell on the crowd once more, +and all eyes looked toward one particular point of the ground, +occupied by a little wooden pavilion, with the blinds down over +the open windows, and the door closed. + +The foreigner was deeply impressed by the silent expectation of +the great throng about him. He felt his own sympathies stirred, +without knowing why. He believed himself to be on the point of +understanding the English people. + +Some ceremony of grave importance was evidently in preparation. +Was a great orator going to address the assembly? Was a glorious +anniversary to be commemorated? Was a religious service to be +performed? He looked round him to apply for information once +more. Two gentlemen--who contrasted favorably, so far as +refinement of manner was concerned, with most of the spectators +present--were slowly making their way, at that moment, through +the crowd near him. He respectfully asked what national solemnity +was now about to take place. They informed him that a pair of +strong young men were going to run round the inclosure for a +given number of turns, with the object of ascertaining which +could run the fastest of the two. + +The foreigner lifted his hands and eyes to heaven. Oh, +multifarious Providence! who would have suspected that the +infinite diversities of thy creation included such beings as +these! With that aspiration, he turned his back on the +race-course, and left the place. + +On his way out of the grounds he had occasion to use his +handkerchief, and found that it was gone. He felt next for his +purse. His purse was missing too. When he was back again in his +own country, intelligent inquiries were addressed to him on the +subject of England. He had but one reply to give. "The whole +nation is a mystery to me. Of all the English people I only +understand the English thieves!" + + + +In the mean time the two gentlemen, making their way through the +crowd, reached a wicket-gate in the fence which surrounded the +inclosure. + +Presenting a written order to the policeman in charge of the +gate, they were forthwith admitted within the sacred precincts +The closely packed spectators, regarding them with mixed feelings +of envy and curiosity, wondered who they might be. Were they +referees appointed to act at the coming race? or reporters for +the newspapers? or commissioners of police? They were neither the +one nor the other. They were only Mr. Speedwell, the surgeon, and +Sir Patrick Lundie. + +The two gentlemen walked into the centre of the inclosure, and +looked round them. + +The grass on which they were standing was girdled by a broad +smooth path, composed of finely-sifted ashes and sand--and this +again was surrounded by the fence and by the spectators ranked +behind it. Above the lines thus formed rose on one side the +amphitheatres with their tiers of crowded benches, and on the +other the long rows of carriages with the sight-seers inside and +out. The evening sun was shining brightly, the light and shade +lay together in grand masses, the varied colors of objects +blended softly one with the other. It was a splendid and an +inspiriting scene. + +Sir Patrick turned from the rows of eager faces all round him to +his friend the surgeon. + +"Is there one person to be found in this vast crowd," he asked, +"who has come to see the race with the doubt in his mind which +has brought _us_ to see it?" + +Mr. Speedwell shook his head. "Not one of them knows or cares +what the struggle may cost the men who engage in it." + +Sir Patrick looked round him again. "I almost wish I had not come +to see it," he said. "If this wretched man--" + +The surgeon interposed. "Don't dwell needlessly, Sir Patrick, on +the gloomy view," he rejoined. "The opinion I have formed has, +thus far, no positive grounds to rest on. I am guessing rightly, +as I believe, but at the same time I am guessing in the dark. +Appearances _may_ have misled me. There may be reserves of vital +force in Mr. Delamayn's constitution which I don't suspect. I am +here to learn a lesson--not to see a prediction fulfilled. I know +his health is broken, and I believe he is going to run this race +at his own proper peril. Don't feel too sure beforehand of the +event. The event may prove me to be wrong." + +For the moment Sir Patrick dropped the subject. He was not in his +usual spirits. + +Since his interview with Anne had satisfied him that she was +Geoffrey's lawful wife, the conviction had inevitably forced +itself on his mind that the one possible chance for her in the +future, was the chance of Geoffrey's death. Horrible as it was to +him, he had been possessed by that one idea--go where he might, +do what he might, struggle as he might to force his thoughts in +other directions. He looked round the broad ashen path on which +the race was to be run, conscious that he had a secret interest +in it which it was unutterably repugnant to him to feel. He tried +to resume the conversation with his friend, and to lead it to +other topics. The effort was useless. In despite of himself, he +returned to the one fatal subject of the struggle that was now +close at hand. + +"How many times must they go round this inclosure," he inquired, +"before the race is ended?" + +Mr. Speedwell turned toward a gentleman who was approaching them +at the moment. "Here is somebody coming who can tell us," he +said. + +"You know him?" + +"He is one of my patients." + +"Who is he?" + +"After the two runners he is the most important personage on the +ground. He is the final authority--the umpire of the race." + +The person thus described was a middle-aged man, with a +prematurely wrinkled face, with prematurely white hair and with +something of a military look about him--brief in speech, and +quick in manner. + +"The path measures four hundred and forty yards round," he said, +when the surgeon had repeated Sir Patrick's question to him. "In +plainer words, and not to put you to your arithmetic once round +it is a quarter of a mile. Each round is called a 'Lap.' The men +must run sixteen Laps to finish the race. Not to put you to your +arithmetic again, they must run four miles--the longest race of +this kind which it is customary to attempt at Sports like these." + +"Professional pedestrians exceed that limit, do they not?" + +"Considerably--on certain occasions." + +"Are they a long-lived race?" + +"Far from it. They are exceptions when they live to be old men." + +Mr. Speedwell looked at Sir Patrick. Sir Patrick put a question +to the umpire. + +"You have just told us," he said, "that the two young men who +appear to-day are going to run the longest distance yet attempted +in their experience. Is it generally thought, by persons who +understand such things, that they are both fit to bear the +exertion demanded of them?" + +"You can judge for yourself, Sir. Here is one of them." + +He pointed toward the + pavilion. At the same moment there rose a mighty clapping of +hands from the great throng of spectators. Fleetwood, champion of +the North, decorated in his pink colors, descended the pavilion +steps and walked into the arena. + +Young, lithe, and elegant, with supple strength expressed in +every movement of his limbs, with a bright smile on his resolute +young face, the man of the north won the women's hearts at +starting. The murmur of eager talk rose among them on all sides. +The men were quieter--especially the men who understood the +subject. It was a serious question with these experts whether +Fleetwood was not "a little too fine." Superbly trained, it was +admitted--but, possibly, a little over-trained for a four-mile +race. + +The northern hero was followed into the inclosure by his friends +and backers, and by his trainer. This last carried a tin can in +his hand. "Cold water," the umpire explained. "If he gets +exhausted, his trainer will pick him up with a dash of it as he +goes by." + +A new burst of hand-clapping rattled all round the arena. +Delamayn, champion of the South, decorated in his yellow colors, +presented himself to the public view. + +The immense hum of voices rose louder and louder as he walked +into the centre of the great green space. Surprise at the +extraordinary contrast between the two men was the prevalent +emotion of the moment. Geoffrey was more than a head taller than +his antagonist, and broader in full proportion. The women who had +been charmed with the easy gait and confident smile of Fleetwood, +were all more or less painfully impressed by the sullen strength +of the southern man, as he passed before them slowly, with his +head down and his brows knit, deaf to the applause showered on +him, reckless of the eyes that looked at him; speaking to nobody; +concentrated in himself; biding his time. He held the men who +understood the subject breathless with interest. There it was! +the famous "staying power" that was to endure in the last +terrible half-mile of the race, when the nimble and jaunty +Fleetwood was run off his legs. Whispers had been spread abroad +hinting at something which had gone wrong with Delamayn in his +training. And now that all eyes could judge him, his appearance +suggested criticism in some quarters. It was exactly the opposite +of the criticism passed on his antagonist. The doubt as to +Delamayn was whether he had been sufficiently trained. Still the +solid strength of the man, the slow, panther-like smoothness of +his movements--and, above all, his great reputation in the world +of muscle and sport--had their effect. The betting which, with +occasional fluctuations, had held steadily in his favor thus far, +held, now that he was publicly seen, steadily in his favor still. + +"Fleetwood for shorter distances, if you like; but Delamayn for a +four-mile race." + +"Do you think he sees us?" whispered Sir Patrick to the surgeon. + +"He sees nobody." + +"Can you judge of the condition he is in, at this distance?" + +"He has twice the muscular strength of the other man. His trunk +and limbs are magnificent. It is useless to ask me more than that +about his condition. We are too far from him to see his face +plainly." + +The conversation among the audience began to flag again; and the +silent expectation set in among them once more. One by one, the +different persons officially connected with the race gathered +together on the grass. The trainer Perry was among them, with his +can of water in his hand, in anxious whispering conversation with +his principal--giving him the last words of advice before the +start. The trainer's doctor, leaving them together, came up to +pay his respects to his illustrious colleague. + +"How has he got on since I was at Fulham?" asked Mr. Speedwell. + +"First-rate, Sir! It was one of his bad days when you saw him. He +has done wonders in the last eight-and-forty hours." + +"Is he going to win the race?" + +Privately the doctor had done what Perry had done before him--he +had backed Geoffrey's antagonist. Publicly he was true to his +colors. He cast a disparaging look at Fleetwood--and answered +Yes, without the slightest hesitation. + +At that point, the conversation was suspended by a sudden +movement in the inclosure. The runners were on their way to the +starting-place. The moment of the race had come. + + + +Shoulder to shoulder, the two men waited--each with his foot +touching the mark. The firing of a pistol gave the signal for the +start. At the instant when the report sounded they were off. + +Fleetwood at once took the lead, Delamayn following, at from two +to three yards behind him. In that order they ran the first +round. the second, and the third--both reserving their strength; +both watched with breathless interest by every soul in the place. +The trainers, with their cans in their hands, ran backward and +forward over the grass, meeting their men at certain points, and +eying them narrowly, in silence. The official persons stood +together in a group; their eyes following the runners round and +round with the closest attention. The trainer's doctor, still +attached to his illustrious colleague, offered the necessary +explanations to Mr. Speedwell and his friend. + +"Nothing much to see for the first mile, Sir, except the 'style' +of the two men." + +"You mean they are not really exerting themselves yet?" + +"No. Getting their wind, and feeling their legs. Pretty runner, +Fleetwood--if you notice Sir? Gets his legs a trifle better in +front, and hardly lifts his heels quite so high as our man. His +action's the best of the two; I grant that. But just look, as +they come by, which keeps the straightest line. There's where +Delamayn has him! It's a steadier, stronger, truer pace; and +you'll see it tell when they're half-way through." So, for the +first three rounds, the doctor expatiated on the two contrasted +"styles"--in terms mercifully adapted to the comprehension of +persons unacquainted with the language of the running ring. + +At the fourth round--in other words, at the round which completed +the first mile, the first change in the relative position of the +runners occurred. Delamayn suddenly dashed to the front. +Fleetwood smiled as the other passed him. Delamayn held the lead +till they were half way through the fifth round--when Fleetwood, +at a hint from his trainer, forced the pace. He lightly passed +Delamayn in an instant; and led again to the completion of the +sixth round. + +At the opening of the seventh, Delamayn forced the pace on his +side. For a few moments, they ran exactly abreast. Then Delamayn +drew away inch by inch; and recovered the lead. The first burst +of applause (led by the south) rang out, as the big man beat +Fleetwood at his own tactics, and headed him at the critical +moment when the race was nearly half run. + +"It begins to look as if Delamayn _was_ going to win!" said Sir +Patrick. + +The trainer's doctor forgot himself. Infected by the rising +excitement of every body about him, he let out the truth. + +"Wait a bit!" he said. "Fleetwood has got directions to let him +pass--Fleetwood is waiting to see what he can do." + +"Cunning, you see, Sir Patrick, is one of the elements in a manly +sport," said Mr. Speedwell, quietly. + +At the end of the seventh round, Fleetwood proved the doctor to +be right. He shot past Delamayn like an arrow from a bow. At the +end of the eight round, he was leading by two yards. Half the +race had then been run. Time, ten minutes and thirty-three +seconds. + +Toward the end of the ninth round, the pace slackened a little; +and Delamayn was in front again. He kept ahead, until the opening +of the eleventh round. At that point, Fleetwood flung up one hand +in the air with a gesture of triumph; and bounded past Delamayn +with a shout of "Hooray for the North!" The shout was echoed by +the spectators. In proportion as the exertion began to tell upon +the men, so the excitement steadily rose among the people looking +at them. + +At the twelfth round, Fleetwood was leading by six yards. Cries +of triumph rose among the adherents of the north, met by +counter-cries of defiance from the south. At the next turn +Delamayn resolutely lessened the distance between his antagonist +and himself. At the opening of the fourteenth round, they were +coming sid e by side. A few yards more, and Delamayn was in front +again, amidst a roar of applause from the whole public voice. Yet +a few yards further, and Fleetwood neared him, passed him, +dropped behind again, led again, and was passed again at the end +of the round. The excitement rose to its highest pitch, as the +runners--gasping for breath; with dark flushed faces, and heaving +breasts--alternately passed and repassed each other. Oaths were +heard now as well as cheers. Women turned pale and men set their +teeth, as the last round but one began. + +At the opening of it, Delamayn was still in advance. Before six +yards more had been covered, Fleetwood betrayed the purpose of +his running in the previous round, and electrified the whole +assembly, by dashing past his antagonist--for the first time in +the race at the top of his speed. Every body present could see, +now, that Delamayn had been allowed to lead on sufferance--had +been dextrously drawn on to put out his whole power--and had +then, and not till then, been seriously deprived of the lead. He +made another effort, with a desperate resolution that roused the +public enthusiasm to frenzy. While the voices were roaring; while +the hats and handkerchiefs were waving round the course; while +the actual event of the race was, for one supreme moment, still +in doubt--Mr. Speedwell caught Sir Patrick by the arm. + +"Prepare yourself!" he whispered. "It's all over." + +As the words passed his lips, Delamayn swerved on the path. His +trainer dashed water over him. He rallied, and ran another step +or two--swerved again--staggered--lifted his arm to his mouth +with a hoarse cry of rage--fastened his own teeth in his flesh +like a wild beast--and fell senseless on the course. + +A Babel of sounds arose. The cries of alarm in some places, +mingling with the shouts of triumph from the backers of Fleetwood +in others--as their man ran lightly on to win the now uncontested +race. Not the inclosure only, but the course itself was invaded +by the crowd. In the midst of the tumult the fallen man was drawn +on to the grass--with Mr. Speedwell and the trainer's doctor in +attendance on him. At the terrible moment when the surgeon laid +his hand on the heart, Fleetwood passed the spot--a passage being +forced for him through the people by his friends and the +police--running the sixteenth and last round of the race. + +Had the beaten man fainted under it, or had he died under it? +Every body waited, with their eyes riveted on the surgeon's hand. + +The surgeon looked up from him, and called for water to throw +over his face, for brandy to put into his mouth. He was coming to +life again--he had survived the race. The last shout of applause +which hailed Fleetwood's victory rang out as they lifted him from +the ground to carry him to the pavilion. Sir Patrick (admitted at +Mr. Speedwell's request) was the one stranger allowed to pass the +door. At the moment when he was ascending the steps, some one +touched his arm. It was Captain Newenden. + +"Do the doctors answer for his life?" asked the captain. "I can't +get my niece to leave the ground till she is satisfied of that." + +Mr. Speedwell heard the question and replied to it briefly from +the top of the pavilion steps. + +"For the present--yes," he said. + +The captain thanked him, and disappeared. + +They entered the pavilion. The necessary restorative measures +were taken under Mr. Speedwell's directions. There the conquered +athlete lay: outwardly an inert mass of strength, formidable to +look at, even in its fall; inwardly, a weaker creature, in all +that constitutes vital force, than the fly that buzzed on the +window-pane. By slow degrees the fluttering life came back. The +sun was setting; and the evening light was beginning to fail. Mr. +Speedwell beckoned to Perry to follow him into an unoccupied +corner of the room. + +"In half an hour or less he will be well enough to be taken home. +Where are his friends? He has a brother--hasn't he?" + +"His brother's in Scotland, Sir." + +"His father?" + +Perry scratched his head. "From all I hear, Sir, he and his +father don't agree." + +Mr. Speedwell applied to Sir Patrick. + +"Do you know any thing of his family affairs?" + +"Very little. I believe what the man has told you to be the +truth." + +"Is his mother living?" + +"Yes." + +"I will write to her myself. In the mean time, somebody must take +him home. He has plenty of friends here. Where are they?" + +He looked out of the window as he spoke. A throng of people had +gathered round the pavilion, waiting to hear the latest news. Mr. +Speedwell directed Perry to go out and search among them for any +friends of his employer whom he might know by sight. Perry +hesitated, and scratched his head for the second time. + +"What are you waiting for?" asked the surgeon, sharply. "You know +his friends by sight, don't you?" + +"I don't think I shall find them outside," said Perry. + +"Why not?" + +"They backed him heavily, Sir--and they have all lost." + +Deaf to this unanswerable reason for the absence of friends, Mr. +Speedwell insisted on sending Perry out to search among the +persons who composed the crowd. The trainer returned with his +report. "You were right, Sir. There are some of his friends +outside. They want to see him." + +"Let two or three of them in." + +Three came in. They stared at him. They uttered brief expressions +of pity in slang. They said to Mr. Speedwell, "We wanted to see +him. What is it--eh?" + +"It's a break-down in his health." + +"Bad training?" + +"Athletic Sports." + +"Oh! Thank you. Good-evening." + +Mr. Speedwell's answer drove them out like a flock of sheep +before a dog. There was not even time to put the question to them +as to who was to take him home. + +"I'll look after him, Sir," said Perry. "You can trust me." + +"I'll go too," added the trainer's doctor; "and see him littered +down for the night." + +(The only two men who had "hedged" their bets, by privately +backing his opponent, were also the only two men who volunteered +to take him home!) + +They went back to the sofa on which he was lying. His bloodshot +eyes were rolling heavily and vacantly about him, on the search +for something. They rested on the doctor--and looked away again. +They turned to Mr. Speedwell--and stopped, riveted on his face. +The surgeon bent over him, and said, "What is it?" + +He answered with a thick accent and laboring breath--uttering a +word at a time: "Shall--I--die?" + +"I hope not." + +"Sure?" + +"No." + +He looked round him again. This time his eyes rested on the +trainer. Perry came forward. + +"What can I do for you, Sir?" + +The reply came slowly as before. "My--coat--pocket." + +"This one, Sir?" + +"No." + +"This?" + +"Yes. Book." + +The trainer felt in the pocket, and produced a betting-book. + +"What's to be done with this. Sir?" + +"Read." + +The trainer held the book before him; open at the last two pages +on which entries had been made. He rolled his head impatiently +from side to side of the sofa pillow. It was plain that he was +not yet sufficiently recovered to be able to read what he had +written. + +"Shall I read for you, Sir?" + +"Yes." + +The trainer read three entries, one after another, without +result; they had all been honestly settled. At the fourth the +prostrate man said, "Stop!" This was the first of the entries +which still depended on a future event. It recorded the wager +laid at Windygates, when Geoffrey had backed himself (in defiance +of the surgeon's opinion) to row in the University boat-race next +spring--and had forced Arnold Brinkworth to bet against him. + +"Well, Sir? What's to be done about this?" + +He collected his strength for the effort; and answered by a word +at a time. + +"Write--brother--Julius. Pay--Arnold--wins." + +His lifted hand, solemnly emphasizing what he said, dropped at +his side. He closed his eyes; and fell into a heavy stertorous +sleep. Give him his due. Scoundrel as he was, give him his due. +The awful moment, when his life was trembling in the balance, +found him true to the last living faith left among the men of his +tribe and time--the faith of the betting-book. + + + +Sir Patrick and Mr. Speedwell quitted the race-ground together; +Geoffrey having been previously removed to his lodgings hard by. +They met Arnold Brinkworth at the gate. He had, by his own +desire, kept out of view + among the crowd; and he decided on walking back by himself. The +separation from Blanche had changed him in all his habits. He +asked but two favors during the interval which was to elapse +before he saw his wife again--to be allowed to bear it in his own +way, and to be left alone. + +Relieved of the oppression which had kept him silent while the +race was in progress, Sir Patrick put a question to the surgeon +as they drove home, which had been in his mind from the moment +when Geoffrey had lost the day. + +"I hardly understand the anxiety you showed about Delamayn," he +said, "when you found that he had only fainted under the fatigue. +Was it something more than a common fainting fit?" + +"It is useless to conceal it now," replied Mr. Speedwell. "He has +had a narrow escape from a paralytic stroke." + +"Was that what you dreaded when you spoke to him at Windygates?" + +"That was what I saw in his face when I gave him the warning. I +was right, so far. I was wrong in my estimate of the reserve of +vital power left in him. When he dropped on the race-course, I +firmly believed we should find him a dead man." + +"Is it hereditary paralysis? His father's last illness was of +that sort." + +Mr. Speedwell smiled. "Hereditary paralysis?" he repeated. "Why +the man is (naturally) a phenomenon of health and strength--in +the prime of his life. Hereditary paralysis might have found him +out thirty years hence. His rowing and his running, for the last +four years, are alone answerable for what has happened to-day." + +Sir Patrick ventured on a suggestion. + +"Surely," he said, "with your name to compel attention to it, you +ought to make this public--as a warning to others?" + +"It would be quite useless. Delamayn is far from being the first +man who has dropped at foot-racing, under the cruel stress laid +on the vital organs. The public have a happy knack of forgetting +these accidents. They would be quite satisfied when they found +the other man (who happens to have got through it) produced as a +sufficient answer to me." + +Anne Silvester's future was still dwelling on Sir Patrick's mind. +His next inquiry related to the serious subject of Geoffrey's +prospect of recovery in the time to come. + +"He will never recover," said Mr. Speedwell. "Paralysis is +hanging over him. How long he may live it is impossible for me to +say. Much depends on himself. In his condition, any new +imprudence, any violent emotion, may kill him at a moment's +notice." + +"If no accident happens," said Sir Patrick, "will he be +sufficiently himself again to leave his bed and go out?" + +"Certainly." + +"He has an appointment that I know of for Saturday next. Is it +likely that he will be able to keep it?" + +"Quite likely." + +Sir Patrick said no more. Anne's face was before him again at the +memorable moment when he had told her that she was Geoffrey's +wife. + + +FOURTEENTH SCENE.--PORTLAND PLACE. + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-SIXTH. + +A SCOTCH MARRIAGE. + +IT was Saturday, the third of October--the day on which the +assertion of Arnold's marriage to Anne Silvester was to be put to +the proof. + +Toward two o'clock in the afternoon Blanche and her step-mother +entered the drawing-room of Lady Lundie's town house in Portland +Place. + +Since the previous evening the weather had altered for the worse. +The rain, which had set in from an early hour that morning, still +fell. Viewed from the drawing-room windows, the desolation of +Portland Place in the dead season wore its aspect of deepest +gloom. The dreary opposite houses were all shut up; the black mud +was inches deep in the roadway; the soot, floating in tiny black +particles, mixed with the falling rain, and heightened the dirty +obscurity of the rising mist. Foot-passengers and vehicles, +succeeding each other at rare intervals, left great gaps of +silence absolutely uninterrupted by sound. Even the grinders of +organs were mute; and the wandering dogs of the street were too +wet to bark. Looking back from the view out of Lady Lundie's +state windows to the view in Lady Lundie's state room, the +melancholy that reigned without was more than matched by the +melancholy that reigned within. The house had been shut up for +the season: it had not been considered necessary, during its +mistress's brief visit, to disturb the existing state of things. +Coverings of dim brown hue shrouded the furniture. The +chandeliers hung invisible in enormous bags. The silent clocks +hibernated under extinguishers dropped over them two months +since. The tables, drawn up in corners--loaded with ornaments at +other times--had nothing but pen, ink, and paper (suggestive of +the coming proceedings) placed on them now. The smell of the +house was musty; the voice of the house was still. One melancholy +maid haunted the bedrooms up stairs, like a ghost. One melancholy +man, appointed to admit the visitors, sat solitary in the lower +regions--the last of the flunkies, mouldering in an extinct +servants' hall. Not a word passed, in the drawing-room, between +Lady Lundie and Blanche. Each waited the appearance of the +persons concerned in the coming inquiry, absorbed in her own +thoughts. Their situation at the moment was a solemn burlesque of +the situation of two ladies who are giving an evening party, and +who are waiting to receive their guests. Did neither of them see +this? Or, seeing it, did they shrink from acknowledging it? In +similar positions, who does not shrink? The occasions are many on +which we have excellent reason to laugh when the tears are in our +eyes; but only children are bold enough to follow the impulse. So +strangely, in human existence, does the mockery of what is +serious mingle with the serious reality itself, that nothing but +our own self-respect preserves our gravity at some of the most +important emergencies in our lives. The two ladies waited the +coming ordeal together gravely, as became the occasion. The +silent maid flitted noiseless up stairs. The silent man waited +motionless in the lower regions. Outside, the street was a +desert. Inside, the house was a tomb. + +The church clock struck the hour. Two. + +At the same moment the first of the persons concerned in the +investigation arrived. + +Lady Lundie waited composedly for the opening of the drawing-room +door. Blanche started, and trembled. Was it Arnold? Was it Anne? + +The door opened--and Blanche drew a breath of relief. The first +arrival was only Lady Lundie's solicitor--invited to attend the +proceedings on her ladyship's behalf. He was one of that large +class of purely mechanical and perfectly mediocre persons +connected with the practice of the law who will probably, in a +more advanced state of science, be superseded by machinery. He +made himself useful in altering the arrangement of the tables and +chairs, so as to keep the contending parties effectually +separated from each other. He also entreated Lady Lundie to bear +in mind that he knew nothing of Scotch law, and that he was there +in the capacity of a friend only. This done, he sat down, and +looked out with silent interest at the rain--as if it was an +operation of Nature which he had never had an opportunity of +inspecting before. + +The next knock at the door heralded the arrival of a visitor of a +totally different order. The melancholy man-servant announced +Captain Newenden. + +Possibly, in deference to the occasion, possibly, in defiance of +the weather, the captain had taken another backward step toward +the days of his youth. He was painted and padded, wigged and +dressed, to represent the abstract idea of a male human being of +five-and twenty in robust health. There might have been a little +stiffness in the region of the waist, and a slight want of +firmness in the eyelid and the chin. Otherwise there was the +fiction of five-and twenty, founded in appearance on the fact of +five-and-thirty--with the truth invisible behind it, counting +seventy years! Wearing a flower in his buttonhole, and carrying a +jaunty little cane in his hand--brisk, rosy, smiling, +perfumed--the captain's appearance brightened the dreary room. It +was pleasantly suggestive of a morning visit from an idle young +man. He appeared to be a little surprised to find Blanche present +on the scene of approaching conflict. Lady Lundie thought it due +to herself to explain. "My s tep-daughter is here in direct +defiance of my entreaties and my advice. Persons may present +themselves whom it is, in my opinion, improper she should see. +Revelations will take place which no young woman, in her +position, should hear. She insists on it, Captain Newenden--and I +am obliged to submit." + +The captain shrugged his shoulders, and showed his beautiful +teeth. + +Blanche was far too deeply interested in the coming ordeal to +care to defend herself: she looked as if she had not even heard +what her step-mother had said of her. The solicitor remained +absorbed in the interesting view of the falling rain. Lady Lundie +asked after Mrs. Glenarm. The captain, in reply, described his +niece's anxiety as something--something--something, in short, +only to be indicated by shaking his ambrosial curls and waving +his jaunty cane. Mrs. Delamayn was staying with her until her +uncle returned with the news. And where was Julius? Detained in +Scotland by election business. And Lord and Lady Holchester? Lord +and Lady Holchester knew nothing about it. + +There was another knock at the door. Blanche's pale face turned +paler still. Was it Arnold? Was it Anne? After a longer delay +than usual, the servant announced Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn and Mr. +Moy. + +Geoffrey, slowly entering first, saluted the two ladies in +silence, and noticed no one else. The London solicitor, +withdrawing himself for a moment from the absorbing prospect of +the rain, pointed to the places reserved for the new-comer and +for the legal adviser whom he had brought with him. Geoffrey +seated himself, without so much as a glance round the room. +Leaning his elbows on his knees, he vacantly traced patterns on +the carpet with his clumsy oaken walking-stick. Stolid +indifference expressed itself in his lowering brow and his +loosely-hanging mouth. The loss of the race, and the +circumstances accompanying it, appeared to have made him duller +than usual and heavier than usual--and that was all. + +Captain Newenden, approaching to speak to him, stopped half-way, +hesitated, thought better of it--and addressed himself to Mr. +Moy. + +Geoffrey's legal adviser--a Scotchman of the ruddy, ready, and +convivial type--cordially met the advance. He announced, in reply +to the captain's inquiry, that the witnesses (Mrs. Inchbare and +Bishopriggs) were waiting below until they were wanted, in the +housekeeper's room. Had there been any difficulty in finding +them? Not the least. Mrs. Inchbare was, as a matter of course, at +her hotel. Inquiries being set on foot for Bishopriggs, it +appeared that he and the landlady had come to an understanding, +and that he had returned to his old post of headwaiter at the +inn. The captain and Mr. Moy kept up the conversation between +them, thus begun, with unflagging ease and spirit. Theirs were +the only voices heard in the trying interval that elapsed before +the next knock was heard at the door. + +At last it came. There could be no doubt now as to the persons +who might next be expected to enter the room. Lady Lundie took +her step-daughter firmly by the hand. She was not sure of what +Blanche's first impulse might lead her to do. For the first time +in her life, Blanche left her hand willingly in her step-mother's +grasp. + +The door opened, and they came in. + +Sir Patrick Lundie entered first, with Anne Silvester on his arm. +Arnold Brinkworth followed them. + +Both Sir Patrick and Anne bowed in silence to the persons +assembled. Lady Lundie ceremoniously returned her +brother-in-law's salute--and pointedly abstained from noticing +Anne's presence in the room. Blanche never looked up. Arnold +advanced to her, with his hand held out. Lady Lundie rose, and +motioned him back. "Not _yet,_ Mr. Brinkworth!" she said, in her +most quietly merciless manner. Arnold stood, heedless of her, +looking at his wife. His wife lifted her eyes to his; the tears +rose in them on the instant. Arnold's dark complexion turned ashy +pale under the effort that it cost him to command himself. "I +won't distress you," he said, gently--and turned back again to +the table at which Sir Patrick and Anne were seated together +apart from the rest. Sir Patrick took his hand, and pressed it in +silent approval. + +The one person who took no part, even as spectator, in the events +that followed the appearance of Sir Patrick and his companions in +the room--was Geoffrey. The only change visible in him was a +change in the handling of his walking-stick. Instead of tracing +patterns on the carpet, it beat a tattoo. For the rest, there he +sat with his heavy head on his breast and his brawny arms on his +knees--weary of it by anticipation before it had begun. + +Sir Patrick broke the silence. He addressed himself to his +sister-in-law. + +"Lady Lundie, are all the persons present whom you expected to +see here to-day?" + +The gathered venom in Lady Lundie seized the opportunity of +planting its first sting. + +"All whom I expected are here," she answered. "And more than I +expected," she added, with a look at Anne. + +The look was not returned--was not even seen. From the moment +when she had taken her place by Sir Patrick, Anne's eyes had +rested on Blanche. They never moved--they never for an instant +lost their tender sadness--when the woman who hated her spoke. +All that was beautiful and true in that noble nature seemed to +find its one sufficient encouragement in Blanche. As she looked +once more at the sister of the unforgotten days of old, its +native beauty of expression shone out again in her worn and weary +face. Every man in the room (but Geoffrey) looked at her; and +every man (but Geoffrey) felt for her. + +Sir Patrick addressed a second question to his sister-in-law. + +"Is there any one here to represent the interests of Mr. Geoffrey +Delamayn?" he asked. + +Lady Lundie referred Sir Patrick to Geoffrey himself. Without +looking up, Geoffrey motioned with his big brown hand to Mr. Moy, +sitting by his side. + +Mr. Moy (holding the legal rank in Scotland which corresponds to +the rank held by solicitors in England) rose and bowed to Sir +Patrick, with the courtesy due to a man eminent in his time at +the Scottish Bar. + +"I represent Mr. Delamayn," he said. "I congratulate myself, Sir +Patrick, on having your ability and experience to appeal to in +the conduct of the pending inquiry." + +Sir Patrick returned the compliment as well as the bow. + +"It is I who should learn from you," he answered. "_I_ have had +time, Mr. Moy, to forget what I once knew." + +Lady Lundie looked from one to the other with unconcealed +impatience as these formal courtesies were exchanged between the +lawyers. "Allow me to remind you, gentlemen, of the suspense that +we are suffering at this end of the room," she said. "And permit +me to ask when you propose to begin?" + +Sir Patrick looked invitingly at Mr. Moy. Mr. Moy looked +invitingly at Sir Patrick. More formal courtesies! a polite +contest this time as to which of the two learned gentlemen should +permit the other to speak first! Mr. Moy's modesty proving to be +quite immovable, Sir Patrick ended it by opening the proceedings. + +"I am here," he said, "to act on behalf of my friend, Mr. Arnold +Brinkworth. I beg to present him to you, Mr. Moy as the husband +of my niece--to whom he was lawfully married on the seventh of +September last, at the Church of Saint Margaret, in the parish of +Hawley, Kent. I have a copy of the marriage certificate here--if +you wish to look at it." + +Mr. Moy's modesty declined to look at it. + +"Quite needless, Sir Patrick! I admit that a marriage ceremony +took place on the date named, between the persons named; but I +contend that it was not a valid marriage. I say, on behalf of my +client here present (Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn), that Arnold +Brinkworth was married at a date prior to the seventh of +September last--namely, on the fourteenth of August in this year, +and at a place called Craig Fernie, in Scotland--to a lady named +Anne Silvester, now living, and present among us (as I +understand) at this moment." + +Sir Patrick presented Anne. "This is the lady, Mr. Moy." + +Mr. Moy bowed, and made a suggestion. "To save needless +formalities, Sir Patrick, shall we take the question of identity +as established on both sides?" + +Sir Patrick agreed with his learned friend. Lad y Lundie opened +and shut her fan in undisguised impatience. The London solicitor +was deeply interested. Captain Newenden, taking out his +handkerchief, and using it as a screen, yawned behind it to his +heart's content. Sir Patrick resumed. + +"You assert the prior marriage," he said to his colleague. "It +rests with you to begin." + +Mr. Moy cast a preliminary look round him at the persons +assembled. + +"The object of our meeting here," he said, "is, if I am not +mistaken, of a twofold nature. In the first place, it is thought +desirable, by a person who has a special interest in the issue of +this inquiry" (he glanced at the captain--the captain suddenly +became attentive), "to put my client's assertion, relating to Mr. +Brinkworth's marriage, to the proof. In the second place, we are +all equally desirous--whatever difference of opinion may +otherwise exist--to make this informal inquiry a means, if +possible, of avoiding the painful publicity which would result +from an appeal to a Court of Law." + +At those words the gathered venom in Lady Lundie planted its +second sting--under cover of a protest addressed to Mr. Moy. + +"I beg to inform you, Sir, on behalf of my step-daughter," she +said, "that we have nothing to dread from the widest publicity. +We consent to be present at, what you call, 'this informal +inquiry,' reserving our right to carry the matter beyond the four +walls of this room. I am not referring now to Mr. Brinkworth's +chance of clearing himself from an odious suspicion which rests +upon him, and upon another Person present. That is an +after-matter. The object immediately before us--so far as a woman +can pretend to understand it--is to establish my step-daughter's +right to call Mr. Brinkworth to account in the character of his +wife. If the result, so far, fails to satisfy us in that +particular, we shall not hesitate to appeal to a Court of Law." +She leaned back in her chair, and opened her fan, and looked +round her with the air of a woman who called society to witness +that she had done her duty. + +An expression of pain crossed Blanche's face while her +step-mother was speaking. Lady Lundie took her hand for the +second time. Blanche resolutely and pointedly withdrew it--Sir +Patrick noticing the action with special interest. Before Mr. Moy +could say a word in answer, Arnold centred the general attention +on himself by suddenly interfering in the proceedings. Blanche +looked at him. A bright flash of color appeared on her face--and +left it again. Sir Patrick noted the change of color--and +observed her more attentively than ever. Arnold's letter to his +wife, with time to help it, had plainly shaken her ladyship's +influence over Blanche. + +"After what Lady Lundie has said, in my wife's presence," Arnold +burst out, in his straightforward, boyish way, "I think I ought +to be allowed to say a word on my side. I only want to explain +how it was I came to go to Craig Fernie at all--and I challenge +Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn to deny it, if he can." + +His voice rose at the last words, and his eyes brightened with +indignation as he looked at Geoffrey. + +Mr. Moy appealed to his learned friend. + +"With submission, Sir Patrick, to your better judgment," he said, +"this young gentleman's proposal seems to be a little out of +place at the present stage of the proceedings." + +"Pardon me," answered Sir Patrick. "You have yourself described +the proceedings as representing an informal inquiry. An informal +proposal--with submission to _your_ better judgment, Mr. Moy--is +hardly out of place, under those circumstances, is it?" + +Mr. Moy's inexhaustible modesty gave way, without a struggle. The +answer which he received had the effect of puzzling him at the +outset of the investigation. A man of Sir Patrick's experience +must have known that Arnold's mere assertion of his own innocence +could be productive of nothing but useless delay in the +proceedings. And yet he sanctioned that delay. Was he privately +on the watch for any accidental circumstance which might help him +to better a case that he knew to be a bad one? + +Permitted to speak, Arnold spoke. The unmistakable accent of +truth was in every word that he uttered. He gave a fairly +coherent account of events, from the time when Geoffrey had +claimed his assistance at the lawn-party to the time when he +found himself at the door of the inn at Craig Fernie. There Sir +Patrick interfered, and closed his lips. He asked leave to appeal +to Geoffrey to confirm him. Sir Patrick amazed Mr. Moy by +sanctioning this irregularity also. Arnold sternly addressed +himself to Geoffrey. + +"Do you deny that what I have said is true?" he asked. + +Mr. Moy did his duty by his client. "You are not bound to +answer," he said, "unless you wish it yourself." + +Geoffrey slowly lifted his heavy head, and confronted the man +whom he had betrayed. + +"I deny every word of it," he answered--with a stolid defiance of +tone and manner + +"Have we had enough of assertion and counter-assertion, Sir +Patrick, by this time?" asked Mr. Moy, with undiminished +politeness. + +After first forcing Arnold--with some little difficulty--to +control himself, Sir Patrick raised Mr. Moy's astonishment to the +culminating point. For reasons of his own, he determined to +strengthen the favorable impression which Arnold's statement had +plainly produced on his wife before the inquiry proceeded a step +farther. + +"I must throw myself on your indulgence, Mr. Moy," he said. "I +have not had enough of assertion and counter-assertion, even +yet." + +Mr. Moy leaned back in his chair, with a mixed expression of +bewilderment and resignation. Either his colleague's intellect +was in a failing state--or his colleague had some purpose in view +which had not openly asserted itself yet. He began to suspect +that the right reading of the riddle was involved in the latter +of those two alternatives. Instead of entering any fresh protest, +he wisely waited and watched. + +Sir Patrick went on unblushingly from one irregularity to +another. + +"I request Mr. Moy's permission to revert to the alleged +marriage, on the fourteenth of August, at Craig Fernie," he said. +"Arnold Brinkworth! answer for yourself, in the presence of the +persons here assembled. In all that you said, and all that you +did, while you were at the inn, were you not solely influenced by +the wish to make Miss Silvester's position as little painful to +her as possible, and by anxiety to carry out the instructions +given to you by Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn? Is that the whole truth?" + +"That is the whole truth, Sir Patrick." + +"On the day when you went to Craig Fernie, had you not, a few +hours previously, applied for my permission to marry my niece?" + +"I applied for your permission, Sir Patrick; and you gave it me." + +"From the moment when you entered the inn to the moment when you +left it, were you absolutely innocent of the slightest intention +to marry Miss Silvester?" + +"No such thing as the thought of marrying Miss Silvester ever +entered my head." + +"And this you say, on your word of honor as a gentleman?" + +"On my word of honor as a gentleman." + +Sir Patrick turned to Anne. + +"Was it a matter of necessity, Miss Silvester, that you should +appear in the assumed character of a married woman--on the +fourteenth of August last, at the Craig Fernie inn?" + +Anne looked away from Blanche for the first time. She replied to +Sir Patrick quietly, readily, firmly--Blanche looking at her, and +listening to her with eager interest. + +"I went to the inn alone, Sir Patrick. The landlady refused, in +the plainest terms, to let me stay there, unless she was first +satisfied that I was a married woman." + +"Which of the two gentlemen did you expect to join you at the +inn--Mr. Arnold Brinkworth, or Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn?" + +"Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn." + +"When Mr. Arnold Brinkworth came in his place and said what was +necessary to satisfy the scruples of the landlady, you understood +that he was acting in your interests, from motives of kindness +only, and under the instructions of Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn?" + +"I understood that; and I objected as strongly as I could to Mr. +Brinkworth placing himself in a false position on my account." + +"Did your objection proceed from any knowledge of the Scottish +law of marriage, and of the positi on in which the peculiarities +of that law might place Mr. Brinkworth?" + +"I had no knowledge of the Scottish law. I had a vague dislike +and dread of the deception which Mr. Brinkworth was practicing on +the people of the inn. And I feared that it might lead to some +possible misinterpretation of me on the part of a person whom I +dearly loved." + +"That person being my niece?" + +"Yes." + +"You appealed to Mr. Brinkworth (knowing of his attachment to my +niece), in her name, and for her sake, to leave you to shift for +yourself?" + +"I did." + +"As a gentleman who had given his promise to help and protect a +lady, in the absence of the person whom she had depended on to +join her, he refused to leave you to shift by yourself?" + +"Unhappily, he refused on that account." + +"From first to last, you were absolutely innocent of the +slightest intention to marry Mr. Brinkworth?" + +"I answer, Sir Patrick, as Mr. Brinkworth has answered. No such +thing as the thought of marrying him ever entered my head." + +"And this you say, on your oath as a Christian woman?" + +"On my oath as a Christian woman." + +Sir Patrick looked round at Blanche. Her face was hidden in her +hands. Her step-mother was vainly appealing to her to compose +herself. + +In the moment of silence that followed, Mr. Moy interfered in the +interests of his client. + +"I waive my claim, Sir Patrick, to put any questions on my side. +I merely desire to remind you, and to remind the company present, +that all that we have just heard is mere assertion--on the part +of two persons strongly interested in extricating themselves from +a position which fatally compromises them both. The marriage +which they deny I am now waiting to prove--not by assertion, on +my side, but by appeal to competent witnesses." + +After a brief consultation with her own solicitor, Lady Lundie +followed Mr. Moy, in stronger language still. + +"I wish you to understand, Sir Patrick, before you proceed any +farther, that I shall remove my step-daughter from the room if +any more attempts are made to harrow her feelings and mislead her +judgment. I want words to express my sense of this most cruel and +unfair way of conducting the inquiry." + +The London lawyer followed, stating his professional approval of +his client's view. "As her ladyship's legal adviser," he said, "I +support the protest which her ladyship has just made." + +Even Captain Newenden agreed in the general disapproval of Sir +Patrick's conduct. "Hear, hear!" said the captain, when the +lawyer had spoken. "Quite right. I must say, quite right." + +Apparently impenetrable to all due sense of his position, Sir +Patrick addressed himself to Mr. Moy, as if nothing had happened. + +"Do you wish to produce your witnesses at once?" he asked. "I +have not the least objection to meet your views--on the +understanding that I am permitted to return to the proceedings as +interrupted at this point." + +Mr. Moy considered. The adversary (there could be no doubt of it +by this time) had something in reserve--and the adversary had not +yet shown his hand. It was more immediately important to lead him +into doing this than to insist on rights and privileges of the +purely formal sort. Nothing could shake the strength of the +position which Mr. Moy occupied. The longer Sir Patrick's +irregularities delayed the proceedings, the more irresistibly the +plain facts of the case would assert themselves--with all the +force of contrast--out of the mouths of the witnesses who were in +attendance down stairs. He determined to wait. + +"Reserving my right of objection, Sir Patrick," he answered, "I +beg you to go on." + +To the surprise of every body, Sir Patrick addressed himself +directly to Blanche--quoting the language in which Lady Lundie +had spoken to him, with perfect composure of tone and manner. + +"You know me well enough, my dear," he said, "to be assured that +I am incapable of willingly harrowing your feelings or misleading +your judgment. I have a question to ask you, which you can answer +or not, entirely as you please." + +Before he could put the question there was a momentary contest +between Lady Lundie and her legal adviser. Silencing her ladyship +(not without difficulty), the London lawyer interposed. He also +begged leave to reserve the right of objection, so far as _his_ +client was concerned. + +Sir Patrick assented by a sign, and proceeded to put his question +to Blanche. + +"You have heard what Arnold Brinkworth has said, and what Miss +Silvester has said," he resumed. "The husband who loves you, and +the sisterly friend who loves you, have each made a solemn +declaration. Recall your past experience of both of them; +remember what they have just said; and now tell me--do you +believe they have spoken falsely?" + +Blanche answered on the instant. + +"I believe, uncle, they have spoken the truth!" + +Both the lawyers registered their objections. Lady Lundie made +another attempt to speak, and was stopped once more--this time by +Mr. Moy as well as by her own adviser. Sir Patrick went on. + +"Do you feel any doubt as to the entire propriety of your +husband's conduct and your friend's conduct, now you have seen +them and heard them, face to face?" + +Blanche answered again, with the same absence of reserve. + +"I ask them to forgive me," she said. "I believe I have done them +both a great wrong." + +She looked at her husband first--then at Anne. Arnold attempted +to leave his chair. Sir Patrick firmly restrained him. "Wait!" he +whispered. "You don't know what is coming." Having said that, he +turned toward Anne. Blanche's look had gone to the heart of the +faithful woman who loved her. Anne's face was turned away--the +tears were forcing themselves through the worn weak hands that +tried vainly to hide them. + +The formal objections of the lawyers were registered once more. +Sir Patrick addressed himself to his niece for the last time. + +"You believe what Arnold Brinkworth has said; you believe what +Miss Silvester has said. You know that not even the thought of +marriage was in the mind of either of them, at the inn. You +know--whatever else may happen in the future--that there is not +the most remote possibility of either of them consenting to +acknowledge that they ever have been, or ever can be, Man and +Wife. Is that enough for you? Are you willing, before this +inquiry proceeds any farther to take your husband's hand; to +return to your husband's protection; and to leave the rest to +me--satisfied with my assurance that, on the facts as they +happened, not even the Scotch Law can prove the monstrous +assertion of the marriage at Craig Fernie to be true?" + +Lady Lundie rose. Both the lawyers rose. Arnold sat lost in +astonishment. Geoffrey himself--brutishly careless thus far of +all that had passed--lifted his head with a sudden start. In the +midst of the profound impression thus produced, Blanche, on whose +decision the whole future course of the inquiry now turned, +answered in these words: + +"I hope you will not think me ungrateful, uncle. I am sure that +Arnold has not, knowingly, done me any wrong. But I can't go back +to him until I am first _certain_ that I am his wife." + +Lady Lundie embraced her step-daughter with a sudden outburst of +affection. "My dear child!" exclaimed her ladyship, fervently. +"Well done, my own dear child!" + +Sir Patrick's head dropped on his breast. "Oh, Blanche! Blanche!" +Arnold heard him whisper to himself; "if you only knew what you +are forcing me to!" + +Mr. Moy put in his word, on Blanche's side of the question. + +"I must most respectfully express my approval also of the course +which the young lady has taken," he said. "A more dangerous +compromise than the compromise which we have just heard suggested +it is difficult to imagine. With all deference to Sir Patrick +Lundie, his opinion of the impossibility of proving the marriage +at Craig Fernie remains to be confirmed as the right one. My own +professional opinion is opposed to it. The opinion of another +Scottish lawyer (in Glasgow) is, to my certain knowledge, opposed +to it. If the young lady had not acted with a wisdom and courage +which do her honor, she might have lived to see the day when her +reputation would have been destroyed, and her children declared +illegitimate. Who is to say that circumstances may not h appen in +the future which may force Mr. Brinkworth or Miss Silvester--one +or the other--to assert the very marriage which they repudiate +now? Who is to say that interested relatives (property being +concerned here) may not in the lapse of years, discover motives +of their own for questioning the asserted marriage in Kent? I +acknowledge that I envy the immense self-confidence which +emboldens Sir Patrick to venture, what he is willing to venture +upon his own individual opinion on an undecided point of law." + +He sat down amidst a murmur of approval, and cast a +slyly-expectant look at his defeated adversary. "If _that_ +doesn't irritate him into showing his hand," thought Mr. Moy, +"nothing will!" + +Sir Patrick slowly raised his head. There was no +irritation--there was only distress in his face--when he spoke +next. + +"I don't propose, Mr. Moy, to argue the point with you," he said, +gently. "I can understand that my conduct must necessarily appear +strange and even blameworthy, not in your eyes only, but in the +eyes of others. My young friend here will tell you" (he looked +toward Arnold) "that the view which you express as to the future +peril involved in this case was once the view in my mind too, and +that in what I have done thus far I have acted in direct +contradiction to advice which I myself gave at no very distant +period. Excuse me, if you please, from entering (for the present +at least) into the motive which has influenced me from the time +when I entered this room. My position is one of unexampled +responsibility and of indescribable distress. May I appeal to +that statement to stand as my excuse, if I plead for a last +extension of indulgence toward the last irregularity of which I +shall be guilty, in connection with these proceedings?" + +Lady Lundie alone resisted the unaffected and touching dignity +with which those words were spoken. + +"We have had enough of irregularity," she said. sternly. "I, for +one, object to more." + +Sir Patrick waited patiently for Mr. Moy's reply. The Scotch +lawyer and the English lawyer looked at each other--and +understood each other. Mr. Moy answered for both. + +"We don't presume to restrain you, Sir Patrick, by other limits +than those which, as a gentleman, you impose on yourself. +Subject," added the cautious Scotchman, "to the right of +objection which we have already reserved." + +"Do you object to my speaking to your client?" asked Sir Patrick. + +"To Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn?" + +"Yes." + +All eyes turned on Geoffrey. He was sitting half asleep, as it +seemed--with his heavy hands hanging listlessly over his knees, +and his chin resting on the hooked handle of his stick. + +Looking toward Anne, when Sir Patrick pronounced Geoffrey's name, +Mr. Moy saw a change in her. She withdrew her hands from her +face, and turned suddenly toward her legal adviser. Was she in +the secret of the carefully concealed object at which his +opponent had been aiming from the first? Mr. Moy decided to put +that doubt to the test. He invited Sir Patrick, by a gesture, to +proceed. Sir Patrick addressed himself to Geoffrey. + +"You are seriously interested in this inquiry," he said; "and you +have taken no part in it yet. Take a part in it now. Look at this +lady." + +Geoffrey never moved. + +"I've seen enough of her already," he said, brutally. + +"You may well be ashamed to look at her," said Sir Patrick, +quietly. "But you might have acknowledged it in fitter words. +Carry your memory back to the fourteenth of August. Do you deny +that you promised to many Miss Silvester privately at the Craig +Fernie inn?" + +"I object to that question," said Mr. Moy. "My client is under no +sort of obligation to answer it." + +Geoffrey's rising temper--ready to resent any thing--resented his +adviser's interference. "I shall answer if I like," he retorted, +insolently. He looked up for a moment at Sir Patrick, without +moving his chin from the hook of his stick. Then he looked down +again. "I do deny it," he said. + +"You deny that you have promised to marry Miss Silvester?" + +"Yes." + +"I asked you just now to look at her--" + +"And I told you I had seen enough of her already." + +"Look at _me._ In my presence, and in the presence of the other +persons here, do you deny that you owe this lady, by your own +solemn engagement, the reparation of marriage?" + +He suddenly lifted his head. His eyes, after resting for an +instant only on Sir Patrick, turned, little by little; and, +brightening slowly, fixed themselves with a hideous, tigerish +glare on Anne's face. "I know what I owe her," he said. + +The devouring hatred of his look was matched by the ferocious +vindictiveness of his tone, as he spoke those words. It was +horrible to see him; it was horrible to hear him. Mr. Moy said to +him, in a whisper, "Control yourself, or I will throw up your +case." + +Without answering--without even listening--he lifted one of his +hands, and looked at it vacantly. He whispered something to +himself; and counted out what he was whispering slowly; in +divisions of his own, on three of his fingers in succession. He +fixed his eyes again on Anne with the same devouring hatred in +their look, and spoke (this time directly addressing himself to +her) with the same ferocious vindictiveness in his tone. "But for +you, I should be married to Mrs. Glenarm. But for you, I should +be friends with my father. But for you, I should have won the +race. I know what I owe you." His loosely hanging hands +stealthily clenched themselves. His head sank again on his broad +breast. He said no more. + +Not a soul moved--not a word was spoken. The same common horror +held them all speechless. Anne's eyes turned once more on +Blanche. Anne's courage upheld her, even at that moment. + +Sir Patrick rose. The strong emotion which he had suppressed thus +far, showed itself plainly in his face--uttered itself plainly in +his voice. + +"Come into the next room," he said to Anne. "I must speak to you +instantly!" + +Without noticing the astonishment that he caused; without paying +the smallest attention to the remonstrances addressed to him by +his sister-in-law and by the Scotch lawyer, he took Anne by the +arm, opened the folding-doors at one end of the room--entered the +room beyond with her--and closed the doors again. + +Lady Lundie appealed to her legal adviser. Blanche rose--advanced +a few steps--and stood in breathless suspense, looking at the +folding-doors. Arnold advanced a step, to speak to his wife. The +captain approached Mr. Moy. + +"What does this mean?" he asked. + +Mr. Moy answered, in strong agitation on his side. + +"It means that I have not been properly instructed. Sir Patrick +Lundie has some evidence in his possession that seriously +compromises Mr. Delamayn's case. He has shrunk from producing it +hitherto--he finds himself forced to produce it now. How is it," +asked the lawyer, turning sternly on his client, "that you have +left me in the dark?" + +"I know nothing about it," answered Geoffrey, without lifting his +head. + +Lady Lundie signed to Blanche to stand aside, and advanced toward +the folding-doors. Mr. Moy stopped her. + +"I advise your ladyship to be patient. Interference is useless +there." + +"Am I not to interfere, Sir, in my own house?" + +"Unless I am entirely mistaken, madam, the end of the proceedings +in your house is at hand. You will damage your own interests by +interfering. Let us know what we are about at last. Let the end +come." + +Lady Lundie yielded, and returned to her place. They all waited +in silence for the opening of the doors. + + + +Sir Patrick Lundie and Anne Silvester were alone in the room. + +He took from the breast-pocket of his coat the sheet of +note-paper which contained Anne's letter, and Geoffrey's reply. +His hand trembled as he held it; his voice faltered as he spoke. + +"I have done all that can be done," he said. "I have left nothing +untried, to prevent the necessity of producing this." + +"I feel your kindness gratefully, Sir Patrick. You must produce +it now." + +The woman's calmness presented a strange and touching contrast to +the man's emotion. There was no shrinking in her face, there was +no unsteadiness in her voice as she answered him. He took her +hand. Twice he attempted to speak; and twice his own agitation +overpowered him. He offered the letter to her i n silence. + +In silence, on her side, she put the letter away from her, +wondering what he meant. + +"Take it back," he said. "I can't produce it! I daren't produce +it! After what my own eyes have seen, after what my own ears have +heard, in the next room--as God is my witness, I daren't ask you +to declare yourself Geoffrey Delamayn's wife!" + +She answered him in one word. + +"Blanche!" + +He shook his head impatiently. "Not even in Blanche's interests! +Not even for Blanche's sake! If there is any risk, it is a risk I +am ready to run. I hold to my own opinion. I believe my own view +to be right. Let it come to an appeal to the law! I will fight +the case, and win it." + +"Are you _sure_ of winning it, Sir Patrick?" + +Instead of replying, he pressed the letter on her. "Destroy it," +he whispered. "And rely on my silence." + +She took the letter from him. + +"Destroy it," he repeated. "They may open the doors. They may +come in at any moment, and see it in your hand." + +"I have something to ask you, Sir Patrick, before I destroy it. +Blanche refuses to go back to her husband, unless she returns +with the certain assurance of being really his wife. If I produce +this letter, she may go back to him to-day. If I declare myself +Geoffrey Delamayn's wife, I clear Arnold Brinkworth, at once and +forever of all suspicion of being married to me. Can you as +certainly and effectually clear him in any other way? Answer me +that, as a man of honor speaking to a woman who implicitly trusts +him!" + +She looked him full in the face. His eyes dropped before hers--he +made no reply. + +"I am answered," she said. + +With those words, she passed him, and laid her hand on the door. + +He checked her. The tears rose in his eyes as he drew her gently +back into the room. + +"Why should we wait?" she asked. + +"Wait," he answered, "as a favor to _me._" + +She seated herself calmly in the nearest chair, and rested her +head on her hand, thinking. + +He bent over her, and roused her, impatiently, almost angrily. +The steady resolution in her face was terrible to him, when he +thought of the man in the next room. + +"Take time to consider," he pleaded. "Don't be led away by your +own impulse. Don't act under a false excitement. Nothing binds +you to this dreadful sacrifice of yourself." + +"Excitement! Sacrifice!" She smiled sadly as she repeated the +words. "Do you know, Sir Patrick, what I was thinking of a moment +since? Only of old times, when I was a little girl. I saw the sad +side of life sooner than most children see it. My mother was +cruelly deserted. The hard marriage laws of this country were +harder on her than on me. She died broken-hearted. But one friend +comforted her at the last moment, and promised to be a mother to +her child. I can't remember one unhappy day in all the after-time +when I lived with that faithful woman and her little +daughter--till the day that parted us. She went away with her +husband; and I and the little daughter were left behind. She said +her last words to me. Her heart was sinking under the dread of +coming death. 'I promised your mother that you should be like my +own child to me, and it quieted her mind. Quiet _my_ mind, Anne, +before I go. Whatever happens in years to come--promise me to be +always what you are now, a sister to Blanche.' Where is the false +excitement, Sir Patrick, in old remembrances like these? And how +can there be a sacrifice in any thing that I do for Blanche?" + +She rose, and offered him her hand. Sir Patrick lifted it to his +lips in silence. + +"Come!" she said. "For both our sakes, let us not prolong this." + +He turned aside his head. It was no moment to let her see that +she had completely unmanned him. She waited for him, with her +hand on the lock. He rallied his courage--he forced himself to +face the horror of the situation calmly. She opened the door, and +led the way back into the other room. + + + +Not a word was spoken by any of the persons present, as the two +returned to their places. The noise of a carriage passing in the +street was painfully audible. The chance banging of a door in the +lower regions of the house made every one start. + +Anne's sweet voice broke the dreary silence. + +"Must I speak for myself, Sir Patrick? Or will you (I ask it as a +last and greatest favor) speak for me?" + +"You insist on appealing to the letter in your hand?" + +"I am resolved to appeal to it." + +"Will nothing induce you to defer the close of this inquiry--so +far as you are concerned--for four-and-twenty hours?" + +"Either you or I, Sir Patrick, must say what is to be said, and +do what is to be done, before we leave this room." + +"Give me the letter." + +She gave it to him. Mr. Moy whispered to his client, "Do you know +what that is?" Geoffrey shook his head. "Do you really remember +nothing about it?" Geoffrey answered in one surly word, +"Nothing!" + +Sir Patrick addressed himself to the assembled company. + +"I have to ask your pardon," he said, "for abruptly leaving the +room, and for obliging Miss Silvester to leave it with me. Every +body present, except that man" (he pointed to Geoffrey), "will, I +believe, understand and forgive me, now that I am forced to make +my conduct the subject of the plainest and the fullest +explanation. I shall address that explanation, for reasons which +will presently appear, to my niece." + +Blanche started. "To me!" she exclaimed. + +"To you," Sir Patrick answered. + +Blanche turned toward Arnold, daunted by a vague sense of +something serious to come. The letter that she had received from +her husband on her departure from Ham Farm had necessarily +alluded to relations between Geoffrey and Anne, of which Blanche +had been previously ignorant. Was any reference coming to those +relations? Was there something yet to be disclosed which Arnold's +letter had not prepared her to hear? + +Sir Patrick resumed. + +"A short time since," he said to Blanche, "I proposed to you to +return to your husband's protection--and to leave the termination +of this matter in my hands. You have refused to go back to him +until you are first certainly assured that you are his wife. +Thanks to a sacrifice to your interests and your happiness, on +Miss Silvester's part--which I tell you frankly I have done my +utmost to prevent--I am in a position to prove positively that +Arnold Brinkworth was a single man when he married you from my +house in Kent." + +Mr. Moy's experience forewarned him of what was coming. He +pointed to the letter in Sir Patrick's hand. + +"Do you claim on a promise of marriage?" he asked. + +Sir Patrick rejoined by putting a question on his side. + +"Do you remember the famous decision at Doctors' Commons, which +established the marriage of Captain Dalrymple and Miss Gordon?" + +Mr. Moy was answered. "I understand you, Sir Patrick," he said. +After a moment's pause, he addressed his next words to Anne. "And +from the bottom of my heart, madam, I respect _you._" + +It was said with a fervent sincerity of tone which wrought the +interest of the other persons, who were still waiting for +enlightenment, to the highest pitch. Lady Lundie and Captain +Newenden whispered to each other anxiously. Arnold turned pale. +Blanche burst into tears. + +Sir Patrick turned once more to his niece. + +"Some little time since," he said, "I had occasion to speak to +you of the scandalous uncertainty of the marriage laws of +Scotland. But for that uncertainty (entirely without parallel in +any other civilized country in Europe), Arnold Brinkworth would +never have occupied the position in which he stands here +to-day--and these proceedings would never have taken place. Bear +that fact in mind. It is not only answerable for the mischief +that has been already done, but for the far more serious evil +which is still to come." + +Mr. Moy took a note. Sir Patrick went on. + +"Loose and reckless as the Scotch law is, there happens, however, +to be one case in which the action of it has been confirmed and +settled by the English Courts. A written promise of marriage +exchanged between a man and woman, in Scotland, marries that man +and woman by Scotch law. An English Court of Justice (sitting in +judgment on the ease I have just mentioned to Mr. Moy) has +pronounced that law to be good--and the decision has since been +confirmed by the supreme authority of the Hous e of Lords. Where +the persons therefore--living in Scotland at the time--have +promised each other marriage in writing, there is now no longer +any doubt they are certainly, and lawfully, Man and Wife." He +turned from his niece, and appealed to Mr. Moy." Am I right?" + +"Quite right, Sir Patrick, as to the facts. I own, however, that +your commentary on them surprises me. I have the highest opinion +of our Scottish marriage law. A man who has betrayed a woman +under a promise of marriage is forced by that law (in the +interests of public morality) to acknowledge her as his wife." + +"The persons here present, Mr. Moy, are now about to see the +moral merit of the Scotch law of marriage (as approved by +England) practically in operation before their own eyes. They +will judge for themselves of the morality (Scotch or English) +which first forces a deserted woman back on the villain who has +betrayed her, and then virtuously leaves her to bear the +consequences." + +With that answer, he turned to Anne, and showed her the letter, +open in his hand. + +"For the last time," he said, "do you insist on my appealing to +this?" + +She rose, and bowed her head gravely. + +"It is my distressing duty," said Sir Patrick, "to declare, in +this lady's name, and on the faith of written promises of +marriage exchanged between the parties, then residing in +Scotland, that she claims to be now--and to have been on the +afternoon of the fourteenth of August last--Mr. Geoffrey +Delamayn's wedded wife." + +A cry of horror from Blanche, a low murmur of dismay from the +rest, followed the utterance of those words. + +There was a pause of an instant. + +Then Geoffrey rose slowly to his feet, and fixed his eyes on the +wife who had claimed him. + +The spectators of the terrible scene turned with one accord +toward the sacrificed woman. The look which Geoffrey had cast on +her--the words which Geoffrey had spoken to her--were present to +all their minds. She stood, waiting by Sir Patrick's side--her +soft gray eyes resting sadly and tenderly on Blanche's face. To +see that matchless courage and resignation was to doubt the +reality of what had happened. They were forced to look back at +the man to possess their minds with the truth. + +The triumph of law and morality over him was complete. He never +uttered a word. His furious temper was perfectly and fearfully +calm. With the promise of merciless vengeance written in the +Devil s writing on his Devil-possessed face, he kept his eyes +fixed on the hated woman whom he had ruined--on the hated woman +who was fastened to him as his wife. + +His lawyer went over to the table at which Sir Patrick sat. Sir +Patrick handed him the sheet of note-paper. + +He read the two letters contained in it with absorbed and +deliberate attention. The moments that passed before he lifted +his head from his reading seemed like hours. "Can you prove the +handwritings?" he asked. "And prove the residence?" + +Sir Patrick took up a second morsel of paper lying ready under +his hand. + +"There are the names of persons who can prove the writing, and +prove the residence," he replied. "One of your two witnesses +below stairs (otherwise useless) can speak to the hour at which +Mr. Brinkworth arrived at the inn, and so can prove that the lady +for whom he asked was, at that moment, Mrs. Geoffrey Delamayn. +The indorsement on the back of the note-paper, also referring to +the question of time, is in the handwriting of the same +witness--to whom I refer you, when it suits your convenience to +question him." + +"I will verify the references, Sir Patrick, as matter of form. In +the mean time, not to interpose needless and vexatious delay, I +am bound to say that I can not resist the evidence of the +marriage." + +Having replied in those terms he addressed himself, with marked +respect and sympathy, to Anne. + +"On the faith of the written promise of marriage exchanged +between you in Scotland," he said, "you claim Mr. Geoffrey +Delamayn as your husband?" + +She steadily repented the words after him. + +"I claim Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn as my husband." + +Mr. Moy appealed to his client. Geoffrey broke silence at last. + +"Is it settled?" he asked. + +"To all practical purposes, it is settled." + +He went on, still looking at nobody but Anne. + +"Has the law of Scotland made her my wife?" + +"The law of Scotland has made her your wife." + +He asked a third and last question. + +"Does the law tell her to go where her husband goes?" + +"Yes." + +He laughed softly to himself, and beckoned to her to cross the +room to the place at which he was standing. + +She obeyed. At the moment when she took the first step to +approach him, Sir Patrick caught her hand, and whispered to her, +"Rely on me!" She gently pressed his hand in token that she +understood him, and advanced to Geoffrey. At the same moment, +Blanche rushed between them, and flung her arms around Anne's +neck. + +"Oh, Anne! Anne!" + +An hysterical passion of tears choked her utterance. Anne gently +unwound the arms that clung round her--gently lifted the head +that lay helpless on her bosom. + +"Happier days are coming, my love," she said. "Don't think of +_me._" + +She kissed her--looked at her--kissed her again--and placed her +in her husband's arms. Arnold remembered her parting words at +Craig Fernie, when they had wished each other good-night. "You +have not befriended an ungrateful woman. The day may yet come +when I shall prove it." Gratitude and admiration struggled in him +which should utter itself first, and held him speechless. + +She bent her head gently in token that she understood him. Then +she went on, and stood before Geoffrey. + +"I am here," she said to him. "What do you wish me to do?" + +A hideous smile parted his heavy lips. He offered her his arm. + +"Mrs. Geoffrey Delamayn," he said. "Come home." + +The picture of the lonely house, isolated amidst its high walls; +the ill-omened figure of the dumb woman with the stony eyes and +the savage ways--the whole scene, as Anne had pictured it to him +but two days since, rose vivid as reality before Sir Patrick's +mind. "No!" he cried out, carried away by the generous impulse of +the moment. "It shall _not_ be!" + +Geoffrey stood impenetrable--waiting with his offered arm. Pale +and resolute, she lifted her noble head--called back the courage +which had faltered for a moment--and took his arm. He led her to +the door. "Don't let Blanche fret about me," she said, simply, to +Arnold as they went by. They passed Sir Patrick next. Once more +his sympathy for her set every other consideration at defiance. +He started up to bar the way to Geoffrey. Geoffrey paused, and +looked at Sir Patrick for the first time. + +"The law tells her to go with her husband," he said. "The law +forbids you to part Man and Wife." + +True. Absolutely, undeniably true. The law sanctioned the +sacrifice of her as unanswerably as it had sanctioned the +sacrifice of her mother before her. In the name of Morality, let +him take her! In the interests of Virtue, let her get out of it +if she can! + +Her husband opened the door. Mr. Moy laid his hand on Sir +Patrick's arm. Lady Lundie, Captain Newenden, the London lawyer, +all left their places, influenced, for once, by the same +interest; feeling, for once, the same suspense. Arnold followed +them, supporting his wife. For one memorable instant Anne looked +back at them all. Then she and her husband crossed the threshold. +They descended the stairs together. The opening and closing of +the house door was heard. They were gone. + + + +Done, in the name of Morality. Done, in the interests of Virtue. +Done, in an age of progress, and under the most perfect +government on the face of the earth. + + +FIFTEENTH SCENE.--HOLCHESTER HOUSE. + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-SEVENTH. + +THE LAST CHANCE. + +"HIS lordship is dangerously ill, Sir. Her ladyship can receive +no visitors." + +"Be so good as to take that card to Lady Holchester. It is +absolutely necessary that your mistress should be made +acquainted--in the interests of her younger son--with something +which I can only mention to her ladyship herself." + +The two persons speaking were Lord Holchester's head servant and +Sir Patrick Lundie. At that time barely half an hour had passed +since the close of the proceedings at Portland Place. + +The servant still hesitated with the card + in his hand. "I shall forfeit my situation," he said, "if I do +it." + +"You will most assuredly forfeit your situation if you _don't_ do +it," returned Sir Patrick. "I warn you plainly, this is too +serious a matter to be trifled with." + +The tone in which those words were spoken had its effect. The man +went up stairs with his message. + +Sir Patrick waited in the hall. Even the momentary delay of +entering one of the reception-rooms was more than he could endure +at that moment. Anne's happiness was hopelessly sacrificed +already. The preservation of her personal safety--which Sir +Patrick firmly believed to be in danger--was the one service +which it was possible to render to her now. The perilous position +in which she stood toward her husband--as an immovable obstacle, +while she lived, between Geoffrey and Mrs. Glenarm--was beyond +the reach of remedy. But it was still possible to prevent her +from becoming the innocent cause of Geoffrey's pecuniary ruin, by +standing in the way of a reconciliation between father and son. + +Resolute to leave no means untried of serving Anne's interests, +Sir Patrick had allowed Arnold and Blanche to go to his own +residence in London, alone, and had not even waited to say a +farewell word to any of the persons who had taken part in the +inquiry. "Her life may depend on what I can do for her at +Holchester House!" With that conviction in him, he had left +Portland Place. With that conviction in him, he had sent his +message to Lady Holchester, and was now waiting for the reply. + +The servant appeared again on the stairs. Sir Patrick went up to +meet him. + +"Her ladyship will see you, Sir, for a few minutes." + +The door of an upper room was opened; and Sir Patrick found +himself in the presence of Geoffrey's mother. There was only time +to observe that she possessed the remains of rare personal +beauty, and that she received her visitor with a grace and +courtesy which implied (under the circumstances) a considerate +regard for _his_ position at the expense of her own. + +"You have something to say to me, Sir Patrick, on the subject of +my second son. I am in great affliction. If you bring me bad +news, I will do my best to bear it. May I trust to your kindness +not to keep me in suspense?" + +"It will help me to make my intrusion as little painful as +possible to your ladyship," replied Sir Patrick, "if I am +permitted to ask a question. Have you heard of any obstacle to +the contemplated marriage of Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn and Mrs. +Glenarm?" + +Even that distant reference to Anne produced an ominous change +for the worse in Lady Holchester's manner. + +"I have heard of the obstacle to which you allude," she said. +"Mrs. Glenarm is an intimate friend of mine. She has informed me +that a person named Silvester, an impudent adventuress--" + +"I beg your ladyship's pardon. You are doing a cruel wrong to the +noblest woman I have ever met with." + +"I can not undertake, Sir Patrick, to enter into your reasons for +admiring her. Her conduct toward my son has, I repeat, been the +conduct of an impudent adventuress." + +Those words showed Sir Patrick the utter hopelessness of shaking +her prejudice against Anne. He decided on proceeding at once to +the disclosure of the truth. + +"I entreat you so say no more," he answered. "Your ladyship is +speaking of your son's wife." + +"My son has married Miss Silvester?" + +"Yes." + +She turned deadly pale. It appeared, for an instant, as if the +shock had completely overwhelmed her. But the mother's weakness +was only momentary The virtuous indignation of the great lady had +taken its place before Sir Patrick could speak again. She rose to +terminate the interview. + +"I presume," she said, "that your errand here is as an end." + +Sir Patrick rose, on his side, resolute to do the duty which had +brought him to the house. + +"I am compelled to trespass on your ladyship's attention for a +few minutes more," he answered. "The circumstances attending the +marriage of Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn are of no common importance. I +beg permission (in the interests of his family) to state, very +briefly, what they are." + +In a few clear sentences he narrated what had happened, that +afternoon, in Portland Place. Lady Holchester listened with the +steadiest and coldest attention. So far as outward appearances +were concerned, no impression was produced upon her. + +"Do you expect me," she asked, "to espouse the interests of a +person who has prevented my son from marrying the lady of his +choice, and of mine?" + +"Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn, unhappily, has that reason for resenting +his wife's innocent interference with interests of considerable, +importance to him," returned Sir Patrick. "I request your +ladyship to consider whether it is desirable--in view of your +son's conduct in the future--to allow his wife to stand in the +doubly perilous relation toward him of being also a cause of +estrangement between his father and himself." + +He had put it with scrupulous caution. But Lady Holchester +understood what he had refrained from saving as well as what he +had actually said. She had hitherto remained standing--she now +sat down again. There was a visible impression produced on her at +last. + +"In Lord Holchester's critical state of health," she answered, "I +decline to take the responsibility of telling him what you have +just told me. My own influence has been uniformly exerted in my +son's favor--as long as my interference could be productive of +any good result. The time for my interference has passed. Lord +Holchester has altered his will this morning. I was not present; +and I have not yet been informed of what has been done. Even if I +knew--" + +"Your ladyship would naturally decline," said Sir Patrick, "to +communicate the information to a stranger." + +"Certainly. At the same time, after what you have said, I do not +feel justified in deciding on this matter entirely by myself. One +of Lord Holchester's executors is now in the house. There can be +no impropriety in your seeing him--if you wish it. You are at +liberty to say, from me, that I leave it entirely to his +discretion to decide what ought to be done." + +"I gladly accept your ladyship's proposal." + +Lady Holchester rang the bell at her side. + +"Take Sir Patrick Lundie to Mr. Marchwood," she said to the +servant. + +Sir Patrick started. The name was familiar to him, as the name of +a friend. + +"Mr. Marchwood of Hurlbeck?" he asked. + +"The same." + +With that brief answer, Lady Holchester dismissed her visitor. +Following the servant to the other end of the corridor, Sir +Patrick was conducted into a small room--the ante-chamber to the +bedroom in which Lord Holchester lay. The door of communication +was closed. A gentleman sat writing at a table near the window. +He rose, and held out his hand, with a look of surprise, when the +servant announced Sir Patrick's name. This was Mr. Marchwood. + +After the first explanations had been given, Sir Patrick +patiently reverted to the object of his visit to Holchester +House. On the first occasion when he mentioned Anne's name he +observed that Mr. Marchwood became, from that moment, specially +interested in what he was saying. + +"Do you happen to be acquainted with the lady?" he asked + +"I only know her as the cause of a very strange proceeding, this +morning, in that room." He pointed to Lord Holchester's bedroom +as he spoke. + +"Are you at liberty to mention what the proceeding was?" + +"Hardly--even to an old friend like you--unless I felt it a +matter of duty, on my part, to state the circumstances. Pray go +on with what you were saying to me. You were on the point of +telling me what brought you to this house." + +Without a word more of preface, Sir Patrick told him the news of +Geoffrey's marriage to Anne. + +"Married!" cried Mr. Marchwood. "Are you sure of what you say?" + +"I am one of the witnesses of the marriage." + +"Good Heavens! And Lord Holchester's lawyer has left the house!" + +"Can I replace him? Have I, by any chance justified you in +telling me what happened this morning in the next room?" + +"Justified me? You have left me no other alternative. The doctors +are all agreed in dreading apoplexy--his lordship may die at any +moment. In the lawyer's absence, I must take it on myself. Here +are the facts. There is the codicil to Lord + Holchester's Will which is still unsigned." + +"Relating to his second son?" + +"Relating to Geoffrey Delamayn, and giving him (when it is once +executed) a liberal provision for life." + +"What is the object in the way of his executing it?" + +"The lady whom you have just mentioned to me." + +"Anne Silvester!" + +"Anne Silvester--now (as you tell me) Mrs. Geoffrey Delamayn. I +can only explain the thing very imperfectly. There are certain +painful circumstances associated in his lordship's memory with +this lady, or with some member of her family. We can only gather +that he did something--in the early part of his professional +career--which was strictly within the limits of his duty, but +which apparently led to very sad results. Some days since he +unfortunately heard (either through Mrs. Glenarm or through Mrs. +Julius Delamayn) of Miss Silvester's appearance at Swanhaven +Lodge. No remark on the subject escaped him at the time. It was +only this morning, when the codicil giving the legacy to Geoffrey +was waiting to be executed, that his real feeling in the matter +came out. To our astonishment, he refused to sign it. 'Find Anne +Silvester' (was the only answer we could get from him); 'and +bring her to my bedside. You all say my son is guiltless of +injuring her. I am lying on my death-bed. I have serious reasons +of my own--I owe it to the memory of the dead--to assure myself +of the truth. If Anne Silvester herself acquits him of having +wronged her, I will provide for Geoffrey. Not otherwise.' We went +the length of reminding him that he might die before Miss +Silvester could be found. Our interference had but one result. He +desired the lawyer to add a second codicil to the Will--which he +executed on the spot. It directs his executors to inquire into +the relations that have actually existed between Anne Silvester +and his younger son. If we find reason to conclude that Geoffrey +has gravely wronged her, we are directed to pay her a +legacy--provided that she is a single woman at the time." + +"And her marriage violates the provision!" exclaimed Sir Patrick. + +"Yes. The codicil actually executed is now worthless. And the +other codicil remains unsigned until the lawyer can produce Miss +Silvester. He has left the house to apply to Geoffrey at Fulham, +as the only means at our disposal of finding the lady. Some hours +have passed--and he has not yet returned." + +"It is useless to wait for him," said Sir Patrick. "While the +lawyer was on his way to Fulham, Lord Holchester's son was on his +way to Portland Place. This is even more serious than you +suppose. Tell me, what under less pressing circumstances I should +have no right to ask. Apart from the unexecuted codicil what is +Geoffrey Delamayn's position in the will?" + +"He is not even mentioned in it." + +"Have you got the will?" + +Mr. Marchwood unlocked a drawer, and took it out. + +Sir Patrick instantly rose from his chair. "No waiting for the +lawyer!" he repeated, vehemently. "This is a matter of life and +death. Lady Holchester bitterly resents her son's marriage. She +speaks and feels as a friend of Mrs. Glenarm. Do you think Lord +Holchester would take the same view if he knew of it?" + +"It depends entirely on the circumstances." + +"Suppose I informed him--as I inform you in confidence--that his +son _has_ gravely wronged Miss Silvester? And suppose I followed +that up by telling him that his son has made atonement by +marrying her?" + +"After the feeling that he has shown in the matter, I believe he +would sign the codicil." + +"Then, for God's sake, let me see him!" + +"I must speak to the doctor." + +"Do it instantly!" + +With the will in his hand, Mr. Marchwood advanced to the bedroom +door. It was opened from within before he could get to it. The +doctor appeared on the threshold. He held up his hand warningly +when Mr. Marchwood attempted to speak to him. + +"Go to Lady Holchester," he said. "It's all over." + +"Dead?" + +"Dead." + + +SIXTEENTH SCENE.--SALT PATCH. + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-EIGHTH. + +THE PLACE. + +EARLY in the present century it was generally reported among the +neighbors of one Reuben Limbrick that he was in a fair way to +make a comfortable little fortune by dealing in Salt. + +His place of abode was in Staffordshire, on a morsel of freehold +land of his own--appropriately called Salt Patch. Without being +absolutely a miser, he lived in the humblest manner, saw very +little company; skillfully invested his money; and persisted in +remaining a single man. + +Toward eighteen hundred and forty he first felt the approach of +the chronic malady which ultimately terminated his life. After +trying what the medical men of his own locality could do for him, +with very poor success, he met by accident with a doctor living +in the western suburbs of London, who thoroughly understood his +complaint. After some journeying backward and forward to consult +this gentleman, he decided on retiring from business, and on +taking up his abode within an easy distance of his medical man. + +Finding a piece of freehold land to be sold in the neighborhood +of Fulham, he bought it, and had a cottage residence built on it, +under his own directions. He surrounded the whole--being a man +singularly jealous of any intrusion on his retirement, or of any +chance observation of his ways and habits--with a high wall, +which cost a large sum of money, and which was rightly considered +a dismal and hideous object by the neighbors. When the new +residence was completed, he called it after the name of the place +in Staffordshire where he had made his money, and where he had +lived during the happiest period of his life. His relatives, +failing to understand that a question of sentiment was involved +in this proceeding, appealed to hard facts, and reminded him that +there were no salt mines in the neighborhood. Reuben Limbrick +answered, "So much the worse for the neighborhood"--and persisted +in calling his property, "Salt Patch." + +The cottage was so small that it looked quite lost in the large +garden all round it. There was a ground-floor and a floor above +it--and that was all. + +On either side of the passage, on the lower floor, were two +rooms. At the right-hand side, on entering by the front-door, +there was a kitchen, with its outhouses attached. The room next +to the kitchen looked into the garden. In Reuben Limbrick's time +it was called the study and contained a small collection of books +and a large store of fishing-tackle. On the left-hand side of the +passage there was a drawing-room situated at the back of the +house, and communicating with a dining-room in the front. On the +upper floor there were five bedrooms--two on one side of the +passage, corresponding in size with the dining-room and the +drawing-room below, but not opening into each other; three on the +other side of the passage, consisting of one larger room in +front, and of two small rooms at the back. All these were solidly +and completely furnished. Money had not been spared, and +workmanship had not been stinted. It was all substantial--and, up +stairs and down stairs, it was all ugly. + +The situation of Salt Patch was lonely. The lands of the +market-gardeners separated it from other houses. Jealously +surrounded by its own high walls, the cottage suggested, even to +the most unimaginative persons, the idea of an asylum or a +prison. Reuben Limbrick's relatives, occasionally coming to stay +with him, found the place prey on their spirits, and rejoiced +when the time came for going home again. They were never pressed +to stay against their will. Reuben Limbrick was not a hospitable +or a sociable man. He set very little value on human sympathy, in +his attacks of illness; and he bore congratulations impatiently, +in his intervals of health. "I care about nothing but fishing," +he used to say. "I find my dog very good company. And I am quite +happy as long as I am free from pain." + +On his death-bed, he divided his money justly enough among his +relations. The only part of his Will which exposed itself to +unfavorable criticism, was a clause conferring a legacy on one of +his sisters (then a widow) who had estranged herself from her +family by marrying beneath her. The family agreed in considering +this unhappy person as undeserving of notice or benefit. Her name +was Hester Dethridge. It proved to be a great aggravation of +Hester's offenses, in the eyes of Hester's relatives, when it was +discovered that she possessed a life-interest in Salt Patch, and +an income of two hundred a year. + +Not visited by the surviving members of her family, living, +literally, by herself in the world, Hester decided, in spite of +her comfortable little income, on letting lodgings. The +explanation of this strange conduct which she had written on her +slate, in reply to an inquiry from Anne, was the true one. "I +have not got a friend in the world: I dare not live alone." In +that desolate situation, and with that melancholy motive, she put +the house into an agent's hands. The first person in want of +lodgings whom the agent sent to see the place was Perry the +trainer; and Hester's first tenant was Geoffrey Delamayn. + +The rooms which the landlady reserved for herself were the +kitchen, the room next to it, which had once been her brother's +"study," and the two small back bedrooms up stairs--one for +herself, the other for the servant-girl whom she employed to help +her. The whole of the rest of the cottage was to let. It was more +than the trainer wanted; but Hester Dethridge refused to dispose +of her lodgings--either as to the rooms occupied, or as to the +period for which they were to be taken--on other than her own +terms. Perry had no alternative but to lose the advantage of the +garden as a private training-ground, or to submit. + +Being only two in number, the lodgers had three bedrooms to +choose from. Geoffrey established himself in the back-room, over +the drawing-room. Perry chose the front-room, placed on the other +side of the cottage, next to the two smaller apartments occupied +by Hester and her maid. Under this arrangement, the front +bedroom, on the opposite side of the passage--next to the room in +which Geoffrey slept--was left empty, and was called, for the +time being, the spare room. As for the lower floor, the athlete +and his trainer ate their meals in the dining-room; and left the +drawing-room, as a needless luxury, to take care of itself. + +The Foot-Race once over, Perry's business at the cottage was at +an end. His empty bedroom became a second spare room. The term +for which the lodgings had been taken was then still unexpired. +On the day after the race Geoffrey had to choose between +sacrificing the money, or remaining in the lodgings by himself, +with two spare bedrooms on his hands, and with a drawing-room for +the reception of his visitors--who called with pipes in their +mouths, and whose idea of hospitality was a pot of beer in the +garden. + +To use his own phrase, he was "out of sorts." A sluggish +reluctance to face change of any kind possessed him. He decided +on staying at Salt Patch until his marriage to Mrs. Glenarm +(which he then looked upon as a certainty) obliged him to alter +his habits completely, once for all. From Fulham he had gone, the +next day, to attend the inquiry in Portland Place. And to Fulham +he returned, when he brought the wife who had been forced upon +him to her "home." + +Such was the position of the tenant, and such were the +arrangements of the interior of the cottage, on the memorable +evening when Anne Silvester entered it as Geoffrey's wife. + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-NINTH. + +THE NIGHT. + +ON leaving Lady Lundie's house, Geoffrey called the first empty +cab that passed him. He opened the door, and signed to Anne to +enter the vehicle. She obeyed him mechanically. He placed himself +on the seat opposite to her, and told the man to drive to Fulham. + +The cab started on its journey; husband and wife preserving +absolute silence. Anne laid her head back wearily, and closed her +eyes. Her strength had broken down under the effort which had +sustained her from the beginning to the end of the inquiry. Her +power of thinking was gone. She felt nothing, knew nothing, +feared nothing. Half in faintness, half in slumber, she had lost +all sense of her own terrible position before the first five +minutes of the journey to Fulham had come to an end. + +Sitting opposite to her, savagely self-concentrated in his own +thoughts, Geoffrey roused himself on a sudden. An idea had sprung +to life in his sluggish brain. He put his head out of the window +of the cab, and directed the driver to turn back, and go to an +hotel near the Great Northern Railway. + +Resuming his seat, he looked furtively at Anne. She neither moved +nor opened her eyes--she was, to all appearance, unconscious of +what had happened. He observed her attentively. Was she really +ill? Was the time coming when he would be freed from her? He +pondered over that question--watching her closely. Little by +little the vile hope in him slowly died away, and a vile +suspicion took its place. What, if this appearance of illness was +a pretense? What, if she was waiting to throw him off his guard, +and escape from him at the first opportunity? He put his head out +of the window again, and gave another order to the driver. The +cab diverged from the direct route, and stopped at a public house +in Holborn, kept (under an assumed name) by Perry the trainer. + +Geoffrey wrote a line in pencil on his card, and sent it into the +house by the driver. After waiting some minutes, a lad appeared +and touched his hat. Geoffrey spoke to him, out of the window, in +an under-tone. The lad took his place on the box by the driver. +The cab turned back, and took the road to the hotel near the +Great Northern Railway. + +Arrived at the place, Geoffrey posted the lad close at the door +of the. cab, and pointed to Anne, still reclining with closed +eyes; still, as it seemed, too weary to lift her head, too faint +to notice any thing that happened. "If she attempts to get out, +stop her, and send for me." With those parting directions he +entered the hotel, and asked for Mr. Moy. + +Mr. Moy was in the house; he had just returned from Portland +Place. He rose, and bowed coldly, when Geoffrey was shown into +his sitting-room. + +"What is your business with me?" he asked. + +"I've had a notion come into my head," said Geoffrey. "And I want +to speak to you about it directly." + +"I must request you to consult some one else. Consider me, if you +please, as having withdrawn from all further connection with your +affairs." + +Geoffrey looked at him in stolid surprise. + +"Do you mean to say you're going to leave me in the lurch?" he +asked. + +"I mean to say that I will take no fresh step in any business of +yours," answered Mr. Moy, firmly. "As to the future, I have +ceased to be your legal adviser. As to the past, I shall +carefully complete the formal duties toward you which remain to +be done. Mrs. Inchbare and Bishopriggs are coming here by +appointment, at six this evening, to receive the money due to +them before they go back. I shall return to Scotland myself by +the night mail. The persons referred to, in the matter of the +promise of marriage, by Sir Patrick, are all in Scotland. I will +take their evidence as to the handwriting, and as to the question +of residence in the North--and I will send it to you in written +form. That done, I shall have done all. I decline to advise you +in any future step which you propose to take." + +After reflecting for a moment, Geoffrey put a last question. + +"You said Bishopriggs and the woman would be here at six this +evening." + +"Yes." + +"Where are they to be found before that?" + +Mr. Moy wrote a few words on a slip of paper, and handed it to +Geoffrey. "At their lodgings," he said. "There is the address." + +Geoffrey took the address, and left the room. Lawyer and client +parted without a word on either side. + +Returning to the cab, Geoffrey found the lad steadily waiting at +his post. + +"Has any thing happened?" + +"The lady hasn't moved, Sir, since you left her." + +"Is Perry at the public house?" + +"Not at this time, Sir." + +"I want a lawyer. Do you know who Perry's lawyer is?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"And where he is to be found?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Get up on the box, and tell the man where to drive to." + +The cab went on again along the Euston Road, and stopped at a +house in a side-street, with a professional brass plate on the +door. The lad got down, and came to the window. + +"Here it is, Sir." + +"Knock at the door, and see if he is at home." + +He prove d to be at home. Geoffrey entered the house, leaving his +emissary once more on the watch. The lad noticed that the lady +moved this time. She shivered as if she felt cold--opened her +eyes for a moment wearily, and looked out through the +window--sighed, and sank back again in the corner of the cab. + +After an absence of more than half an hour Geoffrey came out +again. His interview with Perry's lawyer appeared to have +relieved his mind of something that had oppressed it. He once +more ordered the driver to go to Fulham--opened the door to get +into the cab--then, as it seemed, suddenly recollected +himself--and, calling the lad down from the box, ordered him to +get inside, and took his place by the driver. + +As the cab started he looked over his shoulder at Anne through +the front window. "Well worth trying," he said to himself. "It's +the way to be even with her. And it's the way to be free." + +They arrived at the cottage. Possibly, repose had restored Anne's +strength. Possibly, the sight of the place had roused the +instinct of self-preservation in her at last. To Geoffrey's +surprise, she left the cab without assistance. When he opened the +wooden gate, with his own key, she recoiled from it, and looked +at him for the first time. + +He pointed to the entrance. + +"Go in," he said. + +"On what terms?" she asked, without stirring a step. + +Geoffrey dismissed the cab; and sent the lad in, to wait for +further orders. These things done, he answered her loudly and +brutally the moment they were alone: + +"On any terms I please." + +"Nothing will induce me," she said, firmly, "to live with you as +your wife. You may kill me--but you will never bend me to that." + +He advanced a step--opened his lips--and suddenly checked +himself. He waited a while, turning something over in his mind. +When he spoke again, it was with marked deliberation and +constraint--with the air of a man who was repeating words put +into his lips, or words prepared beforehand. + +"I have something to tell you in the presence of witnesses," he +said. "I don't ask you, or wish you, to see me in the cottage +alone." + +She started at the change in him. His sudden composure, and his +sudden nicety in the choice of words, tried her courage far more +severely than it had been tried by his violence of the moment +before. + +He waited her decision, still pointing through the gate. She +trembled a little--steadied herself again--and went in. The lad, +waiting in the front garden, followed her. + +He threw open the drawing-room door, on the left-hand side of the +passage. She entered the room. The servant-girl appeared. He said +to her, "Fetch Mrs. Dethridge; and come back with her yourself." +Then he went into the room; the lad, by his own directions, +following him in; and the door being left wide open. + +Hester Dethridge came out from the kitchen with the girl behind +her. At the sight of Anne, a faint and momentary change passed +over the stony stillness of her face. A dull light glimmered in +her eyes. She slowly nodded her head. A dumb sound, vaguely +expressive of something like exultation or relief, escaped her +lips. + +Geoffrey spoke--once more, with marked deliberation and +constraint; once more, with the air of repeating something which +had been prepared beforehand. He pointed to Anne. + +"This woman is my wife," he said. "In the presence of you three, +as witnesses, I tell her that I don't forgive her. I have brought +her here--having no other place in which I can trust her to +be--to wait the issue of proceedings, undertaken in defense of my +own honor and good name. While she stays here, she will live +separate from me, in a room of her own. If it is necessary for me +to communicate with her, I shall only see her in the presence of +a third person. Do you all understand me?" + +Hester Dethridge bowed her head. The other two answered, +"Yes"--and turned to go out. + +Anne rose. At a sign from Geoffrey, the servant and the lad +waited in the room to hear what she had to say. + +"I know nothing in my conduct," she said, addressing herself to +Geoffrey, "which justifies you in telling these people that you +don't forgive me. Those words applied by you to me are an insult. +I am equally ignorant of what you mean when you speak of +defending your good name. All I understand is, that we are +separate persons in this house, and that I am to have a room of +my own. I am grateful, whatever your motives may be, for the +arrangement that you have proposed. Direct one of these two women +to show me my room." + +Geoffrey turned to Hester Dethridge. + +"Take her up stairs," he said; "and let her pick which room she +pleases. Give her what she wants to eat or drink. Bring down the +address of the place where her luggage is. The lad here will go +back by railway, and fetch it. That's all. Be off." + +Hester went out. Anne followed her up the stairs. In the passage +on the upper floor she stopped. The dull light flickered again +for a moment in her eyes. She wrote on her slate, and held it up +to Anne, with these words on it: "I knew you would come back. +It's not over yet between you and him." Anne made no reply. She +went on writing, with something faintly like a smile on her thin, +colorless lips. "I know something of bad husbands. Yours is as +bad a one as ever stood in shoes. He'll try you." Anne made an +effort to stop her. "Don't you see how tired I am?" she said, +gently. Hester Dethridge dropped the slate--looked with a steady +and uncompassionate attention in Anne's face--nodded her head, as +much as to say, "I see it now"--and led the way into one of the +empty rooms. + +It was the front bedroom, over the drawing-room. The first glance +round showed it to be scrupulously clean, and solidly and +tastelessly furnished. The hideous paper on the walls, the +hideous carpet on the floor, were both of the best quality. The +great heavy mahogany bedstead, with its curtains hanging from a +hook in the ceiling, and with its clumsily carved head and foot +on the same level, offered to the view the anomalous spectacle of +French design overwhelmed by English execution. The most +noticeable thing in the room was the extraordinary attention +which had been given to the defense of the door. Besides the +usual lock and key, it possessed two solid bolts, fastening +inside at the top and the bottom. It had been one among the many +eccentric sides of Reuben Limbrick's character to live in +perpetual dread of thieves breaking into his cottage at night. +All the outer doors and all the window shutters were solidly +sheathed with iron, and had alarm-bells attached to them on a new +principle. Every one of the bedrooms possessed its two bolts on +the inner side of the door. And, to crown all, on the roof of the +cottage was a little belfry, containing a bell large enough to +make itself heard at the Fulham police station. In Reuben +Limbrick's time the rope had communicated with his bedroom. It +hung now against the wall, in the passage outside. + +Looking from one to the other of the objects around her, Anne's +eyes rested on the partition wall which divided the room from the +room next to it. The wall was not broken by a door of +communication, it had nothing placed against it but a +wash-hand-stand and two chairs. + +"Who sleeps in the next room?" said Anne. + +Hester Dethridge pointed down to the drawing-room in which they +had left Geoffrey, Geoffrey slept in the room. + +Anne led the way out again into the passage. + +"Show me the second room," she said. + +The second room was also in front of the house. More ugliness (of +first-rate quality) in the paper and the carpet. Another heavy +mahogany bedstead; but, this time, a bedstead with a canopy +attached to the head of it--supporting its own curtains. +Anticipating Anne's inquiry, on this occasion, Hester looked +toward the next room, at the back of the cottage, and pointed to +herself. Anne at once decided on choosing the second room; it was +the farthest from Geoffrey. Hester waited while she wrote the +address at which her luggage would be found (at the house of the +musical agent), and then, having applied for, and received her +directions as to the evening meal which she should send up +stairs, quitted the room. + +Left alone, Anne secured the door, and threw herself on the bed. +Still too weary to exert her mind, still physically incapable of +realizing the helplessness and the peril of her position, she +opened a locket that hung from her neck, kissed the portrait of +her mother and the portrait of Blanche placed opposite to each +other inside it, and sank into a deep and dreamless sleep. + +Meanwhile Geoffrey repeated his final orders to the lad, at the +cottage gate. + +"When you have got the luggage, you are to go to the lawyer. If +he can come here to-night, you will show him the way. If he can't +come, you will bring me a letter from him. Make any mistake in +this, and it will be the worst day's work you ever did in your +life. Away with you, and don't lose the train." + +The lad ran off. Geoffrey waited, looking after him, and turning +over in his mind what had been done up to that time. + +"All right, so far," he said to himself. "I didn't ride in the +cab with her. I told her before witnesses I didn't forgive her, +and why I had her in the house. I've put her in a room by +herself. And if I _must_ see her, I see her with Hester Dethridge +for a witness. My part's done--let the lawyer do his." + +He strolled round into the back garden, and lit his pipe. After a +while, as the twilight faded, he saw a light in Hester's +sitting-room on the ground-floor. He went to the window. Hester +and the servant-girl were both there at work. "Well?" he asked. +"How about the woman up stairs?" Hester's slate, aided by the +girl's tongue, told him all about "the woman" that was to be +told. They had taken up to her room tea and an omelet; and they +had been obliged to wake her from a sleep. She had eaten a little +of the omelet, and had drunk eagerly of the tea. They had gone up +again to take the tray down. She had returned to the bed. She was +not asleep--only dull and heavy. Made no remark. Looked clean +worn out. We left her a light; and we let her be. Such was the +report. After listening to it, without making any remark, +Geoffrey filled a second pipe, and resumed his walk. The time +wore on. It began to feel chilly in the garden. The rising wind +swept audibly over the open lands round the cottage; the stars +twinkled their last; nothing was to be seen overhead but the +black void of night. More rain coming. Geoffrey went indoors. + +An evening newspaper was on the dining-room table. The candles +were lit. He sat down, and tried to read. No! There was nothing +in the newspaper that he cared about. The time for hearing from +the lawyer was drawing nearer and nearer. Reading was of no use. +Sitting still was of no use. He got up, and went out in the front +of the cottage--strolled to the gate--opened it--and looked idly +up and down the road. + +But one living creature was visible by the light of the gas-lamp +over the gate. The creature came nearer, and proved to be the +postman going his last round, with the last delivery for the +night. He came up to the gate with a letter in his hand. + +"The Honorable Geoffrey Delamayn?" + +"All right." + +He took the letter from the postman, and went back into the +dining-room. Looking at the address by the light of the candles, +he recognized the handwriting of Mrs. Glenarm. "To congratulate +me on my marriage!" he said to himself, bitterly, and opened the +letter. + +Mrs. Glenarm's congratulations were expressed in these terms: + +MY ADORED GEOFFREY,--I have heard all. My beloved one! my own! +you are sacrificed to the vilest wretch that walks the earth, and +I have lost you! How is it that I live after hearing it? How is +it that I can think, and write, with my brain on fire, and my +heart broken! Oh, my angel, there is a purpose that supports +me--pure, beautiful, worthy of us both. I live, Geoffrey--I live +to dedicate myself to the adored idea of You. My hero! my first, +last, love! I will marry no other man. I will live and die--I vow +it solemnly on my bended knees--I will live and die true to You. +I am your Spiritual Wife. My beloved Geoffrey! _she_ can't come +between us, there--_she_ can never rob you of my heart's +unalterable fidelity, of my soul's unearthly devotion. I am your +Spiritual Wife! Oh, the blameless luxury of writing those words! +Write back to me, beloved one, and say you feel it too. Vow it, +idol of my heart, as I have vowed it. Unalterable fidelity! +unearthly devotion! Never, never will I be the wife of any other +man! Never, never will I forgive the woman who has come between +us! Yours ever and only; yours with the stainless passion that +burns on the altar of the heart; yours, yours, yours--E. G." + +This outbreak of hysterical nonsense--in itself simply +ridiculous--assumed a serious importance in its effect on +Geoffrey. It associated the direct attainment of his own +interests with the gratification of his vengeance on Anne. Ten +thousand a year self-dedicated to him--and nothing to prevent his +putting out his hand and taking it but the woman who had caught +him in her trap, the woman up stairs who had fastened herself on +him for life! + +He put the letter into his pocket. "Wait till I hear from the +lawyer," he said to himself. "The easiest way out of it is _that_ +way. And it's the law." + +He looked impatiently at his watch. As he put it back again in +his pocket there was a ring at the bell. Was it the lad bringing +the luggage? Yes. And, with it, the lawyer's report? No. Better +than that--the lawyer himself. + +"Come in!" cried Geoffrey, meeting his visitor at the door. + +The lawyer entered the dining-room. The candle-light revealed to +view a corpulent, full-lipped, bright-eyed man--with a strain of +negro blood in his yellow face, and with unmistakable traces in +his look and manner of walking habitually in the dirtiest +professional by-ways of the law. + +"I've got a little place of my own in your neighborhood," he +said. "And I thought I would look in myself, Mr. Delamayn, on my +way home." + +"Have you seen the witnesses?" + +"I have examined them both, Sir. First, Mrs. Inchbare and Mr. +Bishopriggs together. Next, Mrs. Inchbare and Mr. Bishopriggs +separately." + +"Well?" + +"Well, Sir, the result is unfavorable, I am sorry to say." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Neither the one nor the other of them, Mr. Delamayn, can give +the evidence we want. I have made sure of that." + +"Made sure of that? You have made an infernal mess of it! You +don't understand the case!" + +The mulatto lawyer smiled. The rudeness of his client appeared +only to amuse him. + +"Don't I?" he said. "Suppose you tell me where I am wrong about +it? Here it is in outline only. On the fourteenth of August last +your wife was at an inn in Scotland. A gentleman named Arnold +Brinkworth joined her there. He represented himself to be her +husband, and he staid with her till the next morning. Starting +from those facts, the object you have in view is to sue for a +Divorce from your wife. You make Mr. Arnold Brinkworth the +co-respondent. And you produce in evidence the waiter and the +landlady of the inn. Any thing wrong, Sir, so far?" + +Nothing wrong. At one cowardly stroke to cast Anne disgraced on +the world, and to set himself free--there, plainly and truly +stated, was the scheme which he had devised, when he had turned +back on the way to Fulham to consult Mr. Moy. + +"So much for the case," resumed the lawyer. "Now for what I have +done on receiving your instructions. I have examined the +witnesses; and I have had an interview (not a very pleasant one) +with Mr. Moy. The result of those two proceedings is briefly +this. First discovery: In assuming the character of the lady's +husband Mr. Brinkworth was acting under your directions--which +tells dead against _you._ Second discovery: Not the slightest +impropriety of conduct, not an approach even to harmless +familiarity, was detected by either of the witnesses, while the +lady and gentleman were together at the inn. There is literally +no evidence to produce against them, except that they _were_ +together--in two rooms. How are you to assume a guilty purpose, +when you can't prove an approach to a guilty act? You can no more +take such a case as that into Court than you can jump over the +roof of this cottage." + +He looked hard at his client, expecting to receive a violent +reply. His client agreeably disappointed him. A very strange +impression appeared to have been produced on th is reckless and +headstrong man. He got up quietly; he spoke with perfect outward +composure of face and manner when he said his next words. + +"Have you given up the case?" + +"As things are at present, Mr. Delamayn, there is no case." + +"And no hope of my getting divorced from her?" + +"Wait a moment. Have your wife and Mr. Brinkworth met nowhere +since they were together at the Scotch inn?" + +"Nowhere." + +"As to the future, of course I can't say. As to the past, there +is no hope of your getting divorced from her." + +"Thank you. Good-night." + +"Good-night, Mr. Delamayn." + + + +Fastened to her for life--and the law powerless to cut the knot. + +He pondered over that result until he had thoroughly realized it +and fixed it in his mind. Then he took out Mrs. Glenarm's letter, +and read it through again, attentively, from beginning to end. + +Nothing could shake her devotion to him. Nothing would induce her +to marry another man. There she was--in her own words--dedicated +to him: waiting, with her fortune at her own disposal, to be his +wife. There also was his father, waiting (so far as _he_ knew, in +the absence of any tidings from Holchester House) to welcome Mrs. +Glenarm as a daughter-in-law, and to give Mrs. Glenarm's husband +an income of his own. As fair a prospect, on all sides, as man +could desire. And nothing in the way of it but the woman who had +caught him in her trap--the woman up stairs who had fastened +herself on him for life. + +He went out in the garden in the darkness of the night. + +There was open communication, on all sides, between the back +garden and the front. He walked round and round the cottage--now +appearing in a stream of light from a window; now disappearing +again in the darkness. The wind blew refreshingly over his bare +head. For some minutes he went round and round, faster and +faster, without a pause. When he stopped at last, it was in front +of the cottage. He lifted his head slowly, and looked up at the +dim light in the window of Anne's room. + +"How?" he said to himself. "That's the question. How?" + +He went indoors again, and rang the bell. The servant-girl who +answered it started back at the sight of him. His florid color +was all gone. His eyes looked at her without appearing to see +her. The perspiration was standing on his forehead in great heavy +drops. + +"Are you ill, Sir?" said the girl. + +He told her, with an oath, to hold her tongue and bring the +brandy. When she entered the room for the second time, he was +standing with his back to her, looking out at the night. He never +moved when she put the bottle on the table. She heard him +muttering as if he was talking to himself. + +The same difficulty which had been present to his mind in secret +under Anne's window was present to his mind still. + +How? That was the problem to solve. How? + +He turned to the brandy, and took counsel of that. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTIETH. + +THE MORNING. + +WHEN does the vain regret find its keenest sting? When is the +doubtful future blackened by its darkest cloud? When is life +least worth having. and death oftenest at the bedside? In the +terrible morning hours, when the sun is rising in its glory, and +the birds are singing in the stillness of the new-born day. + +Anne woke in the strange bed, and looked round her, by the light +of the new morning, at the strange room. + +The rain had all fallen in the night. The sun was master in the +clear autumn sky. She rose, and opened the window. The fresh +morning air, keen and fragrant, filled the room. Far and near, +the same bright stillness possessed the view. She stood at the +window looking out. Her mind was clear again--she could think, +she could feel; she could face the one last question which the +merciless morning now forced on her--How will it end? + +Was there any hope?--hope for instance, in what she might do for +herself. What can a married woman do for herself? She can make +her misery public--provided it be misery of a certain kind--and +can reckon single-handed with Society when she has done it. +Nothing more. + +Was there hope in what others might do for her? Blanche might +write to her--might even come and see her--if her husband allowed +it; and that was all. Sir Patrick had pressed her hand at +parting, and had told her to rely on him. He was the firmest, the +truest of friends. But what could he do? There were outrages +which her husband was privileged to commit, under the sanction of +marriage, at the bare thought of which her blood ran cold. Could +Sir Patrick protect her? Absurd! Law and Society armed her +husband with his conjugal rights. Law and Society had but one +answer to give, if she appealed to them--You are his wife. + +No hope in herself; no hope in her friends; no hope any where on +earth. Nothing to be done but to wait for the end--with faith in +the Divine Mercy; with faith in the better world. + +She took out of her trunk a little book of Prayers and +Meditations--worn with much use--which had once belonged to her +mother. She sat by the window reading it. Now and then she looked +up from it--thinking. The parallel between her mother's position +and her own position was now complete. Both married to husbands +who hated them; to husbands whose interests pointed to mercenary +alliances with other women; to husbands whose one want and one +purpose was to be free from their wives. Strange, what different +ways had led mother and daughter both to the same fate! Would the +parallel hold to the end? "Shall I die," she wondered, thinking +of her mother's last moments, "in Blanche's arms?" + + + +The time had passed unheeded. The morning movement in the house +had failed to catch her ear. She was first called out of herself +to the sense of the present and passing events by the voice of +the servant-girl outside the door. + +"The master wants you, ma'am, down stairs." + +She rose instantly and put away the little book. + +"Is that all the message?" she asked, opening the door. + +"Yes, ma'am." + +She followed the girl down stairs; recalling to her memory the +strange words addressed to her by Geoffrey, in the presence of +the servants, on the evening before. Was she now to know what +those words really meant? The doubt would soon be set at rest. +"Be the trial what it may," she thought to herself, "let me bear +it as my mother would have borne it." + +The servant opened the door of the dining-room. Breakfast was on +the table. Geoffrey was standing at the window. Hester Dethridge +was waiting, posted near the door. He came forward--with the +nearest approach to gentleness in his manner which she had ever +yet seen in it--he came forward, with a set smile on his lips, +and offered her his hand! + +She had entered the room, prepared (as she believed) for any +thing that could happen. She was not prepared for this. She stood +speechless, looking at him. + +After one glance at her, when she came in, Hester Dethridge +looked at him, too--and from that moment never looked away again, +as long as Anne remained in the room. + +He broke the silence--in a voice that was not like his own; with +a furtive restraint in his manner which she had never noticed in +it before. + +"Won't you shake hands with your husband," he asked, "when your +husband asks you?" + +She mechanically put her hand in his. He dropped it instantly, +with a start. "God! how cold!" he exclaimed. His own hand was +burning hot, and shook incessantly. + +He pointed to a chair at the head of the table. + +"Will you make the tea?" he asked. + +She had given him her hand mechanically; she advanced a step +mechanically--and then stopped. + +"Would you prefer breakfasting by yourself?" he said. + +"If you please," she answered, faintly. + +"Wait a minute. I have something to say before you go." + +She waited. He considered with himself; consulting his +memory--visibly, unmistakably, consulting it before he spoke +again. + +"I have had the night to think in," he said. "The night has made +a new man of me. I beg your pardon for what I said yesterday. I +was not myself yesterday. I talked nonsense yesterday. Please to +forget it, and forgive it. I wish to turn over a new leaf. and +make amends--make amends for my past conduct. It shall be my +endeavor to be a good husband. In the presence of Mrs. Dethridge, +I request you to give me a chance. I won't force your inclinati +ons. We are married--what's the use of regretting it? Stay here, +as you said yesterday, on your own terms. I wish to make it up. +In the presence of Mrs. Dethridge, I say I wish to make it up. I +won't detain you. I request you to think of it. Good-morning." + +He said those extraordinary words like a slow boy saying a hard +lesson--his eyes on the ground, his fingers restlessly fastening +and unfastening a button on his waistcoat. + +Anne left the room. In the passage she was obliged to wait, and +support herself against the wall. His unnatural politeness was +horrible; his carefully asserted repentance chilled her to the +soul with dread. She had never felt--in the time of his fiercest +anger and his foulest language--the unutterable horror of him +that she felt now. + +Hester Dethridge came out, closing the door behind her. She +looked attentively at Anne--then wrote on her slate, and held it +out, with these words on it: + +"Do you believe him?" + +Anne pushed the slate away, and ran up stairs. She fastened the +door--and sank into a chair. + +"He is plotting something against me," she said to herself. +"What?" + +A sickening, physical sense of dread--entirely new in her +experience of herself--made her shrink from pursuing the +question. The sinking at her heart turned her faint. She went to +get the air at the open window. + +At the same moment there was a ring at the gate bell. Suspicious +of any thing and every thing. she felt a sudden distrust of +letting herself be seen. She drew back behind the curtain and +looked out. + +A man-servant, in livery, was let in. He had a letter in his +hand. He said to the girl as he passed Anne's window, "I come +from Lady Holchester; I must see Mr. Delamayn instantly." + +They went in. There was an interval. The footman reappeared, +leaving the place. There was another interval. Then there came a +knock at the door. Anne hesitated. The knock was repeated, and +the dumb murmuring of Hester Dethridge was heard outside. Anne +opened the door. + +Hester came in with the breakfast. She pointed to a letter among +other things on the tray. It was addressed to Anne, in Geoffrey's +handwriting, and it contained these words: + +"My father died yesterday. Write your orders for your mourning. +The boy will take them. You are not to trouble yourself to go to +London. Somebody is to come here to you from the shop." + +Anne dropped the paper on her lap without looking up. At the same +moment Hester Dethridge's slate was passed stealthily between her +eyes and the note--with these words traced on it. "His mother is +coming to-day. His brother has been telegraphed from Scotland. He +was drunk last night. He's drinking again. I know what that +means. Look out, missus--look out." + +Anne signed to her to leave the room. She went out, pulling the +door to, but not closing it behind her. + +There was another ring at the gate bell. Once more Anne went to +the window. Only the lad, this time; arriving to take his orders +for the day. He had barely entered the garden when he was +followed by the postman with letters. In a minute more Geoffrey's +voice was heard in the passage, and Geoffrey's heavy step +ascended the wooden stairs. Anne hurried across the room to draw +the bolts. Geoffrey met her before she could close the door. + +"A letter for you," he said, keeping scrupulously out of the +room. "I don't wish to force your inclinations--I only request +you to tell me who it's from." + +His manner was as carefully subdued as ever. But the +unacknowledged distrust in him (when he looked at her) betrayed +itself in his eye. + +She glanced at the handwriting on the address. + +"From Blanche," she answered. + +He softly put his foot between the door and the post--and waited +until she had opened and read Blanche's letter. + +"May I see it?" he asked--and put in his hand for it through the +door. + +The spirit in Anne which would once have resisted him was dead in +her now. She handed him the open letter. + +It was very short. Excepting some brief expressions of fondness, +it was studiously confined to stating the purpose for which it +had been written. Blanche proposed to visit Anne that afternoon, +accompanied by her uncle, she sent word beforehand, to make sure +of finding Anne at home. That was all. The letter had evidently +been written under Sir Patrick's advice. + +Geoffrey handed it back, after first waiting a moment to think. + +"My father died yesterday," he said. "My wife can't receive +visitors before he is buried. I don't wish to force your +inclinations. I only say I can't let visitors in here before the +funeral--except my own family. Send a note down stairs. The lad +will take it to your friend when he goes to London." With those +words he left + +An appeal to the proprieties of life, in the mouth of Geoffrey +Delamayn, could only mean one of two things. Either he had spoken +in brutal mockery--or he had spoken with some ulterior object in +view. Had he seized on the event of his father's death as a +pretext for isolating his wife from all communication with the +outer world? Were there reasons, which had not yet asserted +themselves, for his dreading the result, if he allowed Anne to +communicate with her friends? + +The hour wore on, and Hester Dethridge appeared again. The lad +was waiting for Anne's orders for her mourning, and for her note +to Mrs. Arnold Brinkworth. + +Anne wrote the orders and the note. Once more the horrible slate +appeared when she had done, between the writing paper and her +eyes, with the hard lines of warning pitilessly traced on it. " +He has locked the gate. When there's a ring we are to come to him +for the key. He has written to a woman. Name outside the letter, +Mrs. Glenarm. He has had more brandy. Like my husband. Mind +yourself." + +The one way out of the high walls all round the cottage locked. +Friends forbidden to see her. Solitary imprisonment, with her +husband for a jailer. Before she had been four-and-twenty hours +in the cottage it had come to that. And what was to follow? + +She went back mechanically to the window. The sight of the outer +world, the occasional view of a passing vehicle, helped to +sustain her. + +The lad appeared in the front garden departing to perform his +errand to London. Geoffrey went with him to open the gate, and +called after him, as he passed through it, "Don't forget the +books!" + +The "books?" What "books?" Who wanted them? The slightest thing +now roused Anne's suspicion. For hours afterward the books +haunted her mind. + +He secured the gate and came back again. He stopped under Anne's +window and called to her. She showed herself. "When you want air +and exercise," he said, "the back garden is at your own +disposal." He put the key of the gate in his pocket and returned +to the house. + +After some hesitation Anne decided on taking him at his word. In +her state of suspense, to remain within the four walls of the +bedroom was unendurable. If some lurking snare lay hid under the +fair-sounding proposal which Geoffrey had made, it was less +repellent to her boldly to prove what it might be than to wait +pondering over it with her mind in the dark. She put on her hat +and went down into the garden. Nothing happened out of the +common. Wherever he was he never showed himself. She wandered up +and down, keeping on the side of the garden which was farthest +from the dining-room window. To a woman, escape from the place +was simply impossible. Setting out of the question the height of +the walls, they were armed at the top with a thick setting of +jagged broken glass. A small back-door in the end wall (intended +probably for the gardener's use) was bolted and locked--the key +having been taken out. There was not a house near. The lands of +the local growers of vegetables surrounded the garden on all +sides. In the nineteenth century, and in the immediate +neighborhood of a great metropolis, Anne was as absolutely +isolated from all contact with the humanity around her as if she +lay in her grave. + +After the lapse of half an hour the silence was broken by a noise +of carriage wheels on the public road in front, and a ring at the +bell. Anne kept close to the cottage, at the back; determined, if +a chance offered, on speaking to the visitor, whoever the visitor +might be. + +She heard voices in the dining-room th rough the open +window--Geoffrey's voice and the voice of a woman. Who was the +woman? Not Mrs. Glenarm, surely? After a while the visitor's +voice was suddenly raised. "Where is she?" it said. "I wish to +see her." Anne instantly advanced to the back-door of the +house--and found herself face to face with a lady who was a total +stranger to her. + +"Are you my son's wife?" asked the lady. + +"I am your son's prisoner," Anne answered. + +Lady Holchester's pale face turned paler still. It was plain that +Anne's reply had confirmed some doubt in the mother s mind which +had been already suggested to it by the son. + +"What do you mean?" she asked, in a whisper. + +Geoffrey's heavy footsteps crossed the dining-room. There was no +time to explain. Anne whispered back, + +"Tell my friends what I have told you." + +Geoffrey appeared at the dining-room door. + +"Name one of your friends," said Lady Holchester. + +"Sir Patrick Lundie." + +Geoffrey heard the answer. "What about Sir Patrick Lundie?" he +asked. + +"I wish to see Sir Patrick Lundie," said his mother. "And your +wife can tell me where to find him." + +Anne instantly understood that Lady Holchester would communicate +with Sir Patrick. She mentioned his London address. Lady +Holchester turned to leave the cottage. Her son stopped her. + +"Let's set things straight," he said, "before you go. My mother," +he went on, addressing himself to Anne, "don't think there's much +chance for us two of living comfortably together. Bear witness to +the truth--will you? What did I tell you at breakfast-time? +Didn't I say it should be my endeavor to make you a good husband? +Didn't I say--in Mrs. Dethridge's presence--I wanted to make it +up?" He waited until Anne had answered in the affirmative, and +then appealed to his mother. "Well? what do you think now?" + +Lady Holchester declined to reveal what she thought. "You shall +see me, or hear from me, this evening," she said to Anne. +Geoffrey attempted to repeat his unanswered question. His mother +looked at him. His eyes instantly dropped before hers. She +gravely bent her head to Anne, and drew her veil. Her son +followed her out in silence to the gate. + +Anne returned to her room, sustained by the first sense of relief +which she had felt since the morning. "His mother is alarmed," +she said to herself. "A change will come." + +A change _was_ to come--with the coming night. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FIRST. + +THE PROPOSAL. + +TOWARD sunset, Lady Holchester's carriage drew up before the gate +of the cottage. + +Three persons occupied the carriage: Lady Holchester, her eldest +son (now Lord Holchester), and Sir Patrick Lundie. + +"Will you wait in the carriage, Sir Patrick ?" said Julius. " Or +will you come in?" + +"I will wait. If I can be of the least use to _her,_, send for me +instantly. In the mean time don't forget to make the stipulation +which I have suggested. It is the one certain way of putting your +brother's real feeling in this matter to the test." + +The servant had rung the bell without producing any result. He +rang again. Lady Holchester put a question to Sir Patrick. + +"If I have an opportunity of speaking to my son's wife alone," +she said, "have you any message to give?" + +Sir Patrick produced a little note. + +"May I appeal to your ladyship's kindness to give her this?" The +gate was opened by the servant-girl, as Lady Holchester took the +note. "Remember," reiterated Sir Patrick, earnestly "if I can be +of the smallest service to her--don't think of my position with +Mr. Delamayn. Send for me at once." + +Julius and his mother were conducted into the drawing-room. The +girl informed them that her master had gone up stairs to lie +down, and that he would be with them immediately. + +Both mother and son were too anxious to speak. Julius wandered +uneasily about the room. Some books attracted his notice on a +table in the corner--four dirty, greasy volumes, with a slip of +paper projecting from the leaves of one of them, and containing +this inscription, "With Mr. Perry's respects." Julius opened the +volume. It was the ghastly popular record of Criminal Trials in +England, called the Newgate Calendar. Julius showed it to his +mother. + +"Geoffrey's taste in literature!" he said, with a faint smile. + +Lady Holchester signed to him to put the book back. + +"You have seen Geoffrey's wife already--have you not?" she asked. + +There was no contempt now in her tone when she referred to Anne. +The impression produced on her by her visit to the cottage, +earlier in the day, associated Geoffrey's wife with family +anxieties of no trivial kind. She might still (for Mrs. Glenarm's +sake) be a woman to be disliked--but she was no longer a woman to +be despised. + +"I saw her when she came to Swanhaven," said Julius. "I agree +with Sir Patrick in thinking her a very interesting person." + +"What did Sir Patrick say to you about Geoffrey this +afternoon--while I was out of the room?" + +"Only what he said to _you._ He thought their position toward +each other here a very deplorable one. He considered that the +reasons were serious for our interfering immediately." + +"Sir Patrick's own opinion, Julius, goes farther than that." + +"He has not acknowledged it, that I know of. " + +"How _can_ he acknowledge it--to us?" + +The door opened, and Geoffrey entered the room. + +Julius eyed him closely as they shook hands. His eyes were +bloodshot; his face was flushed; his utterance was thick--the +look of him was the look of a man who had been drinking hard. + +"Well?" he said to his mother. "What brings you back?" + +"Julius has a proposal to make to you," Lady Holchester answered. +"I approve of it; and I have come with him." + +Geoffrey turned to his brother. + +"What can a rich man like you want with a poor devil like me?" he +asked. + +"I want to do you justice, Geoffrey--if you will help me, by +meeting me half-way. Our mother has told you about the will?" + +"I'm not down for a half-penny in the will. I expected as much. +Go on." + +"You are wrong--you _are_ down in it. There is liberal provision +made for you in a codicil. Unhappily, my father died without +signing it. It is needless to say that I consider it binding on +me for all that. I am ready to do for you what your father would +have done for you. And I only ask for one concession in return." + +"What may that be?" + +"You are living here very unhappily, Geoffrey, with your wife." + +"Who says so? I don't, for one." + +Julius laid his hand kindly on his brother's arm. + +"Don't trifle with such a serious matter as this," he said. "Your +marriage is, in every sense of the word, a misfortune--not only +to you but to your wife. It is impossible that you can live +together. I have come here to ask you to consent to a separation. +Do that--and the provision made for you in the unsigned codicil +is yours. What do you say?" + +Geoffrey shook his brother's hand off his arm. + +"I say--No!" he answered. + +Lady Holchester interfered for the first time. + +"Your brother's generous offer deserves a better answer than +that," she said. + +"My answer," reiterated Geoffrey, "is--No!" + +He sat between them with his clenched fists resting on his +knees--absolutely impenetrable to any thing that either of them +could say. + +"In your situation," said Julius, "a refusal is sheer madness. I +won't accept it." + +"Do as you like about that. My mind's made up. I won't let my +wife be taken away from me. Here she stays." + +The brutal tone in which he had made that reply roused Lady +Holchester's indignation. + +"Take care!" she said. "You are not only behaving with the +grossest ingratitude toward your brother--you are forcing a +suspicion into your mother's mind. You have some motive that you +are hiding from us." + +He turned on his mother with a sudden ferocity which made Julius +spring to his feet. The next instant his eyes were on the ground, +and the devil that possessed him was quiet again. + +"Some motive I'm hiding from you?" he repeated, with his head +down, and his utterance thicker than ever. "I'm ready to have my +motive posted all over London, if you like. I'm fond of her." + +He looked up as he said the last words. Lady Holchester turned +away her head--recoiling from her own son. So overwhelming was +the shock inflicted on her that even the strongly rooted +prejudice which Mrs. Glenarm had implanted in her mind yielded to +it. At that moment she absolutely pitied Anne! + +"Poor creature!" said Lady Holchester. + +He took instant offense at those two words. "I won't have my wife +pitied by any body." With that reply, he dashed into the passage; +and called out, "Anne! come down!" + +Her soft voice answered; her light footfall was heard on the +stairs. She came into the room. Julius advanced, took her hand, +and held it kindly in his. "We are having a little family +discussion," he said, trying to give her confidence. "And +Geoffrey is getting hot over it, as usual." + +Geoffrey appealed sternly to his mother. + +"Look at her!" he said. "Is she starved? Is she in rags? Is she +covered with bruises?" He turned to Anne. "They have come here to +propose a separation. They both believe I hate you. I don't hate +you. I'm a good Christian. I owe it to you that I'm cut out of my +father's will. I forgive you that. I owe it to you that I've lost +the chance of marrying a woman with ten thousand a year. I +forgive you _that._ I'm not a man who does things by halves. I +said it should be my endeavor to make you a good husband. I said +it was my wish to make it up. Well! I am as good as my word. And +what's the consequence? I am insulted. My mother comes here, and +my brother comes here--and they offer me money to part from you. +Money be hanged! I'll be beholden to nobody. I'll get my own +living. Shame on the people who interfere between man and wife! +Shame!--that's what I say--shame!" + +Anne looked, for an explanation, from her husband to her +husband's mother. + +"Have you proposed a separation between us?" she asked. + +"Yes--on terms of the utmost advantage to my son; arranged with +every possible consideration toward you. Is there any objection +on your side?" + +"Oh, Lady Holchester! is it necessary to ask me? What does he +say?" + +"He has refused." + +"Refused!" + +"Yes," said Geoffrey. "I don't go back from my word; I stick to +what I said this morning. It's my endeavor to make you a good +husband. It's my wish to make it up." He paused, and then added +his last reason: "I'm fond of you." + +Their eyes met as he said it to her. Julius felt Anne's hand +suddenly tighten round his. The desperate grasp of the frail cold +fingers, the imploring terror in the gentle sensitive face as it +slowly turned his way, said to him as if in words, "Don't leave +me friendless to-night!" + +"If you both stop here till domesday," said Geoffrey, "you'll get +nothing more out of me. You have had my reply." + +With that, he seated himself doggedly in a corner of the room; +waiting--ostentatiously waiting--for his mother and his brother +to take their leave. The position was serious. To argue the +matter with him that night was hopeless. To invite Sir Patrick's +interference would only be to provoke his savage temper to a new +outbreak. On the other hand, to leave the helpless woman, after +what had passed, without another effort to befriend her, was, in +her situation, an act of downright inhumanity, and nothing less. +Julius took the one way out of the difficulty that was left--the +one way worthy of him as a compassionate and an honorable man. + +"We will drop it for to-night, Geoffrey," he said. "But I am not +the less resolved, in spite of all that you have said, to return +to the subject to-morrow. It would save me some inconvenience--a +second journey here from town, and then going back again to my +engagements--if I staid with you to-night. Can you give me a +bed?" + +A look flashed on him from Anne, which thanked him as no words +could have thanked him. + +"Give you a bed?" repeated Geoffrey. He checked himself, on the +point of refusing. His mother was watching him; his wife was +watching him--and his wife knew that the room above them was a +room to spare. "All right!" he resumed, in another tone, with his +eye on his mother. "There's my empty room up stairs. Have it, if +you like. You won't find I've changed my mind to-morrow--but +that's your look-out. Stop here, if the fancy takes you. I've no +objection. It don't matter to Me.--Will you trust his lordship +under my roof?" he added, addressing his mother. "I might have +some motive that I'm hiding from you, you know!" Without waiting +for an answer, he turned to Anne. "Go and tell old Dummy to put +the sheets on the bed. Say there's a live lord in the +house--she's to send in something devilish good for supper!" He +burst fiercely into a forced laugh. Lady Holchester rose at the +moment when Anne was leaving the room. "I shall not be here when +you return," she said. "Let me bid you good-night." + +She shook hands with Anne--giving her Sir Patrick's note, unseen, +at the same moment. Anne left the room. Without addressing +another word to her second son, Lady Holchester beckoned to +Julius to give her his arm. "You have acted nobly toward your +brother," she said to him. "My one comfort and my one hope, +Julius, are in you." They went out together to the gate, Geoffrey +following them with the key in his hand. "Don't be too anxious," +Julius whispered to his mother. "I will keep the drink out of his +way to-night--and I will bring you a better account of him +to-morrow. Explain every thing to Sir Patrick as you go home." + +He handed Lady Holchester into the carriage; and re-entered, +leaving Geoffrey to lock the gate. The brothers returned in +silence to the cottage. Julius had concealed it from his +mother--but he was seriously uneasy in secret. Naturally prone to +look at all things on their brighter side, he could place no +hopeful interpretation on what Geoffrey had said and done that +night. The conviction that he was deliberately acting a part, in +his present relations with his wife, for some abominable purpose +of his own, had rooted itself firmly in Julius. For the first +time in his experience of his brother, the pecuniary +consideration was not the uppermost consideration in Geoffrey's +mind. They went back into the drawing-room. "What will you have +to drink?" said Geoffrey. + +"Nothing." + +"You won't keep me company over a drop of brandy-and-water?" + +"No. You have had enough brandy-and-water." + +After a moment of frowning self-consideration in the glass, +Geoffrey abruptly agreed with Julius "I look like it," he said. +"I'll soon put that right." He disappeared, and returned with a +wet towel tied round his head. "What will you do while the women +are getting your bed ready? Liberty Hall here. I've taken to +cultivating my mind---I'm a reformed character, you know, now I'm +a married man. You do what you like. I shall read." + +He turned to the side-table, and, producing the volumes of the +Newgate Calendar, gave one to his brother. Julius handed it back +again. + +"You won't cultivate your mind," he said, "with such a book as +that. Vile actions recorded in vile English, make vile reading, +Geoffrey, in every sense of the word." + +"It will do for me. I don't know good English when I see it." + +With that frank acknowledgment--to which the great majority of +his companions at school and college might have subscribed +without doing the slightest injustice to the present state of +English education--Geoffrey drew his chair to the table, and +opened one of the volumes of his record of crime. + +The evening newspaper was lying on the sofa. Julius took it up, +and seated himself opposite to his brother. He noticed, with some +surprise, that Geoffrey appeared to have a special object in +consulting his book. Instead of beginning at the first page, he +ran the leaves through his fingers, and turned them down at +certain places, before he entered on his reading. If Julius had +looked over his brother's shoulder, instead of only looking at +him across the table, he would have seen that Geoffrey passed by +all the lighter crimes reported in the Calendar, and marked for +his own private reading the cases of murder only. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SECOND. + +THE APPARITION. + +THE night had advanced. It was close on twelve o'clock when Anne +heard the servant's voice, outside her bedroom door, asking leave +to speak with her for a moment. + +"What is it?" + +"The gentleman down stairs wishes to see you, ma'am." + +"Do you mean Mr. Delamayn's brother?" + +"Yes." + +"Where is Mr. Delamayn?" + +"Out in the garden, ma'am." + +Anne went down stairs, and found Julius alone in + the drawing-room. + +"I am sorry to disturb you," he said. "I am afraid Geoffrey is +ill. The landlady has gone to bed, I am told--and I don't know +where to apply for medical assistance. Do you know of any doctor +in the neighborhood?" + +Anne, like Julius, was a perfect stranger to the neighborhood. +She suggested making inquiry of the servant. On speaking to the +girl, it turned out that she knew of a medical man, living within +ten minutes' walk of the cottage. She could give plain directions +enabling any person to find the place--but she was afraid, at +that hour of the night and in that lonely neighborhood, to go out +by herself. + +"Is he seriously ill?" Anne asked. + +"He is in such a state of nervous irritability," said Julius, +"that he can't remain still for two moments together in the same +place. It began with incessant restlessness while he was reading +here. I persuaded him to go to bed. He couldn't lie still for an +instant--he came down again, burning with fever, and more +restless than ever. He is out in the garden in spite of every +thing I could do to prevent him; trying, as he says, to 'run it +off.' It appears to be serious to _me._. Come and judge for +yourself." + +He led Anne into the next room; and, opening the shutter, pointed +to the garden. + +The clouds had cleared off; the night was fine. The clear +starlight showed Geoffrey, stripped to his shirt and drawers, +running round and round the garden. He apparently believed +himself to be contending at the Fulham foot-race. At times, as +the white figure circled round and round in the star-light, they +heard him cheering for "the South." The slackening thump of his +feet on the ground, the heavier and heavier gasps in which he +drew his breath, as he passed the window, gave warning that his +strength was failing him. Exhaustion, if it led to no worse +consequences, would force him to return to the house. In the +state of his brain at that moment who could say what the result +might be, if medical help was not called in? + +"I will go for the doctor," said Julius, "if you don't mind my +leaving you." + +It was impossible for Anne to set any apprehensions of her own +against the plain necessity for summoning assistance. They found +the key of the gate in the pocket of Geoffrey's coat up stairs. +Anne went with Julius to let him out. "How can I thank you!" she +said, gratefully. "What should I have done without _you!_" + +"I won't be a moment longer than I can help," he answered, and +left her. + +She secured the gate again, and went back to the cottage. The +servant met her at the door, and proposed calling up Hester +Dethridge. + +"We don't know what the master may do while his brother's away," +said the girl. "And one more of us isn't one too many, when we +are only women in the house." + +"You are quite right," said Anne. "Wake your mistress." + +After ascending the stairs, they looked out into the garden, +through the window at the end of the passage on the upper floor. +He was still going round and round, but very slowly: his pace was +fast slackening to a walk. + +Anne went back to her room, and waited near the open door--ready +to close and fasten it instantly if any thing occurred to alarm +her. "How changed I am!" she thought to herself. "Every thing +frightens me, now." + +The inference was the natural one--but not the true one. The +change was not in herself, but in the situation in which she was +placed. Her position during the investigation at Lady Lundie's +house had tried her moral courage only. It had exacted from her +one of those noble efforts of self-sacrifice which the hidden +forces in a woman's nature are essentially capable of making. Her +position at the cottage tried her physical courage: it called on +her to rise superior to the sense of actual bodily danger--while +that danger was lurking in the dark. There, the woman's nature +sank under the stress laid on it--there, her courage could strike +no root in the strength of her love--there, the animal instincts +were the instincts appealed to; and the firmness wanted was the +firmness of a man. + +Hester Dethridge's door opened. She walked straight into Anne's +room. + +The yellow clay-cold color of her face showed a faint flush of +warmth; its deathlike stillness was stirred by a touch of life. +The stony eyes, fixed as ever in their gaze, shone strangely with +a dim inner lustre. Her gray hair, so neatly arranged at other +times, was in disorder under her cap. All her movements were +quicker than usual. Something had roused the stagnant vitality in +the woman--it was working in her mind; it was forcing itself +outward into her face. The servants at Windygates, in past times, +had seen these signs, and had known them for a warning to leave +Hester Dethridge to herself. + +Anne asked her if she had heard what had happened. + +She bowed her head. + +"I hope you don't mind being disturbed?" + +She wrote on her slate: "I'm glad to be disturbed. I have been +dreaming bad dreams. It's good for me to be wakened, when sleep +takes me backward in my life. What's wrong with you? Frightened?" + +"Yes." + +She wrote again, and pointed toward the garden with one hand, +while she held the slate up with the other: "Frightened of +_him?_" + +"Terribly frightened." + +She wrote for the third time, and offered the slate to Anne with +a ghastly smile: "I have been through it all. I know. You're only +at the beginning now. He'll put the wrinkles in your face, and +the gray in your hair. There will come a time when you'll wish +yourself dead and buried. You will live through it, for all that. +Look at Me." + +As she read the last three words, Anne heard the garden door +below opened and banged to again. She caught Hester Dethridge by +the arm, and listened. The tramp of Geoffrey's feet, staggering +heavily in the passage, gave token of his approach to the stairs. +He was talking to himself, still possessed by the delusion that +he was at the foot-race. "Five to four on Delamayn. Delamayn's +won. Three cheers for the South, and one cheer more. Devilish +long race. Night already! Perry! where's Perry?" + +He advanced, staggering from side to side of the passage. The +stairs below creaked as he set his foot on them. Hester Dethridge +dragged herself free from Anne, advanced, with her candle in her +hand, and threw open Geoffrey's bedroom door; returned to the +head of the stairs; and stood there, firm as a rock, waiting for +him. He looked up, as he set his foot on the next stair, and met +the view of Hester's face, brightly illuminated by the candle, +looking down at him. On the instant he stopped, rooted to the +place on which he stood. "Ghost! witch! devil!" he cried out, +"take your eyes off me!" He shook his fist at her furiously, with +an oath--sprang back into the hall--and shut himself into the +dining-room from the sight of her. The panic which had seized him +once already in the kitchen-garden at Windygates, under the eyes +of the dumb cook, had fastened its hold on him once more. +Frightened--absolutely frightened--of Hester Dethridge! + +The gate bell rang. Julius had returned with the doctor. + +Anne gave the key to the girl to let them in. Hester wrote on her +slate, as composedly as if nothing had happened: "They'll find me +in the kitchen, if they want me. I sha'n't go back to my bedroom. +My bedroom's full of bad dreams." She descended the stairs. Anne +waited in the upper passage, looking over into the hall below. +"Your brother is in the drawing-room," she called down to Julius. +"The landlady is in the kitchen, if you want her." She returned +to her room, and waited for what might happen next. + +After a brief interval she heard the drawing-room door open, and +the voices of the men out side. There seemed to be some +difficulty in persuading Geoffrey to ascend the stairs; he +persisted in declaring that Hester Dethridge was waiting for him +at the top of them. After a little they persuaded him that the +way was free. Anne heard them ascend the stairs and close his +bedroom door. + +Another and a longer interval passed before the door opened +again. The doctor was going away. He said his parting words to +Julius in the passage. "Look in at him from time to time through +the night, and give him another dose of the sedative mixture if +he wakes. There is nothing to b e alarmed about in the +restlessness and the fever. They are only the outward +manifestations of some serious mischief hidden under them. Send +for the medical man who has last attended him. Knowledge of the +patient's constitution is very important knowledge in this case." + +As Julius returned from letting the doctor out, Anne met him in +the hall. She was at once struck by the worn look in his face, +and by the fatigue which expressed itself in all his movements. + +"You want rest," she said. "Pray go to your room. I have heard +what the doctor said to you. Leave it to the landlady and to me +to sit up." + +Julius owned that he had been traveling from Scotland during the +previous night. But he was unwilling to abandon the +responsibility of watching his brother. "You are not strong +enough, I am sure, to take my place," he said, kindly. "And +Geoffrey has some unreasoning horror of the landlady which makes +it very undesirable that he should see her again, in his present +state. I will go up to my room, and rest on the bed. If you hear +any thing you have only to come and call me." + +An hour more passed. + +Anne went to Geoffrey's door and listened. He was stirring in his +bed, and muttering to himself. She went on to the door of the +next room, which Julius had left partly open. Fatigue had +overpowered him; she heard, within, the quiet breathing of a man +in a sound sleep. Anne turned back again resolved not to disturb +him. + +At the head of the stairs she hesitated--not knowing what to do. +Her horror of entering Geoffrey's room, by herself, was +insurmountable. But who else was to do it? "The girl had gone to +bed. The reason which Julius had given for not employing the +assistance of Hester Dethridge was unanswerable. She listened +again at Geoffrey's door. No sound was now audible in the room to +a person in the passage outside. Would it be well to look in, and +make sure that he had only fallen asleep again? She hesitated +once more--she was still hesitating, when Hester Dethridge +appeared from the kitchen. + +She joined Anne at the top of the stairs--looked at her--and +wrote a line on her slate: "Frightened to go in? Leave it to Me." + +The silence in the room justified the inference that he was +asleep. If Hester looked in, Hester could do no harm now. Anne +accepted the proposal. + +"If you find any thing wrong," she said, "don't disturb his +brother. Come to me first." + +With that caution she withdrew. It was then nearly two in the +morning. She, like Julius, was sinking from fatigue. After +waiting a little, and hearing nothing, she threw herself on the +sofa in her room. If any thing happened, a knock at the door +would rouse her instantly. + + + +In the mean while Hester Dethridge opened Geoffrey's bedroom door +and went in. + +The movements and the mutterings which Anne had heard, had been +movements and mutterings in his sleep. The doctor's composing +draught, partially disturbed in its operation for the moment +only, had recovered its sedative influence on his brain. Geoffrey +was in a deep and quiet sleep. + +Hester stood near the door, looking at him. She moved to go out +again--stopped--and fixed her eyes suddenly on one of the inner +corners of the room. + +The same sinister change which had passed over her once already +in Geoffrey's presence, when they met in the kitchen-garden at +Windygates, now passed over her again. Her closed lips dropped +apart. Her eyes slowly dilated--moved, inch by inch from the +corner, following something along the empty wall, in the +direction of the bed--stopped at the head of the bed, exactly +above Geoffrey's sleeping face--stared, rigid and glittering, as +if they saw a sight of horror close over it. He sighed faintly in +his sleep. The sound, slight as it was, broke the spell that held +her. She slowly lifted her withered hands, and wrung them above +her head; fled back across the passage; and, rushing into her +room, sank on her knees at the bedside. + +Now, in the dead of night, a strange thing happened. Now, in the +silence and the darkness, a hideous secret was revealed. + +In the sanctuary of her own room--with all the other inmates of +the house sleeping round her--the dumb woman threw off the +mysterious and terrible disguise under which she deliberately +isolated herself among her fellow-creatures in the hours of the +day. Hester Dethridge spoke. In low, thick, smothered accents--in +a wild litany of her own--she prayed. She called upon the mercy +of God for deliverance from herself; for deliverance from the +possession of the Devil; for blindness to fall on her, for death +to strike her, so that she might never see that unnamed Horror +more! Sobs shook the whole frame of the stony woman whom nothing +human moved at other times. Tears poured over those clay-cold +cheeks. One by one, the frantic words of her prayer died away on +her lips. Fierce shuddering fits shook her from head to foot. She +started up from her knees in the darkness. Light! light! light! +The unnamed Horror was behind her in his room. The unnamed Horror +was looking at her through his open door. She found the +match-box, and lit the candle on her table--lit the two other +candles set for ornament only on the mantle piece--and looked all +round the brightly lighted little room. "Aha!" she said to +herself, wiping the cold sweat of her agony from her face. +"Candles to other people. God's light to _me._ Nothing to be +seen! nothing to be seen!" Taking one of the candles in her hand, +she crossed the passage, with her head down, turned her back on +Geoffrey's open door, closed it quickly and softly, stretching +out her hand behind her, and retreated again to her own room. She +fastened the door, and took an ink-bottle and a pen from the +mantle-piece. After considering for a moment, she hung a +handkerchief over the keyhole, and laid an old shawl longwise at +the bottom of the door, so as to hide the light in her room from +the observation of any one in the house who might wake and come +that way. This done, she opened the upper part of her dress, and, +slipping her fingers into a secret pocket hidden in the inner +side of her stays, produced from it some neatly folded leaves of +thin paper. Spread out on the table, the leaves revealed +themselves--all but the last--as closely covered with writing, in +her own hand. + +The first leaf was headed by this inscription: "My Confession. To +be put into my coffin, and to be buried with me when I die." + +She turned the manuscript over, so as to get at the last page. +The greater part of it was left blank. A few lines of writing, at +the top, bore the date of the day of the week and month on which +Lady Lundie had dismissed her from her situation at Windygates. +The entry was expressed in these terms: + +"I have seen IT again to-day. The first time for two months past. +In the kitchen-garden. Standing behind the young gentleman whose +name is Delamayn. Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you. I +have resisted. By prayer. By meditation in solitude. By reading +good books. I have left my place. I have lost sight of the young +gentleman for good. Who will IT stand behind? and point to next? +Lord have mercy upon me! Christ have mercy upon me!" + +Under this she now added the following lines, first carefully +prefixing the date: + +"I have seen IT again to-night. I notice one awful change. IT has +appeared twice behind the same person. This has never happened +before. This makes the temptation more terrible than ever. +To-night, in his bedroom, between the bed-head and the wall, I +have seen IT behind young Mr. Delamayn again. The head just above +his face, and the finger pointing downward at his throat. Twice +behind this one man. And never twice behind any other living +creature till now. If I see IT a third time behind him--Lord +deliver me! Christ deliver me! I daren't think of it. He shall +leave my cottage to-morrow. I would fain have drawn back from the +bargain, when the stranger took the lodgings for his friend, and +the friend proved to be Mr. Delamayn. I didn't like it, even +then. After the warning to-night, my mind is made up. He shall +go. He may have his money back, if he likes. He shall go. +(Memorandum: Felt the temptation whispering this time, and the +terror tearing at me all the while, as I have + never felt them yet. Resisted, as before, by prayer. Am now +going down stairs to meditate against it in solitude--to fortify +myself against it by good books. Lord be merciful to me a +sinner!)" + +In those words she closed the entry, and put the manuscript back +in the secret pocket in her stays. + +She went down to the little room looking on the garden, which had +once been her brother's study. There she lit a lamp, and took +some books from a shelf that hung against the wall. The books +were the Bible, a volume of Methodist sermons, and a set of +collected Memoirs of Methodist saints. Ranging these last +carefully round her, in an order of her own, Hester Dethridge sat +down with the Bible on her lap to watch out the night. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-THIRD. + +WHAT had happened in the hours of darkness? + +This was Anne's first thought, when the sunlight poured in at her +window, and woke her the next morning. + +She made immediate inquiry of the servant. The girl could only +speak for herself. Nothing had occurred to disturb her after she +had gone to bed. Her master was still, she believed, in his room. +Mrs. Dethridge was at her work in the kitchen. + +Anne went to the kitchen. Hester Dethridge was at her usual +occupation at that time--preparing the breakfast. The slight +signs of animation which Anne had noticed in her when they last +met appeared no more. The dull look was back again in her stony +eyes; the lifeless torpor possessed all her movements. Asked if +any thing had happened in the night, she slowly shook her stolid +head, slowly made the sign with her hand which signified, +"Nothing." + +Leaving the kitchen, Anne saw Julius in the front garden. She +went out and joined him. + +"I believe I have to thank your consideration for me for some +hours of rest," he said. "It was five in the morning when I woke. +I hope you had no reason to regret having left me to sleep? I +went into Geoffrey's room, and found him stirring. A second dose +of the mixture composed him again. The fever has gone. He looks +weaker and paler, but in other respects like himself. We will +return directly to the question of his health. I have something +to say to you, first, about a change which may be coming in your +life here." + +"Has he consented to the separation?" + +"No. He is as obstinate about it as ever. I have placed the +matter before him in every possible light. He still refuses, +positively refuses, a provision which would make him an +independent man for life." + +"Is it the provision he might have had, Lord Holchester, if--?" + +"If he had married Mrs. Glenarm? No. It is impossible, +consistently with my duty to my mother, and with what I owe to +the position in which my father's death has placed me, that I can +offer him such a fortune as Mrs. Glenarm's. Still, it is a +handsome income which he is mad enough to refuse. I shall persist +in pressing it on him. He must and shall take it." + +Anne felt no reviving hope roused in her by his last words. She +turned to another subject. + +"You had something to tell me," she said. "You spoke of a +change." + +"True. The landlady here is a very strange person; and she has +done a very strange thing. She has given Geoffrey notice to quit +these lodgings." + +"Notice to quit?" Anne repeated, in amazement. + +"Yes. In a formal letter. She handed it to me open, as soon as I +was up this morning. It was impossible to get any explanation +from her. The poor dumb creature simply wrote on her slate: 'He +may have his money back, if he likes: he shall go!' Greatly to my +surprise (for the woman inspires him with the strongest aversion) +Geoffrey refuses to go until his term is up. I have made the +peace between them for to-day. Mrs. Dethridge. very reluctantly, +consents to give him four-and-twenty hours. And there the matter +rests at present." + +"What can her motive be?" said Anne. + +"It's useless to inquire. Her mind is evidently off its balance. +One thing is clear, Geoffrey shall not keep you here much longer. +The coming change will remove you from this dismal place--which +is one thing gained. And it is quite possible that new scenes and +new surroundings may have their influence on Geoffrey for good. +His conduct--otherwise quite incomprehensible--may be the result +of some latent nervous irritation which medical help might reach. +I don't attempt to disguise from myself or from you, that your +position here is a most deplorable one. But before we despair of +the future, let us at least inquire whether there is any +explanation of my brother's present behavior to be found in the +present state of my brother's health. I have been considering +what the doctor said to me last night. The first thing to do is +to get the best medical advice on Geoffrey's case which is to be +had. What do you think?" + +"I daren't tell you what I think, Lord Holchester. I will try--it +is a very small return to make for your kindness--I will try to +see my position with your eyes, not with mine. The best medical +advice that you can obtain is the advice of Mr. Speedwell. It was +he who first made the discovery that your brother was in broken +health." + +"The very man for our purpose! I will send him here to-day or +to-morrow. Is there any thing else I can do for you? I shall see +Sir Patrick as soon as I get to town. Have you any message for +him?" + +Anne hesitated. Looking attentively at her, Julius noticed that +she changed color when he mentioned Sir Patrick's name. + +"Will you say that I gratefully thank him for the letter which +Lady Holchester was so good us to give me last night," she +replied. "And will you entreat him, from me, not to expose +himself, on my account, to--" she hesitated, and finished the +sentence with her eyes on the ground--"to what might happen, if +he came here and insisted on seeing me." + +"Does he propose to do that?" + +She hesitated again. The little nervous contraction of her lips +at one side of the mouth became more marked than usual. "He +writes that his anxiety is unendurable, and that he is resolved +to see me," she answered softly. + +"He is likely to hold to his resolution, I think," said Julius. +"When I saw him yesterday, Sir Patrick spoke of you in terms of +admiration--" + +He stopped. The bright tears were glittering on Anne's eyelashes; +one of her hands was toying nervously with something hidden +(possibly Sir Patrick's letter) in the bosom of her dress. "I +thank him with my whole heart," she said, in low, faltering +tones. "But it is best that he should not come here." + +"Would you like to write to him?" + +"I think I should prefer your giving him my message." + +Julius understood that the subject was to proceed no further. Sir +Patrick's letter had produced some impression on her, which the +sensitive nature of the woman seemed to shrink from +acknowledging, even to herself. They turned back to enter the +cottage. At the door they were met by a surprise. Hester +Dethridge, with her bonnet on--dressed, at that hour of the +morning, to go out! + +"Are you going to market already?" Anne asked. + +Hester shook her head. + +"When are you coming back?" + +Hester wrote on her slate: "Not till the night-time." + +Without another word of explanation she pulled her veil down over +her face, and made for the gate. The key had been left in the +dining-room by Julius, after he had let the doctor out. Hester +had it in her hand. She opened he gate and closed the door after +her, leaving the key in the lock. At the moment when the door +banged to Geoffrey appeared in the passage. + +"Where's the key?" he asked. "Who's gone out?" + +His brother answered the question. He looked backward and forward +suspiciously between Julius and Anne. "What does she go out for +at his time?" he said. "Has she left the house to avoid Me?" + +Julius thought this the likely explanation. Geoffrey went down +sulkily to the gate to lock it, and returned to them, with the +key in his pocket. + +"I'm obliged to be careful of the gate," he said. "The +neighborhood swarms with beggars and tramps. If you want to go +out," he added, turning pointedly to Anne, "I'm at your service, +as a good husband ought to be." + +After a hurried breakfast Julius took his departure. "I don't +accept your refusal," he said to his brother, before Anne. "You +will see me here again." Geoffrey obstinately repe ated the +refusal. "If you come here every day of your life," he said, "it +will be just the same." + +The gate closed on Julius. Anne returned again to the solitude of +her own chamber. Geoffrey entered the drawing-room, placed the +volumes of the Newgate Calendar on the table before him, and +resumed the reading which he had been unable to continue on the +evening before. + +Hour after hour he doggedly plodded through one case of murder +after another. He had read one good half of the horrid chronicle +of crime before his power of fixing his attention began to fail +him. Then he lit his pipe, and went out to think over it in the +garden. However the atrocities of which he had been reading might +differ in other respects, there was one terrible point of +resemblance, which he had not anticipated, and in which every one +of the cases agreed. Sooner or later, there was the dead body +always certain to be found; always bearing its dumb witness, in +the traces of poison or in the marks of violence, to the crime +committed on it. + +He walked to and fro slowly, still pondering over the problem +which had first found its way into his mind when he had stopped +in the front garden and had looked up at Anne's window in the +dark. "How?" That had been the one question before him, from the +time when the lawyer had annihilated his hopes of a divorce. It +remained the one question still. There was no answer to it in his +own brain; there was no answer to it in the book which he had +been consulting. Every thing was in his favor if he could only +find out "how." He had got his hated wife up stairs at his +mercy--thanks to his refusal of the money which Julius had +offered to him. He was living in a place absolutely secluded from +public observation on all sides of it--thanks to his resolution +to remain at the cottage, even after his landlady had insulted +him by sending him a notice to quit. Every thing had been +prepared, every thing had been sacrificed, to the fulfillment of +one purpose--and how to attain that purpose was still the same +impenetrable mystery to him which it had been from the first! + +What was the other alternative? To accept the proposal which +Julius had made. In other words, to give up his vengeance on +Anne, and to turn his back on the splendid future which Mrs. +Glenarm's devotion still offered to him. + +Never! He would go back to the books. He was not at the end of +them. The slightest hint in the pages which were still to be read +might set his sluggish brain working in the right direction. The +way to be rid of her, without exciting the suspicion of any +living creature, in the house or out of it, was a way that might +be found yet. + + + +Could a man, in his position of life, reason in this brutal +manner? could he act in this merciless way? Surely the thought of +what he was about to do must have troubled him this time! + +Pause for a moment--and look back at him in the past. + +Did he feel any remorse when he was plotting the betrayal of +Arnold in the garden at Windygates? The sense which feels remorse +had not been put into him. What he is now is the legitimate +consequence of what he was then. A far more serious temptation is +now urging him to commit a far more serious crime. How is he to +resist? Will his skill in rowing (as Sir Patrick once put it), +his swiftness in running, his admirable capacity and endurance in +other physical exercises, help him to win a purely moral victory +over his own selfishness and his own cruelty? No! The moral and +mental neglect of himself, which the material tone of public +feeling about him has tacitly encouraged, has left him at the +mercy of the worst instincts in his nature--of all that is most +vile and of all that is most dangerous in the composition of the +natural man. With the mass of his fellows, no harm out of the +common has come of this, because no temptation out of the common +has passed their way. But with _him,_ the case is reversed. A +temptation out of the common has passed _his_ way. How does it +find him prepared to meet it? It finds him, literally and +exactly, what his training has left him, in the presence of any +temptation small or great--a defenseless man. + + + +Geoffrey returned to the cottage. The servant stopped him in the +passage, to ask at what time he wished to dine. Instead of +answering, he inquired angrily for Mrs. Dethridge. Mrs. Dethridge +not come back. + +It was now late in the afternoon, and she had been out since the +early morning. This had never happened before. Vague suspicions +of her, one more monstrous than another, began to rise in +Geoffrey's mind. Between the drink and the fever, he had been (as +Julius had told him) wandering in his mind during a part of the +night. Had he let any thing out in that condition? Had Hester +heard it? And was it, by any chance, at the bottom of her long +absence and her notice to quit? He determined--without letting +her see that he suspected her--to clear up that doubt as soon as +his landlady returned to the house. + +The evening came. It was past nine o'clock before there was a +ring at the bell. The servant came to ask for the key. Geoffrey +rose to go to the gate himself--and changed his mind before he +left the room. _Her_ suspicions might be roused (supposing it to +be Hester who was waiting for admission) if he opened the gate to +her when the servant was there to do it. He gave the girl the +key, and kept out of sight. + + * * * * * * + +"Dead tired!"--the servant said to herself, seeing her mistress +by the light of the lamp over the gate. + +"Dead tired!"--Geoffrey said to himself, observing Hester +suspiciously as she passed him in the passage on her way up +stairs to take off her bonnet in her own room. + +"Dead tired!"--Anne said to herself, meeting Hester on the upper +floor, and receiving from her a letter in Blanche's handwriting, +delivered to the mistress of the cottage by the postman, who had +met her at her own gate. + +Having given the letter to Anne, Hester Dethridge withdrew to her +bedroom. + +Geoffrey closed the door of the drawing-room, in which the +candles were burning, and went into the dining-room, in which +there was no light. Leaving the door ajar, he waited to intercept +his landlady on her way back to her supper in the kitchen. + +Hester wearily secured her door, wearily lit the candles, wearily +put the pen and ink on the table. For some minutes after this she +was compelled to sit down, and rally her strength and fetch her +breath. After a little she was able to remove her upper clothing. +This done she took the manuscript inscribed, "My Confession," out +of the secret pocket of her stays--turned to the last leaf as +before--and wrote another entry, under the entry made on the +previous night. + +"This morning I gave him notice to quit, and offered him his +money back if he wanted it. He refuses to go. He shall go +to-morrow, or I will burn the place over his head. All through +to-day I have avoided him by keeping out of the house. No rest to +ease my mind, and no sleep to close my eyes. I humbly bear my +cross as long as my strength will let me." + +At those words the pen dropped from her fingers. Her head nodded +on her breast. She roused herself with a start. Sleep was the +enemy she dreaded: sleep brought dreams. + +She unfastened the window-shutters and looked out at the night. +The peaceful moonlight was shining over the garden. The clear +depths of the night sky were soothing and beautiful to look at. +What! Fading already? clouds? darkness? No! Nearly asleep once +more. She roused herself again, with a start. There was the +moonlight, and there was the garden as bright under it as ever. + +Dreams or no dreams, it was useless to fight longer against the +weariness that overpowered her. She closed the shutters, and went +back to the bed; and put her Confession in its customary place at +night, under her pillow. + +She looked round the room--and shuddered. Every corner of it was +filled with the terrible memories of the past night. She might +wake from the torture of the dreams to find the terror of the +Apparition watching at her bedside. Was there no remedy? no +blessed safeguard under which she might tranquilly resign herself +to sleep? A thought crossed her mind. The good book--the Bible. +If she slept with the Bible under her pillow, there was hope in +the good book--the hope of sleeping in peace. + +It was not worth while to put on the gown and the stays which she +had taken off. Her shawl would cover her. It was equally needless +to take the candle. The lower shutters would not be closed at +that hour; and if they were, she could lay her hand on the Bible, +in its place on the parlor book-shelf, in the dark. + +She removed the Confession from under the pillow. Not even for a +minute could she prevail on herself to leave it in one room while +she was away from it in another. With the manuscript folded up, +and hidden in her hand, she slowly descended the stairs again. +Her knees trembled under her. She was obliged to hold by the +banister, with the hand that was free. + +Geoffrey observed her from the dining-room, on her way down the +stairs. He waited to see what she did, before he showed himself, +and spoke to her. Instead of going on into the kitchen, she +stopped short, and entered the parlor. Another suspicious +circumstance! What did she want in the parlor, without a candle, +at that time of night? + +She went to the book-case--her dark figure plainly visible in the +moonlight that flooded the little room. She staggered and put her +hand to her head; giddy, to all appearance, from extreme fatigue. +She recovered herself, and took a book from the shelf. She leaned +against the wall after she had possessed herself of the book. Too +weary, as it seemed, to get up stairs again without a little +rest. Her arm-chair was near her. Better rest, for a moment or +two, to be had in that than could be got by leaning against the +wall. She sat down heavily in the chair, with the book on her +lap. One of her arms hung over the arm of the chair, with the +hand closed, apparently holding something. + +Her head nodded on her breast--recovered itself--and sank gently +on the cushion at the back of the chair. Asleep? Fast asleep. + +In less than a minute the muscles of the closed hand that hung +over the arm of the chair slowly relaxed. Something white slipped +out of her hand, and lay in the moonlight on the floor. + +Geoffrey took off his heavy shoes, and entered the room +noiselessly in his stockings. He picked up the white thing on the +floor. It proved to be a collection of several sheets of thin +paper, neatly folded together, and closely covered with writing. + +Writing? As long as she was awake she had kept it hidden in her +hand. Why hide it? + +Had he let out any thing to compromise himself when he was +light-headed with the fever the night before? and had she taken +it down in writing to produce against him? Possessed by guilty +distrust, even that monstrous doubt assumed a look of probability +to Geoffrey's mind. He left the parlor as noiselessly as he had +entered it, and made for the candle-light in the drawing-room, +determined to examine the manuscript in his hand. + +After carefully smoothing out the folded leaves on the table, he +turned to the first page, and read these lines. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FOURTH. + +THE MANUSCRIPT. + +1. + +"MY Confession: To be put into my coffin; and to be buried with +me when I die. + +"This is the history of what I did in the time of my married +life. Here--known to no other mortal creature, confessed to my +Creator alone--is the truth. + +"At the great day of the Resurrection, we shall all rise again in +our bodies as we have lived. When I am called before the Judgment +Seat I shall have this in my hand. + +"Oh, just and merciful Judge, Thou knowest what I have suffered. +My trust is in Thee. + +2. + +"I am the eldest of a large family, born of pious parents. We +belonged to the congregation of the Primitive Methodists. + +"My sisters were all married before me. I remained for some years +the only one at home. At the latter part of the time my mother's +health failed; and I managed the house in her place. Our +spiritual pastor, good Mr. Bapchild, used often to dine with us, +on Sundays, between the services. He approved of my management of +the house, and, in particular, of my cooking. This was not +pleasant to my mother, who felt a jealousy of my being, as it +were, set over her in her place. My unhappiness at home began in +this way. My mother's temper got worse as her health got worse. +My father was much away from us, traveling for his business. I +had to bear it all. About this time I began to think it would be +well for me if I could marry as my sisters had done; and have +good Mr. Bapchild to dinner, between the services, in a house of +my own. + +"In this frame of mind I made acquaintance with a young man who +attended service at our chapel. + +"His name was Joel Dethridge. He had a beautiful voice. When we +sang hymns, he sang off the same book with me. By trade he was a +paper-hanger. We had much serious talk together. I walked with +him on Sundays. He was a good ten years younger than I was; and, +being only a journeyman, his worldly station was below mine. My +mother found out the liking that had grown up between us. She +told my father the next time he was at home. Also my married +sisters and my brothers. They all joined together to stop things +from going further between me and Joel Dethridge. I had a hard +time of it. Mr. Bapchild expressed himself as feeling much +grieved at the turn things were taking. He introduced me into a +sermon--not by name, but I knew who it was meant for. Perhaps I +might have given way if they had not done one thing. They made +inquiries of my young man's enemies, and brought wicked stories +of him to me behind his back. This, after we had sung off the +same hymn-book, and walked together, and agreed one with the +other on religious subjects, was too much to bear. I was of age +to judge for myself. And I married Joel Dethridge. + +3. + +"My relations all turned their backs on me. Not one of them was +present at my marriage; my brother Reuben, in particular, who led +the rest, saying that they had done with me from that time forth. +Mr. Bapchild was much moved; shed tears, and said he would pray +for me. + +"I was married in London by a pastor who was a stranger; and we +settled in London with fair prospects. I had a little fortune of +my own--my share of some money left to us girls by our aunt +Hester, whom I was named after. It was three hundred pounds. +Nearly one hundred of this I spent in buying furniture to fit up +the little house we took to live in. The rest I gave to my +husband to put into the bank against the time when he wanted it +to set up in business for himself. + +"For three months, more or less, we got on nicely--except in one +particular. My husband never stirred in the matter of starting in +business for himself. + +"He was once or twice cross with me when I said it seemed a pity +to be spending the money in the bank (which might be afterward +wanted) instead of earning more in business. Good Mr. Bapchild, +happening about this time to be in London, staid over Sunday, and +came to dine with us between the services. He had tried to make +my peace with my relations--but he had not succeeded. At my +request he spoke to my husband about the necessity of exerting +himself. My husband took it ill. I then saw him seriously out of +temper for the first time. Good Mr. Bapchild said no more. He +appeared to be alarmed at what had happened, and he took his +leave early. + +"Shortly afterward my husband went out. I got tea ready for +him--but he never came back. I got supper ready for him--but he +never came back. It was past twelve at night before I saw him +again. I was very much startled by the state he came home in. He +didn't speak like himself, or look like himself: he didn't seem +to know me--wandered in his mind, and fell all in a lump like on +our bed. I ran out and fetched the doctor to him. + +"The doctor pulled him up to the light, and looked at him; +smelled his breath, and dropped him down again on the bed; turned +about, and stared at me. 'What's the matter, Sir?' I says. 'Do +you mean to tell me you don't know?' says the doctor. 'No, Sir,' +says I. 'Why what sort of a woman are you,' says he, 'not to know +a drunken man when you see him!' With that he went away, and left +me standing by the bedside, all in a tremble from head to foot. + +"This was how I first found out that I was the wife + of a drunken man. + +4. + +"I have omitted to say any thing about my husband's family. + +"While we were keeping company together he told me he was an +orphan--with an uncle and aunt in Canada, and an only brother +settled in Scotland. Before we were married he gave me a letter +from this brother. It was to say that he was sorry he was not +able to come to England, and be present at my marriage, and to +wish me joy and the rest of it. Good Mr. Bapchild (to whom, in my +distress, I wrote word privately of what had happened) wrote back +in return, telling me to wait a little, and see whether my +husband did it again. + +"I had not long to wait. He was in liquor again the next day, and +the next. Hearing this, Mr. Bapchild instructed me to send him +the letter from my husband's brother. He reminded me of some of +the stories about my husband which I had refused to believe in +the time before I was married; and he said it might be well to +make inquiries. + +"The end of the inquiries was this. The brother, at that very +time, was placed privately (by his own request) under a doctor's +care to get broken of habits of drinking. The craving for strong +liquor (the doctor wrote) was in the family. They would be sober +sometimes for months together, drinking nothing stronger than +tea. Then the fit would seize them; and they would drink, drink, +drink, for days together, like the mad and miserable wretches +that they were. + +"This was the husband I was married to. And I had offended all my +relations, and estranged them from me, for his sake. Here was +surely a sad prospect for a woman after only a few months of +wedded life! + +"In a year's time the money in the bank was gone; and my husband +was out of employment. He always got work--being a first-rate +hand when he was sober--and always lost it again when the +drinking-fit seized him. I was loth to leave our nice little +house, and part with my pretty furniture; and I proposed to him +to let me try for employment, by the day, as cook, and so keep +things going while he was looking out again for work. He was +sober and penitent at the time; and he agreed to what I proposed. +And, more than that, he took the Total Abstinence Pledge, and +promised to turn over a new leaf. Matters, as I thought, began to +look fairly again. We had nobody but our two selves to think of. +I had borne no child, and had no prospect of bearing one. Unlike +most women, I thought this a mercy instead of a misfortune. In my +situation (as I soon grew to know) my becoming a mother would +only have proved to be an aggravation of my hard lot. + +"The sort of employment I wanted was not to be got in a day. Good +Mr. Bapchild gave me a character; and our landlord, a worthy man +(belonging, I am sorry to say, to the Popish Church), spoke for +me to the steward of a club. Still, it took time to persuade +people that I was the thorough good cook I claimed to be. Nigh on +a fortnight had passed before I got the chance I had been looking +out for. I went home in good spirits (for me) to report what had +happened, and found the brokers in the house carrying off the +furniture which I had bought with my own money for sale by +auction. I asked them how they dared touch it without my leave. +They answered, civilly enough I must own, that they were acting +under my husband's orders; and they went on removing it before my +own eyes, to the cart outside. I ran up stairs, and found my +husband on the landing. He was in liquor again. It is useless to +say what passed between us. I shall only mention that this was +the first occasion on which he lifted his fist, and struck me. + +5. + +"Having a spirit of my own, I was resolved not to endure it. I +ran out to the Police Court, hard by. + +"My money had not only bought the furniture--it had kept the +house going as well; paying the taxes which the Queen and the +Parliament asked for among other things. I now went to the +magistrate to see what the Queen and the Parliament, in return +for the taxes, would do for _me._ + +" 'Is your furniture settled on yourself?' he says, when I told +him what had happened. + +"I didn't understand what he meant. He turned to some person who +was sitting on the bench with him. 'This is a hard case,' he +says. 'Poor people in this condition of life don't even know what +a marriage settlement means. And, if they did, how many of them +could afford to pay the lawyer's charges?' Upon that he turned to +me. 'Yours is a common case,' he said. 'In the present state of +the law I can do nothing for you.' + +"It was impossible to believe that. Common or not, I put my case +to him over again. + +" 'I have bought the furniture with my own money, Sir,' I says. +'It's mine, honestly come by, with bill and receipt to prove it. +They are taking it away from me by force, to sell it against my +will. Don't tell me that's the law. This is a Christian country. +It can't be.' + +" 'My good creature,' says he, 'you are a married woman. The law +doesn't allow a married woman to call any thing her own--unless +she has previously (with a lawyer's help) made a bargain to that +effect with her husband before marrying him. You have made no +bargain. Your husband has a right to sell your furniture if he +likes. I am sorry for you; I can't hinder him.' + +"I was obstinate about it. 'Please to answer me this, Sir,' I +says. 'I've been told by wiser heads than mine that we all pay +our taxes to keep the Queen and the Parliament going; and that +the Queen and the Parliament make laws to protect us in return. I +have paid my taxes. Why, if you please, is there no law to +protect me in return?' + +" 'I can't enter into that,' says he. 'I must take the law as I +find it; and so must you. I see a mark there on the side of your +face. Has your husband been beating you? If he has, summon him +here I can punish him for _that._' + +" 'How can you punish him, Sir?' says I. + +" 'I can fine him,' says he. 'Or I can send him to prison.' + +" 'As to the fine,' says I, 'he can pay that out of the money he +gets by selling my furniture. As to the prison, while he's in it, +what's to become of me, with my money spent by him, and my +possessions gone; and when he's _out_ of it, what's to become of +me again, with a husband whom I have been the means of punishing, +and who comes home to his wife knowing it? It's bad enough as it +is, Sir,' says I. 'There's more that's bruised in me than what +shows in my face. I wish you good-morning.' + +6. + +"When I got back the furniture was gone, and my husband was gone. +There was nobody but the landlord in the empty house. He said all +that could be said--kindly enough toward me, so far as I was +concerned. When he was gone I locked my trunk, and got away in a +cab after dark, and found a lodging to lay my head in. If ever +there was a lonely, broken-hearted creature in the world, I was +that creature that night. + +"There was but one chance of earning my bread--to go to the +employment offered me (under a man cook, at a club). And there +was but one hope--the hope that I had lost sight of my husband +forever. + +"I went to my work--and prospered in it--and earned my first +quarter's wages. But it's not good for a woman to be situated as +I was; friendless and alone, with her things that she took a +pride in sold away from her, and with nothing to look forward to +in her life to come. I was regular in my attendance at chapel; +but I think my heart began to get hardened, and my mind to be +overcast in secret with its own thoughts about this time. There +was a change coming. Two or three days after I had earned the +wages just mentioned my husband found me out. The furniture-money +was all spent. He made a disturbance at the club, I was only able +to quiet him by giving him all the money I could spare from my +own necessities. The scandal was brought before the committee. +They said, if the circumstance occurred again, they should be +obliged to part with me. In a fortnight the circumstance occurred +again. It's useless to dwell on it. They all said they were sorry +for me. I lost the place. My husband went back with me to my +lodgings. The next morning I caught him taking my purse, with the +few shillings I had in it, out of my trunk, which he had broken +open. We quarreled. And he struck me again--this time knocking me +down. + +"I + went once more to the police court, and told my story--to +another magistrate this time. My only petition was to have my +husband kept away from me. 'I don't want to be a burden on +others' (I says) 'I don't want to do any thing but what's right. +I don't even complain of having been very cruelly used. All I ask +is to be let to earn an honest living. Will the law protect me in +the effort to do that?' + +"The answer, in substance, was that the law might protect me, +provided I had money to spend in asking some higher court to +grant me a separation. After allowing my husband to rob me openly +of the only property I possessed--namely, my furniture--the law +turned round on me when I called upon it in my distress, and held +out its hand to be paid. I had just three and sixpence left in +the world--and the prospect, if I earned more, of my husband +coming (with permission of the law) and taking it away from me. +There was only one chance--namely, to get time to turn round in, +and to escape him again. I got a month's freedom from him, by +charging him with knocking me down. The magistrate (happening to +be young, and new to his business) sent him to prison, instead of +fining him. This gave me time to get a character from the club, +as well as a special testimonial from good Mr. Bapchild. With the +help of these, I obtained a place in a private family--a place in +the country, this time. + +"I found myself now in a haven of peace. I was among worthy +kind-hearted people, who felt for my distresses, and treated me +most indulgently. Indeed, through all my troubles, I must say I +have found one thing hold good. In my experience, I have observed +that people are oftener quick than not to feel a human compassion +for others in distress. Also, that they mostly see plain enough +what's hard and cruel and unfair on them in the governing of the +country which they help to keep going. But once ask them to get +on from sitting down and grumbling about it, to rising up and +setting it right, and what do you find them? As helpless as a +flock of sheep--that's what you find them. + +"More than six months passed, and I saved a little money again. + +"One night, just as we were going to bed, there was a loud ring +at the bell. The footman answered the door--and I heard my +husband's voice in the hall. He had traced me, with the help of a +man he knew in the police; and he had come to claim his rights. I +offered him all the little money I had, to let me be. My good +master spoke to him. It was all useless. He was obstinate and +savage. If--instead of my running off from him--it had been all +the other way and he had run off from me, something might have +been done (as I understood) to protect me. But he stuck to his +wife. As long as I could make a farthing, he stuck to his wife. +Being married to him, I had no right to have left him; I was +bound to go with my husband; there was no escape for me. I bade +them good-by. And I have never forgotten their kindness to me +from that day to this. + +"My husband took me back to London. + +"As long as the money lasted, the drinking went on. When it was +gone, I was beaten again. Where was the remedy? There was no +remedy, but to try and escape him once more. Why didn't I have +him locked up? What was the good of having him locked up? In a +few weeks he would be out of prison; sober and penitent, and +promising amendment--and then when the fit took him, there he +would be, the same furious savage that be had been often and +often before. My heart got hard under the hopelessness of it; and +dark thoughts beset me, mostly at night. About this time I began +to say to myself, 'There's no deliverance from this, but in +death--his death or mine.' + +"Once or twice I went down to the bridges after dark and looked +over at the river. No. I wasn't the sort of woman who ends her +own wretchedness in that way. Your blood must be in a fever, and +your head in a flame--at least I fancy so--you must be hurried +into it, like, to go and make away with yourself. My troubles +never took that effect on me. I always turned cold under them +instead of hot. Bad for me, I dare say; but what you are--you +are. Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? + +"I got away from him once more, and found good employment once +more. It don't matter how, and it don't matter where. My story is +always the same thing, over and over again. Best get to the end. + +"There was one change, however, this time. My employment was not +in a private family. I was also allowed to teach cookery to young +women, in my leisure hours. What with this, and what with a +longer time passing on the present occasion before my husband +found me out, I was as comfortably off as in my position I could +hope to be. When my work was done, I went away at night to sleep +in a lodging of my own. It was only a bedroom; and I furnished it +myself--partly for the sake of economy (the rent being not half +as much as for a furnished room); and partly for the sake of +cleanliness. Through all my troubles I always liked things neat +about me--neat and shapely and good. + +"Well, it's needless to say how it ended. He found me out +again--this time by a chance meeting with me in the street. + +"He was in rags, and half starved. But that didn't matter now. +All he had to do was to put his hand into my pocket and take what +he wanted. There is no limit, in England, to what a bad husband +may do--as long as he sticks to his wife. On the present +occasion, he was cunning enough to see that he would be the loser +if he disturbed me in my employment. For a while things went on +as smoothly as they could. I made a pretense that the work was +harder than usual; and I got leave (loathing the sight of him, I +honestly own) to sleep at the place where I was employed. This +was not for long. The fit took him again, in due course; and he +came and made a disturbance. As before, this was not to be borne +by decent people. As before, they were sorry to part with me. As +before, I lost my place. + +"Another woman would have gone mad under it. I fancy it just +missed, by a hair's breadth, maddening Me. + +"When I looked at him that night, deep in his drunken sleep, I +thought of Jael and Sisera (see the book of Judges; chapter 4th; +verses 17 to 21). It says, she 'took a nail of the tent, and took +a hammer in her hand, and went softly unto him, and smote the +nail into his temples, and fastened it into the ground: for he +was fast asleep and weary. So he died.' She did this deed to +deliver her nation from Sisera. If there had been a hammer and a +nail in the room that night, I think I should have been +Jael--with this difference, that I should have done it to deliver +myself. + +"With the morning this passed off, for the time. I went and spoke +to a lawyer. + +"Most people, in my place, would have had enough of the law +already. But I was one of the sort who drain the cup to the +dregs. What I said to him was, in substance, this. 'I come to ask +your advice about a madman. Mad people, as I understand it, are +people who have lost control over their own minds. Sometimes this +leads them to entertaining delusions; and sometimes it leads them +to committing actions hurtful to others or to themselves. My +husband has lost all control over his own craving for strong +drink. He requires to be kept from liquor, as other madmen +require to be kept from attempting their own lives, or the lives +of those about them. It's a frenzy beyond his own control, with +_him_--just as it's a frenzy beyond their own control, with +_them._ There are Asylums for mad people, all over the country, +at the public disposal, on certain conditions. If I fulfill those +conditions, will the law deliver me from the misery of being +married to a madman, whose madness is drink?'--'No,' says the +lawyer. 'The law of England declines to consider an incurable +drunkard as a fit object for restraint, the law of England leaves +the husbands and wives of such people in a perfectly helpless +situation, to deal with their own misery as they best can.' + +"I made my acknowledgments to the gentleman and left him. The +last chance was this chance--and this had failed me. + +7. + +"The thought that had once found its way into my mind already, +now found its way back again, and never altogether left me from +that time forth. No deliverance for me but in death--his death, +or mine. + +"I had it before me night and day; in chapel and out of chapel +just the same. I read the story of Jael and Sisera so often that +the Bible got to open of itself at that place. + +"The laws of my country, which ought to have protected me as an +honest woman, left me helpless. In place of the laws I had no +friend near to open my heart to. I was shut up in myself. And I +was married to that man. Consider me as a human creature, and +say, Was this not trying my humanity very hardly? + +"I wrote to good Mr. Bapchild. Not going into particulars; only +telling him I was beset by temptation, and begging him to come +and help me. He was confined to his bed by illness; he could only +write me a letter of good advice. To profit by good advice people +must have a glimpse of happiness to look forward to as a reward +for exerting themselves. Religion itself is obliged to hold out a +reward, and to say to us poor mortals, Be good, and you shall go +to Heaven. I had no glimpse of happiness. I was thankful (in a +dull sort of way) to good Mr. Bapchild--and there it ended. + +"The time had been when a word from my old pastor would have put +me in the right way again. I began to feel scared by myself. If +the next ill usage I received from Joel Dethridge found me an +unchanged woman, it was borne in strongly on my mind that I +should be as likely as not to get my deliverance from him by my +own hand. + +"Goaded to it, by the fear of this, I humbled myself before my +relations for the first time. I wrote to beg their pardon; to own +that they had proved to be right in their opinion of my husband; +and to entreat them to be friends with me again, so far as to let +me visit them from time to time. My notion was, that it might +soften my heart if I could see the old place, and talk the old +talk, and look again at the well-remembered faces. I am almost +ashamed to own it--but, if I had had any thing to give, I would +have parted with it all, to be allowed to go back into mother's +kitchen and cook the Sunday dinner for them once more. + +"But this was not to be. Not long before my letter was received +mother had died. They laid it all at my door. She had been ailing +for years past, and the doctors had said it was hopeless from the +first--but they laid it all at my door. One of my sisters wrote +to say that much, in as few words as could possibly suffice for +saying it. My father never answered my letter at all. + +8. + +"Magistrates and lawyers; relations and friends; endurance of +injuries, patience, hope, and honest work--I had tried all these, +and tried them vainly. Look round me where I might, the prospect +was closed on all sides. + +"At this time my husband had got a little work to do. He came +home out of temper one night, and I gave him a warning. 'Don't +try me too far, Joel, for your own sake,' was all I said. It was +one of his sober days; and, for the first time, a word from me +seemed to have an effect on him. He looked hard at me for a +minute or so. And then he went and sat down in a corner, and held +his peace. + +"This was on a Tuesday in the week. On the Saturday he got paid, +and the drinking fit took him again. + +"On Friday in the next week I happened to come back late--having +had a good stroke of work to do that day, in the way of cooking a +public dinner for a tavern-keeper who knew me. I found my husband +gone, and the bedroom stripped of the furniture which I had put +into it. For the second time he had robbed me of my own property, +and had turned it into money to be spent in drink. + +"I didn't say a word. I stood and looked round the empty room. +What was going on in me I hardly knew myself at the time, and +can't describe now. All I remember is, that, after a little, I +turned about to leave the house. I knew the places where thy +husband was likely to be found; and the devil possessed me to go +and find him. The landlady came out into the passage and tried to +stop me. She was a bigger and a stronger woman than I was. But I +shook her off like a child. Thinking over it now, I believe she +was in no condition to put out her strength. The sight of me +frightened her. + +"I found him. I said--well, I said what a woman beside herself +with fury would be likely to say. It's needless to tell how it +ended. He knocked me down. + +"After that, there is a spot of darkness like in my memory. The +next thing I can call to mind, is coming back to my senses after +some days. Three of my teeth were knocked out--but that was not +the worst of it. My head had struck against something in falling, +and some part of me (a nerve, I think they said) was injured in +such a way as to affect my speech. I don't mean that I was +downright dumb--I only mean that, all of a sudden, it had become +a labor to me to speak. A long word was as serious an obstacle as +if I was a child again. They took me to the hospital. When the +medical gentlemen heard what it was, the medical gentlemen came +crowding round me. I appeared to lay hold of their interest, just +as a story-book lays hold of the interest of other people. The +upshot of it was, that I might end in being dumb, or I might get +my speech again--the chances were about equal. Only two things +were needful. One of them was that I should live on good +nourishing diet. The other was, that I should keep my mind easy. + +"About the diet it was not possible to decide. My getting good +nourishing food and drink depended on my getting money to buy the +same. As to my mind, there was no difficulty about _that._ If my +husband came back to me, my mind was made up to kill him. + +"Horrid--I am well aware this is horrid. Nobody else, in my +place, would have ended as wickedly as that. All the other women +in the world, tried as I was, would have risen superior to the +trial. + +9. + +"I have said that people (excepting my husband and my relations) +were almost always good to me. + +"The landlord of the house which we had taken when we were +married heard of my sad case. He gave me one of his empty houses +to look after, and a little weekly allowance for doing it. Some +of the furniture in the upper rooms, not being wanted by the last +tenant, was left to be taken at a valuation if the next tenant +needed it. Two of the servants' bedrooms (in the attics), one +next to the other, had all that was wanted in them. So I had a +roof to cover me, and a choice of beds to lie on, and money to +get me food. All well again--but all too late. If that house +could speak, what tales that house would have to tell of me! + +"I had been told by the doctors to exercise my speech. Being all +alone, with nobody to speak to, except when the landlord dropped +in, or when the servant next door said, 'Nice day, ain't it?' or, +'Don't you feel lonely?' or such like, I bought the newspaper, +and read it out loud to myself to exercise my speech in that way. +One day I came upon a bit about the wives of drunken husbands. It +was a report of something said on that subject by a London +coroner, who had held inquests on dead husbands (in the lower +ranks of life), and who had his reasons for suspecting the wives. +Examination of the body (he said) didn't prove it; and witnesses +didn't prove it; but he thought it, nevertheless, quite possible, +in some cases, that, when the woman could bear it no longer, she +sometimes took a damp towel, and waited till the husband (drugged +with his own liquor) was sunk in his sleep, and then put the +towel over his nose and mouth, and ended it that way without any +body being the wiser. I laid down the newspaper; and fell into +thinking. My mind was, by this time, in a prophetic way. I said +to myself 'I haven't happened on this for nothing: this means +that I shall see my husband again.' + +"It was then just after my dinner-time--two o'clock. That same +night, at the moment when I had put out my candle, and laid me +down in bed, I heard a knock at the street door. Before I had lit +my candle I says to myself, 'Here he is.' + +"I huddled on a few things, and struck a light, and went down +stairs. I called out through the door, 'Who's there?' And his +voice answered, 'Let me in.' + +"I sat down on a chair in the passage, and shook all over like a +person struck + with palsy. Not from the fear of him--but from my mind being in +the prophetic way. I knew I was going to be driven to it at last. +Try as I might to keep from doing it, my mind told me I was to do +it now. I sat shaking on the chair in the passage; I on one side +of the door, and he on the other. + + "He knocked again, and again, and again. I knew it was useless +to try--and yet I resolved to try. I determined not to let him in +till I was forced to it. I determined to let him alarm the +neighborhood, and to see if the neighborhood would step between +us. I went up stairs and waited at the open staircase window over +the door. + +"The policeman came up, and the neighbors came out. They were all +for giving him into custody. The policeman laid hands on him. He +had but one word to say; he had only to point up to me at the +window, and to tell them I was his wife. The neighbors went +indoors again. The policeman dropped hold of his arm. It was I +who was in the wrong, and not he. I was bound to let my husband +in. I went down stairs again, and let him in. + +"Nothing passed between us that night. I threw open the door of +the bedroom next to mine, and went and locked myself into my own +room. He was dead beat with roaming the streets, without a penny +in his pocket, all day long. The bed to lie on was all he wanted +for that night. + +"The next morning I tried again--tried to turn back on the way +that I was doomed to go; knowing beforehand that it would be of +no use. I offered him three parts of my poor weekly earnings, to +be paid to him regularly at the landlord's office, if he would +only keep away from me, and from the house. He laughed in my +face. As my husband, he could take all my earnings if he chose. +And as for leaving the house, the house offered him free quarters +to live in as long as I was employed to look after it. The +landlord couldn't part man and wife. + +"I said no more. Later in the day the landlord came. He said if +we could make it out to live together peaceably he had neither +the right nor the wish to interfere. If we made any disturbances, +then he should be obliged to provide himself with some other +woman to look after the house. I had nowhere else to go, and no +other employment to undertake. If, in spite of that, I had put on +my bonnet and walked out, my husband would have walked out after +me. And all decent people would have patted him on the back, and +said, 'Quite right, good man--quite right.' + +"So there he was by his own act, and with the approval of others, +in the same house with me. + +"I made no remark to him or to the landlord. Nothing roused me +now. I knew what was coming; I waited for the end. There was some +change visible in me to others, as I suppose, though not +noticeable by myself, which first surprised my husband and then +daunted him. When the next night came I heard him lock the door +softly in his own room. It didn't matter to me. When the time was +ripe ten thousand locks wouldn't lock out what was to come. + +"The next day, bringing my weekly payment, brought me a step +nearer on the way to the end. Getting the money, he could get the +drink. This time he began cunningly--in other words, he began his +drinking by slow degrees. The landlord (bent, honest man, on +trying to keep the peace between us) had given him some odd jobs +to do, in the way of small repairs, here and there about the +house. 'You owe this,' he says, 'to my desire to do a good turn +to your poor wife. I am helping you for her sake. Show yourself +worthy to be helped, if you can.' + +"He said, as usual, that he was going to turn over a new leaf. +Too late! The time had gone by. He was doomed, and I was doomed. +It didn't matter what he said now. It didn't matter when he +locked his door again the last thing at night. + +"The next day was Sunday. Nothing happened. I went to chapel. +Mere habit. It did me no good. He got on a little with the +drinking--but still cunningly, by slow degrees. I knew by +experience that this meant a long fit, and a bad one, to come. + +"Monday, there were the odd jobs about the house to be begun. He +was by this time just sober enough to do his work, and just tipsy +enough to take a spiteful pleasure in persecuting his wife. He +went out and got the things he wanted, and came back and called +for me. A skilled workman like he was (he said) wanted a +journeyman under him. There were things which it was beneath a +skilled workman to do for himself. He was not going to call in a +man or a boy, and then have to pay them. He was going to get it +done for nothing, and he meant to make a journeyman of _me._ Half +tipsy and half sober, he went on talking like that, and laying +out his things, all quite right, as he wanted them. When they +were ready he straightened himself up, and he gave me his orders +what I was to do. + +"I obeyed him to the best of my ability. Whatever he said, and +whatever he did, I knew he was going as straight as man could go +to his own death by my hands. + +"The rats and mice were all over the house, and the place +generally was out of repair. He ought to have begun on the +kitchen-floor; but (having sentence pronounced against him) he +began in the empty parlors on the ground-floor. + +"These parlors were separated by what is called a +'lath-and-plaster wall.' The rats had damaged it. At one part +they had gnawed through and spoiled the paper, at another part +they had not got so far. The landlord's orders were to spare the +paper, because he had some by him to match it. My husband began +at a place where the paper was whole. Under his directions I +mixed up--I won't say what. With the help of it he got the paper +loose from the wall, without injuring it in any way, in a long +hanging strip. Under it was the plaster and the laths, gnawed +away in places by the rats. Though strictly a paperhanger by +trade, he could be plasterer too when he liked. I saw how he cut +away the rotten laths and ripped off the plaster; and (under his +directions again) I mixed up the new plaster he wanted, and +handed him the new laths, and saw how he set them. I won't say a +word about how this was done either. + +"I have a reason for keeping silence here, which is, to my mind, +a very dreadful one. In every thing that my husband made me do +that day he was showing me (blindfold) the way to kill him, so +that no living soul, in the police or out of it, could suspect me +of the deed. + +"We finished the job on the wall just before dark. I went to my +cup of tea, and he went to his bottle of gin. + +"I left him, drinking hard, to put our two bedrooms tidy for the +night. The place that his bed happened to be set in (which I had +never remarked particularly before) seemed, in a manner of +speaking, to force itself on my notice now. + +"The head of the bedstead was set against the wall which divided +his room from mine. From looking at the bedstead I got to looking +at the wall next. Then to wondering what it was made of. Then to +rapping against it with my knuckles. The sound told me there was +nothing but lath and plaster under the paper. It was the same as +the wall we had been at work on down stairs. We had cleared our +way so far through this last--in certain places where the repairs +were most needed--that we had to be careful not to burst through +the paper in the room on the other side. I found myself calling +to mind the caution my husband had given me while we were at this +part of the work, word for word as he had spoken it. _'Take care +you don't find your hands in the next room.'_ That was what he +had said down in the parlor. Up in his bedroom I kept on +repeating it in my own mind--with my eyes all the while on the +key, which he had moved to the inner side of the door to lock +himself in--till the knowledge of what it meant burst on me like +a flash of light. I looked at the wall, at the bedhead, at my own +two hands--and I shivered as if it was winter time. + +"Hours must have passed like minutes while I was up stairs that +night. I lost all count of time. When my husband came up from his +drinking, he found me in his room. + +10. + +"I leave the rest untold, and pass on purposely to the next +morning. + +"No mortal eyes but mine will ever see these lines. Still, there +are things a woman can't write of even to herself. I shal l only +say this. I suffered the last and worst of many indignities at my +husband's hands--at the very time when I first saw, set plainly +before me, the way to take his life. He went out toward noon next +day, to go his rounds among the public houses; my mind being then +strung up to deliver myself from him, for good and all, when he +came back at night. + +"The things we had used on the previous day were left in the +parlor. I was all by myself in the house, free to put in practice +the lesson he had taught me. I proved myself an apt scholar. +Before the lamps were lit in the street I had my own way prepared +(in my bedroom and in his) for laying my own hands on him--after +he had locked himself up for the night. + +"I don't remember feeling either fear or doubt through all those +hours. I sat down to my bit of supper with no better and no worse +an appetite than usual. The only change in me that I can call to +mind was that I felt a singular longing to have somebody with me +to keep me company. Having no friend to ask in, I went to the +street door and stood looking at the people passing this way and +that. + +"A stray dog, sniffing about, came up to me. Generally I dislike +dogs and beasts of all kinds. I called this one in and gave him +his supper. He had been taught (I suppose) to sit up on his +hind-legs and beg for food; at any rate, that was his way of +asking me for more. I laughed--it seems impossible when I look +back at it now, but for all that it's true--I laughed till the +tears ran down my cheeks, at the little beast on his haunches, +with his ears pricked up and his head on one side and his mouth +watering for the victuals. I wonder whether I was in my right +senses? I don't know. + +"When the dog had got all he could get he whined to be let out to +roam the streets again. + +"As I opened the door to let the creature go his ways, I saw my +husband crossing the road to come in. 'Keep out' (I says to him); +'to-night, of all nights, keep out.' He was too drunk to heed me; +he passed by, and blundered his way up stairs. I followed and +listened. I heard him open his door, and bang it to, and lock it. +I waited a bit, and went up another stair or two. I heard him +drop down on to his bed. In a minute more he was fast asleep and +snoring. + +"It had all happened as it was wanted to happen. In two +minutes--without doing one single thing to bring suspicion on +myself--I could have smothered him. I went into my own room. I +took up the towel that I had laid ready. I was within an inch of +it--when there came a rush of something up into my head. I can't +say what it was. I can only say the horrors laid hold of me and +hunted me then and there out of the house. + +"I put on my bonnet, and slipped the key of the street door into +my pocket. It was only half past nine--or maybe a quarter to ten. +If I had any one clear notion in my head, it was the notion of +running away, and never allowing myself to set eyes on the house +or the husband more. + +"I went up the street--and came back. I went down the street--and +came back. I tried it a third time, and went round and round and +round--and came back. It was not to be done The house held me +chained to it like a dog to his kennel. I couldn't keep away from +it. For the life of me, I couldn't keep away from it. + +"A company of gay young men and women passed me, just as I was +going to let myself in again. They were in a great hurry. 'Step +out,' says one of the men; 'the theatre's close by, and we shall +be just in time for the farce.' I turned about and followed them. +Having been piously brought up, I had never been inside a theatre +in my life. It struck me that I might get taken, as it were, out +of myself, if I saw something that was quite strange to me, and +heard something which would put new thoughts into my mind. + +"They went in to the pit; and I went in after them. + +"The thing they called the farce had begun. Men and women came on +to the stage, turn and turn about, and talked, and went off +again. Before long all the people about me in the pit were +laughing and clapping their hands. The noise they made angered +me. I don't know how to describe the state I was in. My eyes +wouldn't serve me, and my ears wouldn't serve me, to see and to +hear what the rest of them were seeing and hearing. There must +have been something, I fancy, in my mind that got itself between +me and what was going on upon the stage. The play looked fair +enough on the surface; but there was danger and death at the +bottom of it. The players were talking and laughing to deceive +the people--with murder in their minds all the time. And nobody +knew it but me--and my tongue was tied when I tried to tell the +others. I got up, and ran out. The moment I was in the street my +steps turned back of themselves on the way to the house. I called +a cab, and told the man to drive (as far as a shilling would take +me) the opposite way. He put me down--I don't know where. Across +the street I saw an inscription in letters of flame over an open +door. The man said it was a dancing-place. Dancing was as new to +me as play-going. I had one more shilling left; and I paid to go +in, and see what a sight of the dancing would do for me. The +light from the ceiling poured down in this place as if it was all +on fire. The crashing of the music was dreadful. The whirling +round and round of men and women in each other's arms was quite +maddening to see. I don't know what happened to me here. The +great blaze of light from the ceiling turned blood-red on a +sudden. The man standing in front of the musicians waving a stick +took the likeness of Satan, as seen in the picture in our family +Bible at home. The whirling men and women went round and round, +with white faces like the faces of the dead, and bodies robed in +winding-sheets. I screamed out with the terror of it; and some +person took me by the arm and put me outside the door. The +darkness did me good: it was comforting and delicious--like a +cool hand laid on a hot head. I went walking on through it, +without knowing where; composing my mind with the belief that I +had lost my way, and that I should find myself miles distant from +home when morning dawned. After some time I got too weary to go +on; and I sat me down to rest on a door-step. I dozed a bit, and +woke up. When I got on my feet to go on again, I happened to turn +my head toward the door of the house. The number on it was the +same number an as ours. I looked again. And behold, it was our +steps I had been resting on. The door was our door. + +"All my doubts and all my struggles dropped out of my mind when I +made that discovery. There was no mistaking what this perpetual +coming back to the house meant. Resist it as I might, it was to +be. + +"I opened the street door and went up stairs, and heard him +sleeping his heavy sleep, exactly as I had heard him when I went +out. I sat down on my bed and took off my bonnet, quite quiet in +myself, because I knew it was to be. I damped the towel, and put +it ready, and took a turn in the room. + +"It was just the dawn of day. The sparrows were chirping among +the trees in the square hard by. + +"I drew up my blind; the faint light spoke to me as if in words, +'Do it now, before I get brighter, and show too much.' + +"I listened. The friendly silence had a word for me too: 'Do it +now, and trust the secret to Me.' + +"I waited till the church clock chimed before striking the hour. +At the first stroke--without touching the lock of his door, +without setting foot in his room--I had the towel over his face. +Before the last stroke he had ceased struggling. When the hum of +the bell through the morning silence was still and dead, _he_ was +still and dead with it. + +11. + +"The rest of this history is counted in my mind by four +days--Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday. After that it all +fades off like, and the new years come with a strange look, being +the years of a new life. + +"What about the old life first? What did I feel, in the horrid +quiet of the morning, when I had done it? + +"I don't know what I felt. I can't remember it, or I can't tell +it, I don't know which. I can write the history of the four days, +and that's all. + +"Wednesday.--I gave the alarm toward noon. Hours before, I had +put things straight and fit to be seen. I had only to call for +help, and to leave the people to do as they pleased. The +neighbors came in, and then the police. They knocked, uselessly, +at his door. Then they broke it open, and found him dead in his +bed. + +"Not the ghost of a suspicion of me entered the mind of any one. +There was no fear of human justice finding me out: my one +unutterable dread was dread of an Avenging Providence. + +I had a short sleep that night, and a dream, in which I did the +deed over again. For a time my mind was busy with thoughts of +confessing to the police, and of giving myself up. If I had not +belonged to a respectable family, I should have done it. From +generation to generation there had been no stain on our good +name. It would be death to my father, and disgrace to all my +family, if I owned what I had done, and suffered for it on the +public scaffold. I prayed to be guided; and I had a revelation, +toward morning, of what to do. + +"I was commanded, in a vision, to open the Bible, and vow on it +to set my guilty self apart among my innocent fellow-creatures +from that day forth; to live among them a separate and silent +life, to dedicate the use of my speech to the language of prayer +only, offered up in the solitude of my own chamber when no human +ear could hear me. Alone, in the morning, I saw the vision, and +vowed the vow. No human ear _has_ heard me from that time. No +human ear _will_ hear me, to the day of my death. + +"Thursday.--The people came to speak to me, as usual. They found +me dumb. + +"What had happened to me in the past, when my head had been hurt, +and my speech affected by it, gave a likelier look to my dumbness +than it might have borne in the case of another person. They took +me back again to the hospital. The doctors were divided in +opinion. Some said the shock of what had taken place in the +house, coming on the back of the other shock, might, for all they +knew, have done the mischief. And others said, 'She got her +speech again after the accident; there has been no new injury +since that time; the woman is shamming dumb, for some purpose of +her own.' I let them dispute it as they liked. All human talk was +nothing now to me. I had set myself apart among my +fellow-creatures; I had begun my separate and silent life. + +"Through all this time the sense of a coming punishment hanging +over me never left my mind. I had nothing to dread from human +justice. The judgment of an Avenging Providence--there was what I +was waiting for. + +"Friday--They held the inquest. He had been known for years past +as an inveterate drunkard, he had been seen overnight going home +in liquor; he had been found locked up in his room, with the key +inside the door, and the latch of the window bolted also. No +fire-place was in this garret; nothing was disturbed or altered: +nobody by human possibility could have got in. The doctor +reported that he had died of congestion of the lungs; and the +jury gave their verdict accordingly. + +12. + +"Saturday.--Marked forever in my calendar as the memorable day on +which the judgment descended on me. Toward three o'clock in the +afternoon--in the broad sunlight, under the cloudless sky, with +hundreds of innocent human creatures all around me--I, Hester +Dethridge, saw, for the first time, the Appearance which is +appointed to haunt me for the rest of my life. + +"I had had a terrible night. My mind felt much as it had felt on +the evening when I had gone to the play. I went out to see what +the air and the sunshine and the cool green of trees and grass +would do for me. The nearest place in which I could find what I +wanted was the Regent's Park. I went into one of the quiet walks +in the middle of the park, where the horses and carriages are not +allowed to go, and where old people can sun themselves, and +children play, without danger. + +"I sat me down to rest on a bench. Among the children near me was +a beautiful little boy, playing with a brand-new toy--a horse and +wagon. While I was watching him busily plucking up the blades of +grass and loading his wagon with them, I felt for the first +time--what I have often and often felt since--a creeping chill +come slowly over my flesh, and then a suspicion of something +hidden near me, which would steal out and show itself if I looked +that way. + +"There was a big tree hard by. I looked toward the tree, and +waited to see the something hidden appear from behind it. + +"The Thing stole out, dark and shadowy in the pleasant sunlight. +At first I saw only the dim figure of a woman. After a little it +began to get plainer, brightening from within +outward--brightening, brightening, brightening, till it set +before me the vision of MY OWN SELF, repeated as if I was +standing before a glass--the double of myself, looking at me with +my own eyes. I saw it move over the grass. I saw it stop behind +the beautiful little boy. I saw it stand and listen, as I had +stood and listened at the dawn of morning, for the chiming of the +bell before the clock struck the hour. When it heard the stroke +it pointed down to the boy with my own hand; and it said to me, +with my own voice, 'Kill him.' + +"A time passed. I don't know whether it was a minute or an hour. +The heavens and the earth disappeared from before me. I saw +nothing but the double of myself, with the pointing hand. I felt +nothing but the longing to kill the boy. + +"Then, as it seemed, the heavens and the earth rushed back upon +me. I saw the people near staring in surprise at me, and +wondering if I was in my right mind. + +"I got, by main force, to my feet; I looked, by main force, away +from the beautiful boy; I escaped, by main force, from the sight +of the Thing, back into the streets. I can only describe the +overpowering strength of the temptation that tried me in one way. +It was like tearing the life out of me to tear myself from +killing the boy. And what it was on this occasion it has been +ever since. No remedy against it but in that torturing effort, +and no quenching the after-agony but by solitude and prayer. + +"The sense of a coming punishment had hung over me. And the +punishment had come. I had waited for the judgment of an Avenging +Providence. And the judgment was pronounced. With pious David I +could now say, Thy fierce wrath goeth over me; thy terrors have +cut me off." + + -------- + +Arrived at that point in the narrative, Geoffrey looked up from +the manuscript for the first time. Some sound outside the room +had disturbed him. Was it a sound in the passage? + +He listened. There was an interval of silence. He looked back +again at the Confession, turning over the last leaves to count +how much was left of it before it came to an end. + +After relating the circumstances under which the writer had +returned to domestic service, the narrative was resumed no more. +Its few remaining pages were occupied by a fragmentary journal. +The brief entries referred to the various occasions on which +Hester Dethridge had again and again seen the terrible apparition +of herself, and had again and again resisted the homicidal frenzy +roused in her by the hideous creation of her own distempered +brain. In the effort which that resistance cost her lay the +secret of her obstinate determination to insist on being freed +from her work at certain times, and to make it a condition with +any mistress who employed her that she should be privileged to +sleep in a room of her own at night. Having counted the pages +thus filled, Geoffrey turned back to the place at which he had +left off, to read the manuscript through to the end. + +As his eyes rested on the first line the noise in the +passage--intermitted for a moment only--disturbed him again. + +This time there was no doubt of what the sound implied. He heard +her hurried footsteps; he heard her dreadful cry. Hester +Dethridge had woke in her chair in the pallor, and had discovered +that the Confession was no longer in her own hands. + +He put the manuscript into the breast-pocket of his coat. On +_this_ occasion his reading had been of some use to him. Needless +to go on further with it. Needless to return to the Newgate +Calendar. The problem was solved. + +As he rose to his feet his heavy face brightened slowly with a +terrible smile. While the woman's Conf ession was in his pocket +the woman herself was in his power. "If she wants it back," he +said, "she must get it on my terms." With that resolution, he +opened the door, and met Hester Dethridge, face to face, in the +passage. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FIFTH. + +THE SIGNS OF THE END. + +THE servant, appearing the next morning in Anne's room with the +breakfast tray, closed the door with an air of mystery, and +announced that strange things were going on in the house. + +"Did you hear nothing last night, ma'am," she asked, "down stairs +in the passage?" + +"I thought I heard some voices whispering outside my room," Anne +replied. "Has any thing happened?" + +Extricated from the confusion in which she involved it, the +girl's narrative amounted in substance to this. She had been +startled by the sudden appearance of her mistress in the passage, +staring about her wildly, like a woman who had gone out of her +senses. Almost at the same moment "the master" had flung open the +drawing-room door. He had caught Mrs. Dethridge by the arm, had +dragged her into the room, and had closed the door again. After +the two had remained shut up together for more than half an hour, +Mrs. Dethridge had come out, as pale as ashes, and had gone up +stairs trembling like a person in great terror. Some time later, +when the servant was in bed, but not asleep, she had seen a light +under her door, in the narrow wooden passage which separated +Anne's bedroom from Hester's bedroom, and by which she obtained +access to her own little sleeping-chamber beyond. She had got out +of bed; had looked through the keyhole; and had seen "the master" +and Mrs. Dethridge standing together examining the walls of the +passage. "The master" had laid his hand upon the wall, on the +side of his wife's room, and had looked at Mrs. Dethridge. And +Mrs. Dethridge had looked back at him, and had shaken her head. +Upon that he had said in a whisper (still with his hand on the +wooden wall), "Not to be done here?" And Mrs. Dethridge had +shaken her head. He had considered a moment, and had whispered +again, "The other room will do! won't it?" And Mrs. Dethridge had +nodded her head--and so they had parted. That was the story of +the night. Early in the morning, more strange things had +happened. The master had gone out, with a large sealed packet in +his hand, covered with many stamps; taking his own letter to the +post, instead of sending the servant with it as usual. On his +return, Mrs. Dethridge had gone out next, and had come back with +something in a jar which she had locked up in her own +sitting-room. Shortly afterward, a working-man had brought a +bundle of laths, and some mortar and plaster of Paris, which had +been carefully placed together in a corner of the scullery. Last, +and most remarkable in the series of domestic events, the girl +had received permission to go home and see her friends in the +country, on that very day; having been previously informed, when +she entered Mrs. Dethridge's service, that she was not to expect +to have a holiday granted to her until after Christmas. Such were +the strange things which had happened in the house since the +previous night. What was the interpretation to be placed on them? + +The right interpretation was not easy to discover. + +Some of the events pointed apparently toward coming repairs or +alterations in the cottage. But what Geoffrey could have to do +with them (being at the time served with a notice to quit), and +why Hester Dethridge should have shown the violent agitation +which had been described, were mysteries which it was impossible +to penetrate. + +Anne dismissed the girl with a little present and a few kind +words. Under other circumstances, the incomprehensible +proceedings in the house might have made her seriously uneasy. +But her mind was now occupied by more pressing anxieties. +Blanche's second letter (received from Hester Dethridge on the +previous evening) informed her that Sir Patrick persisted in his +resolution, and that he and his niece might be expected, come +what might of it, to present themselves at the cottage on that +day. + +Anne opened the letter, and looked at it for the second time. The +passages relating to Sir Patrick were expressed in these terms: + +"I don't think, darling, you have any idea of the interest that +you have roused in my uncle. Although he has not to reproach +himself, as I have, with being the miserable cause of the +sacrifice that you have made, he is quite as wretched and quite +as anxious about you as I am. We talk of nobody else. He said +last night that he did not believe there was your equal in the +world. Think of that from a man who has such terribly sharp eyes +for the faults of women in general, and such a terribly sharp +tongue in talking of them! I am pledged to secrecy; but I must +tell you one other thing, between ourselves. Lord Holchester's +announcement that his brother refuses to consent to a separation +put my uncle almost beside himself. If there is not some change +for the better in your life in a few days' time, Sir Patrick will +find out a way of his own--lawful or not, he doesn't care--for +rescuing you from the dreadful position in which you are placed, +and Arnold (with my full approval) will help him. As we +understand it, you are, under one pretense or another, kept a +close prisoner. Sir Patrick has already secured a post of +observation near you. He and Arnold went all round the cottage +last night, and examined a door in your back garden wall, with a +locksmith to help them. You will no doubt hear further about this +from Sir Patrick himself. Pray don't appear to know any thing of +it when you see him! I am not in his confidence--but Arnold is, +which comes to the same thing exactly. You will see us (I mean +you will see my uncle and me) to-morrow, in spite of the brute +who keeps you under lock and key. Arnold will not accompany us; +he is not to be trusted (he owns it himself) to control his +indignation. Courage, dearest! There are two people in the world +to whom you are inestimably precious, and who are determined not +to let your happiness be sacrificed. I am one of them, and (for +Heaven's sake keep this a secret also!) Sir Patrick is the +other." + +Absorbed in the letter, and in the conflict of opposite feelings +which it roused--her color rising when it turned her thoughts +inward on herself, and fading again when she was reminded by it +of the coming visit--Anne was called back to a sense of present +events by the reappearance of the servant, charged with a +message. Mr. Speedwell had been for some time in the cottage, and +he was now waiting to see her down stairs. + +Anne found the surgeon alone in the drawing-room. He apologized +for disturbing her at that early hour. + +"It was impossible for me to get to Fulham yesterday," he said, +"and I could only make sure of complying with Lord Holchester's +request by coming here before the time at which I receive +patients at home. I have seen Mr. Delamayn, and I have requested +permission to say a word to you on the subject of his health." + +Anne looked through the window, and saw Geoffrey smoking his +pipe--not in the back garden, as usual, but in front of the +cottage, where he could keep his eye on the gate. + +"Is he ill?" she asked. + +"He is seriously ill," answered Mr. Speedwell. "I should not +otherwise have troubled you with this interview. It is a matter +of professional duty to warn you, as his wife, that he is in +danger. He may be seized at any moment by a paralytic stroke. The +only chance for him--a very poor one, I am bound to say--is to +make him alter his present mode of life without loss of time." + +"In one way he will be obliged to alter it," said Anne. "He has +received notice from the landlady to quit this cottage." + +Mr. Speedwell looked surprised. + +"I think you will find that the notice has been withdrawn," he +said. "I can only assure you that Mr. Delamayn distinctly +informed me, when I advised change of air, that he had decided, +for reasons of his own, on remaining here." + +(Another in the series of incomprehensible domestic events! +Hester Dethridge--on all other occasions the most immovable of +women--had changed her mind!) + +"Setting that aside," proceeded the surgeon, "there are two +preventive measures which I feel bound to suggest. Mr. Delamayn +is evidently suffering (though he declines to admit it himself) +from mental anxiety. If he is to have a chance for his life, that +anxiety must be set at rest. Is it in your power to relieve it?" + +"It is not even in my power, Mr. Speedwell, to tell you what it +is." + +The surgeon bowed, and went on: + +"The second caution that I have to give you," he said, "is to +keep him from drinking spirits. He admits having committed an +excess in that way the night before last. In his state of health, +drinking means literally death. If he goes back to the +brandy-bottle--forgive me for saying it plainly; the matter is +too serious to be trifled with--if he goes back to the +brandy-bottle, his life, in my opinion, is not worth five +minutes' purchase. Can you keep him from drinking?" + +Anne answered sadly and plainly: + +"I have no influence over him. The terms we are living on here--" + +Mr. Speedwell considerately stopped her. + +"I understand," he said. "I will see his brother on my way home." +He looked for a moment at Anne. "You are far from well yourself," +he resumed. "Can I do any thing for you?" + +"While I am living my present life, Mr. Speedwell, not even your +skill can help me." + +The surgeon took his leave. Anne hurried back up stairs, before +Geoffrey could re-enter the cottage. To see the man who had laid +her life waste--to meet the vindictive hatred that looked +furtively at her out of his eyes--at the moment when sentence of +death had been pronounced on him, was an ordeal from which every +finer instinct in her nature shrank in horror. + +Hour by hour, the morning wore on, and he made no attempt to +communicate with her, Stranger still, Hester Dethridge never +appeared. The servant came up stairs to say goodby; and went away +for her holiday. Shortly afterward, certain sounds reached Anne's +ears from the opposite side of the passage. She heard the strokes +of a hammer, and then a noise as of some heavy piece of furniture +being moved. The mysterious repairs were apparently being begun +in the spare room. + +She went to the window. The hour was approaching at which Sir +Patrick and Blanche might be expected to make the attempt to see +her. + +For the third time, she looked at the letter. + +It suggested, on this occasion, a new consideration to her. Did +the strong measures which Sir Patrick had taken in secret +indicate alarm as well as sympathy? Did he believe she was in a +position in which the protection of the law was powerless to +reach her? It seemed just possible. Suppose she were free to +consult a magistrate, and to own to him (if words could express +it) the vague presentiment of danger which was then present in +her mind--what proof could she produce to satisfy the mind of a +stranger? The proofs were all in her husband's favor. Witnesses +could testify to the conciliatory words which he had spoken to +her in their presence. The evidence of his mother and brother +would show that he had preferred to sacrifice his own pecuniary +interests rather than consent to part with her. She could furnish +nobody with the smallest excuse, in her case, for interfering +between man and wife. Did Sir Patrick see this? And did Blanche's +description of what he and Arnold Brinkworth were doing point to +the conclusion that they were taking the law into their own hands +in despair? The more she thought of it, the more likely it +seemed. + +She was still pursuing the train of thought thus suggested, when +the gate-bell rang. + +The noises in the spare room suddenly stopped. + +Anne looked out. The roof of a carriage was visible on the other +side of the wall. Sir Patrick and Blanche had arrived. After an +interval Hester Dethridge appeared in the garden, and went to the +grating in the gate. Anne heard Sir Patrick's voice, clear and +resolute. Every word he said reached her ears through the open +window. + +"Be so good as to give my card to Mr. Delamayn. Say that I bring +him a message from Holchester House, and that I can only deliver +it at a personal interview." + +Hester Dethridge returned to the cottage. Another, and a longer +interval elapsed. At the end of the time, Geoffrey himself +appeared in the front garden, with the key in his hand. Anne's +heart throbbed fast as she saw him unlock the gate, and asked +herself what was to follow. + +To her unutterable astonishment, Geoffrey admitted Sir Patrick +without the slightest hesitation--and, more still, he invited +Blanche to leave the carriage and come in! + +"Let by-gones be by-gones," Anne heard him say to Sir Patrick. "I +only want to do the right thing. If it's the right thing for +visitors to come here, so soon after my father's death, come, and +welcome. My own notion was, when you proposed it before, that it +was wrong. I am not much versed in these things. I leave it to +you." + +"A visitor who brings you messages from your mother and your +brother," Sir Patrick answered gravely, "is a person whom it is +your duty to admit, Mr. Delamayn, under any circumstances." + +"And he ought to be none the less welcome," added Blanche, "when +he is accompanied by your wife's oldest and dearest friend." + +Geoffrey looked, in stolid submission, from one to the other. + +"I am not much versed in these things," he repeated. "I have said +already, I leave it to you." + +They were by this time close under Anne's window. She showed +herself. Sir Patrick took off his hat. Blanche kissed her hand +with a cry of joy, and attempted to enter the cottage. Geoffrey +stopped her--and called to his wife to come down. + +"No! no!" said Blanche. "Let me go up to her in her room." + +She attempted for the second time to gain the stairs. For the +second time Geoffrey stopped her. "Don't trouble yourself," he +said; "she is coming down." + +Anne joined them in the front garden. Blanche flew into her arms +and devoured her with kisses. Sir Patrick took her hand in +silence. For the first time in Anne's experience of him, the +bright, resolute, self-reliant old man was, for the moment, at a +loss what to say, at a loss what to do. His eyes, resting on her +in mute sympathy and interest, said plainly, "In your husband's +presence I must not trust myself to speak." + +Geoffrey broke the silence. + +"Will you go into the drawing-room?" he asked, looking with +steady attention at his wife and Blanche. + +Geoffrey's voice appeared to rouse Sir Patrick. He raised his +head--he looked like himself again. + +"Why go indoors this lovely weather?" he said. "Suppose we take a +turn in the garden?" + +Blanche pressed Anne's hand significantly. The proposal was +evidently made for a purpose. They turned the corner of the +cottage and gained the large garden at the back--the two ladies +walking together, arm in arm; Sir Patrick and Geoffrey following +them. Little by little, Blanche quickened her pace. "I have got +my instructions," she whispered to Anne. "Let's get out of his +hearing." + +It was more easily said than done. Geoffrey kept close behind +them. + +"Consider my lameness, Mr. Delamayn," said Sir Patrick. "Not +quite so fast." + +It was well intended. But Geoffrey's cunning had taken the alarm. +Instead of dropping behind with Sir Patrick, he called to his +wife. + +"Consider Sir Patrick's lameness," he repeated. "Not quite so +fast." + +Sir Patrick met that check with characteristic readiness. When +Anne slackened her pace, he addressed himself to Geoffrey, +stopping deliberately in the middle of the path. "Let me give you +my message from Holchester House," he said. The two ladies were +still slowly walking on. Geoffrey was placed between the +alternatives of staying with Sir Patrick and leaving them by +themselves--or of following them and leaving Sir Patrick. +Deliberately, on his side, he followed the ladies. + +Sir Patrick called him back. "I told you I wished to speak to +you," he said, sharply. + +Driven to bay, Geoffrey openly revealed his resolution to give +Blanche no opportunity of speaking in private to Anne. He called +to Anne to stop. + +"I have no secrets from my wife," he said. "And I expect my wife +to have no secrets from me. Give me the message in her hearing." + +Sir Patrick's eyes brightened with indignation. He controlled +himself, and looked for an instant significantly at his niece +before he spoke to Geoffrey. + +"As you please ," he said. "Your brother requests me to tell you +that the duties of the new position in which he is placed occupy +the whole of his time, and will prevent him from returning to +Fulham, as he had proposed, for some days to come. Lady +Holchester, hearing that I was likely to see you, has charged me +with another message, from herself. She is not well enough to +leave home; and she wishes to see you at Holchester House +to-morrow--accompanied (as she specially desires) by Mrs. +Delamayn." + +In giving the two messages, he gradually raised his voice to a +louder tone than usual. While he was speaking, Blanche (warned to +follow her instructions by the glance her uncle had cast at her) +lowered her voice, and said to Anne: + +"He won't consent to the separation as long as he has got you +here. He is trying for higher terms. Leave him, and he must +submit. Put a candle in your window, if you can get into the +garden to-night. If not, any other night. Make for the back gate +in the wall. Sir Patrick and Arnold will manage the rest." + +She slipped those words into Anne's ears--swinging her parasol to +and fro, and looking as if the merest gossip was dropping from +her lips--with the dexterity which rarely fails a woman when she +is called on to assist a deception in which her own interests are +concerned. Cleverly as it had been done, however, Geoffrey's +inveterate distrust was stirred into action by it. Blanche had +got to her last sentence before he was able to turn his attention +from what Sir Patrick was saying to what his niece was saying. A +quicker man would have heard more. Geoffrey had only distinctly +heard the first half of the last sentence. + +"What's that," he asked, "about Sir Patrick and Arnold?" + +"Nothing very interesting to you," Blanche answered, readily. "I +will repeat it if you like. I was telling Anne about my +step-mother, Lady Lundie. After what happened that day in +Portland Place, she has requested Sir Patrick and Arnold to +consider themselves, for the future, as total strangers to her. +That's all." + +"Oh!" said Geoffrey, eying her narrowly. + +"Ask my uncle," returned Blanche, "if you don't believe that I +have reported her correctly. She gave us all our dismissal, in +her most magnificent manner, and in those very words. Didn't she, +Sir Patrick?" + +It was perfectly true. Blanche's readiness of resource had met +the emergency of the moment by describing something, in +connection with Sir Patrick and Arnold, which had really +happened. Silenced on one side, in spite of himself, Geoffrey was +at the same moment pressed on the other for an answer to his +mother's message. + +"I must take your reply to Lady Holchester, " said Sir Patrick. +"What is it to be?" + +Geoffrey looked hard at him, without making any reply. + +Sir Patrick repeated the message--with a special emphasis on that +part of it which related to Anne. The emphasis roused Geoffrey's +temper. + +"You and my mother have made that message up between you, to try +me!" he burst out. "Damn all underhand work is what _I_ say!" + +"I am waiting for your answer," persisted Sir Patrick, steadily +ignoring the words which had just been addressed to him. + +Geoffrey glanced at Anne, and suddenly recovered himself. + +"My love to my mother," he said. "I'll go to her to-morrow--and +take my wife with me, with the greatest pleasure. Do you hear +that? With the greatest pleasure." He stopped to observe the +effect of his reply. Sir Patrick waited impenetrably to hear +more--if he had more to say. "I'm sorry I lost my temper just +now," he resumed "I am badly treated--I'm distrusted without a +cause. I ask you to bear witness," he added, his voice getting +louder again, while his eyes moved uneasily backward and forward +between Sir Patrick and Anne, "that I treat my wife as becomes a +lady. Her friend calls on her--and she's free to receive her +friend. My mother wants to see her--and I promise to take her to +my mother's. At two o'clock to-morrow. Where am I to blame? You +stand there looking at me, and saying nothing. Where am I to +blame?" + +"If a man's own conscience justifies him, Mr. Delamayn," said Sir +Patrick, "the opinions of others are of very little importance. +My errand here is performed." + +As he turned to bid Anne farewell, the uneasiness that he felt at +leaving her forced its way to view. The color faded out of his +face. His hand trembled as it closed tenderly and firmly on hers. +"I shall see you to-morrow, at Holchester House," he said; giving +his arm while he spoke to Blanche. He took leave of Geoffrey, +without looking at him again, and without seeing his offered +hand. In another minute they were gone. + +Anne waited on the lower floor of the cottage while Geoffrey +closed and locked the gate. She had no wish to appear to avoid +him, after the answer that he had sent to his mother's message. +He returned slowly half-way across the front garden, looked +toward the passage in which she was standing, passed before the +door, and disappeared round the corner of the cottage on his way +to the back garden. The inference was not to be mistaken. It was +Geoffrey who was avoiding _her._ Had he lied to Sir Patrick? When +the next day came would he find reasons of his own for refusing +to take her to Holchester House? + +She went up stairs. At the same moment Hester Dethridge opened +her bedroom door to come out. Observing Anne, she closed it again +and remained invisible in her room. Once more the inference was +not to be mistaken. Hester Dethridge, also, had her reasons for +avoiding Anne. + +What did it mean? What object could there be in common between +Hester and Geoffrey? + +There was no fathoming the meaning of it. Anne's thoughts +reverted to the communication which had been secretly made to her +by Blanche. It was not in womanhood to be insensible to such +devotion as Sir Patrick's conduct implied. Terrible as her +position had become in its ever-growing uncertainty, in its +never-ending suspense, the oppression of it yielded for the +moment to the glow of pride and gratitude which warmed her heart, +as she thought of the sacrifices that had been made, of the +perils that were still to be encountered, solely for her sake. To +shorten the period of suspense seemed to be a duty which she owed +to Sir Patrick, as well as to herself. Why, in her situation, +wait for what the next day might bring forth? If the opportunity +offered, she determined to put the signal in the window that +night. + +Toward evening she heard once more the noises which appeared to +indicate that repairs of some sort were going on in the house. +This time the sounds were fainter; and they came, as she fancied, +not from the spare room, as before, but from Geoffrey's room, +next to it. + +The dinner was later than usual that day. Hester Dethridge did +not appear with the tray till dusk. Anne spoke to her, and +received a mute sign in answer. Determined to see the woman's +face plainly, she put a question which required a written answer +on the slate; and, telling Hester to wait, went to the +mantle-piece to light her candle. When she turned round with the +lighted candle in her hand, Hester was gone. + +Night came. She rang her bell to have the tray taken away. The +fall of a strange footstep startled her outside her door. She +called out, "Who's there?" The voice of the lad whom Geoffrey +employed to go on errands for him answered her. + +"What do you want here?" she asked, through the door. + +"Mr. Delamayn sent me up, ma'am. He wishes to speak to you +directly." + +Anne found Geoffrey in the dining-room. His object in wishing to +speak to her was, on the surface of it, trivial enough. He wanted +to know how she would prefer going to Holchester House on the +next day--by the railway, or in a carriage. "If you prefer +driving," he said, "the boy has come here for orders, and he can +tell them to send a carriage from the livery-stables, as he goes +home." + +"The railway will do perfectly well for me," Anne replied. + +Instead of accepting the answer, and dropping the subject, he +asked her to reconsider her decision. There was an absent, uneasy +expression in his eye as he begged her not to consult economy at +the expense of her own comfort. He appeared to have some reason +of his own for preventing her from leaving the room. "Sit d own a +minute, and think before you decide," he said. Having forced her +to take a chair, he put his head outside the door and directed +the lad to go up stairs, and see if he had left his pipe in his +bedroom. "I want you to go in comfort, as a lady should," he +repeated, with the uneasy look more marked than ever. Before Anne +could reply, the lad's voice reached them from the bedroom floor, +raised in shrill alarm, and screaming "Fire!" + +Geoffrey ran up stairs. Anne followed him. The lad met them at +the top of the stairs. He pointed to the open door of Anne's +room. She was absolutely certain of having left her lighted +candle, when she went down to Geoffrey, at a safe distance from +the bed-curtains. The bed-curtains, nevertheless, were in a blaze +of fire. + +There was a supply of water to the cottage, on the upper floor. +The bedroom jugs and cans usually in their places at an earlier +hour, were standing that night at the cistern. An empty pail was +left near them. Directing the lad to bring him water from these +resources, Geoffrey tore down the curtains in a flaming heap, +partly on the bed and partly on the sofa near it. Using the can +and the pail alternately, as the boy brought them, he drenched +the bed and the sofa. It was all over in little more than a +minute. The cottage was saved. But the bed-furniture was +destroyed; and the room, as a matter of course, was rendered +uninhabitable, for that night at least, and probably for more +nights to come. + +Geoffrey set down the empty pail; and, turning to Anne, pointed +across the passage. + +"You won't be much inconvenienced by this," he said. "You have +only to shift your quarters to the spare room." + +With the assistance of the lad, he moved Anne's boxes, and the +chest of drawers, which had escaped damage, into the opposite +room. This done, he cautioned her to be careful with her candles +for the future--and went down stairs, without waiting to hear +what she said in reply. The lad followed him, and was dismissed +for the night. + +Even in the confusion which attended the extinguishing of the +fire, the conduct of Hester Dethridge had been remarkable enough +to force itself on the attention of Anne. + +She had come out from her bedroom, when the alarm was given; had +looked at the flaming curtains; and had drawn back, stolidly +submissive, into a corner to wait the event. There she had +stood--to all appearance, utterly indifferent to the possible +destruction of her own cottage. The fire extinguished, she still +waited impenetrably in her corner, while the chest of drawers and +the boxes were being moved--then locked the door, without even a +passing glance at the scorched ceiling and the burned +bed-furniture--put the key into her pocket--and went back to her +room. + +Anne had hitherto not shared the conviction felt by most other +persons who were brought into contact with Hester Dethridge, that +the woman's mind was deranged. After what she had just seen, +however, the general impression became her impression too. She +had thought of putting certain questions to Hester, when they +were left together, as to the origin of the fire. Reflection +decided her on saying nothing, for that night at least. She +crossed the passage, and entered the spare room--the room which +she had declined to occupy on her arrival at the cottage, and +which she was obliged to sleep in now. + +She was instantly struck by a change in the disposition of the +furniture of the room. + +The bed had been moved. The head--set, when she had last seen it, +against the side wall of the cottage--was placed now against the +partition wall which separated the room from Geoffrey's room. +This new arrangement had evidently been effected with a settled +purpose of some sort. The hook in the ceiling which supported the +curtains (the bed, unlike the bed in the other room, having no +canopy attached to it) had been moved so as to adapt itself to +the change that had been made. The chairs and the washhand-stand, +formerly placed against the partition wall, were now, as a matter +of necessity, shifted over to the vacant space against the side +wall of the cottage. For the rest, no other alteration was +visible in any part of the room. + +In Anne's situation, any event not immediately intelligible on +the face of it, was an event to be distrusted. Was there a motive +for the change in the position of the bed? And was it, by any +chance, a motive in which she was concerned? + +The doubt had barely occurred to her, before a startling +suspicion succeeded it. Was there some secret purpose to be +answered by making her sleep in the spare room? Did the question +which the servant had heard Geoffrey put to Hester, on the +previous night, refer to this? Had the fire which had so +unaccountably caught the curtains in her own room, been, by any +possibility, a fire purposely kindled, to force her out? + +She dropped into the nearest chair, faint with horror, as those +three questions forced themselves in rapid succession on her +mind. + +After waiting a little, she recovered self-possession enough to +recognize the first plain necessity of putting her suspicions to +the test. It was possible that her excited fancy had filled her +with a purely visionary alarm. For all she knew to the contrary, +there might be some undeniably sufficient reason for changing the +position of the bed. She went out, and knocked at the door of +Hester Dethridge's room. + +"I want to speak to you," she said. + +Hester came out. Anne pointed to the spare room, and led the way +to it. Hester followed her. + +"Why have you changed the place of the bed," she asked, "from the +wall there, to the wall here?" + +Stolidly submissive to the question, as she had been stolidly +submissive to the fire, Hester Dethridge wrote her reply. On all +other occasions she was accustomed to look the persons to whom +she offered her slate steadily in the face. Now, for the first +time, she handed it to Anne with her eyes on the floor. The one +line written contained no direct answer: the words were these: + +"I have meant to move it, for some time past." + +"I ask you why you have moved it." + +She wrote these four words on the slate: "The wall is damp." + +Anne looked at the wall. There was no sign of damp on the paper. +She passed her hand over it. Feel where she might, the wall was +dry. + +"That is not your reason," she said. + +Hester stood immovable. + +"There is no dampness in the wall." + +Hester pointed persistently with her pencil to the four words, +still without looking up--waited a moment for Anne to read them +again--and left the room. + +It was plainly useless to call her back. Anne's first impulse +when she was alone again was to secure the door. She not only +locked it, but bolted it at top and bottom. The mortise of the +lock and the staples of the bolts, when she tried them, were +firm. The lurking treachery--wherever else it might be--was not +in the fastenings of the door. + +She looked all round the room; examining the fire place, the +window and its shutters, the interior of the wardrobe, the hidden +space under the bed. Nothing was any where to be discovered which +could justify the most timid person living in feeling suspicion +or alarm. + +Appearances, fair as they were, failed to convince her. The +presentiment of some hidden treachery, steadily getting nearer +and nearer to her in the dark, had rooted itself firmly in her +mind. She sat down, and tried to trace her way back to the clew, +through the earlier events of the day. + +The effort was fruitless: nothing definite, nothing tangible, +rewarded it. Worse still, a new doubt grew out of it--a doubt +whether the motive which Sir Patrick had avowed (through Blanche) +was the motive for helping her which was really in his mind. + +Did he sincerely believe Geoffrey's conduct to be animated by no +worse object than a mercenary object? and was his only purpose in +planning to remove her out of her husband's reach, to force +Geoffrey's consent to their separation on the terms which Julius +had proposed? Was this really the sole end that he had in view? +or was he secretly convinced (knowing Anne's position as he knew +it) that she was in personal danger at the cottage? and had he +considerately kept that conviction concealed, in the fear that he +might otherwise e ncourage her to feel alarmed about herself? She +looked round the strange room, in the silence of the night, and +she felt that the latter interpretation was the likeliest +interpretation of the two. + +The sounds caused by the closing of the doors and windows reached +her from the ground-floor. What was to be done? + +It was impossible, to show the signal which had been agreed on to +Sir Patrick and Arnold. The window in which they expected to see +it was the window of the room in which the fire had broken +out--the room which Hester Dethridge had locked up for the night. + +It was equally hopeless to wait until the policeman passed on his +beat, and to call for help. Even if she could prevail upon +herself to make that open acknowledgment of distrust under her +husband's roof, and even if help was near, what valid reason +could she give for raising an alarm? There was not the shadow of +a reason to justify any one in placing her under the protection +of the law. + +As a last resource, impelled by her blind distrust of the change +in the position of the bed, she attempted to move it. The utmost +exertion of her strength did not suffice to stir the heavy piece +of furniture out of its place, by so much as a hair's breadth. + +There was no alternative but to trust to the security of the +locked and bolted door, and to keep watch through the +night--certain that Sir Patrick and Arnold were, on their part, +also keeping watch in the near neighborhood of the cottage. She +took out her work and her books; and returned to her chair, +placing it near the table, in the middle of the room. + +The last noises which told of life and movement about her died +away. The breathless stillness of the night closed round her. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SIXTH. + +THE MEANS. + +THE new day dawned; the sun rose; the household was astir again. +Inside the spare room, and outside the spare room, nothing had +happened. + +At the hour appointed for leaving the cottage to pay the promised +visit to Holchester House, Hester Dethridge and Geoffrey were +alone together in the bedroom in which Anne had passed the night. + +"She's dressed, and waiting for me in the front garden," said +Geoffrey. "You wanted to see me here alone. What is it?" + +Hester pointed to the bed. + +"You want it moved from the wall?" + +Hester nodded her head. + +They moved the bed some feet away from the partition wall. After +a momentary pause, Geoffrey spoke again. + +"It must be done to-night," he said. "Her friends may interfere; +the girl may come back. It must be done to-night." + +Hester bowed her head slowly. + +"How long do you want to be left by yourself in the house?" + +She held up three of her fingers. + +"Does that mean three hours?" + +She nodded her head. + +"Will it be done in that time?" + +She made the affirmative sign once more. + +Thus far, she had never lifted her eyes to his. In her manner of +listening to him when he spoke, in the slightest movement that +she made when necessity required it, the same lifeless submission +to him, the same mute horror of him, was expressed. He had, thus +far, silently resented this, on his side. On the point of leaving +the room the restraint which he had laid on himself gave way. For +the first time, he resented it in words. + +"Why the devil can't you look at me?" he asked + +She let the question pass, without a sign to show that she had +heard him. He angrily repeated it. She wrote on her slate, and +held it out to him--still without raising her eyes to his face. + +"You know you can speak," he said. "You know I have found you +out. What's the use of playing the fool with _me?_" + +She persisted in holding the slate before him. He read these +words: + +" I am dumb to you, and blind to you. Let me be." + +"Let you be!" he repeated. "It's a little late in the day to be +scrupulous, after what you have done. Do you want your Confession +back, or not?" + +As the reference to the Confession passed his lips, she raised +her head. A faint tinge of color showed itself on her livid +cheeks; a momentary spasm of pain stirred her deathlike face. The +one last interest left in the woman's life was the interest of +recovering the manuscript which had been taken from her. To +_that_ appeal the stunned intelligence still faintly +answered--and to no other. + +"Remember the bargain on your side," Geoffrey went on, "and I'll +remember the bargain on mine. This is how it stands, you know. I +have read your Confession; and I find one thing wanting. You +don't tell how it was done. I know you smothered him--but I don't +know how. I want to know. You're dumb; and you can't tell me. You +must do to the wall here what you did in the other house. You run +no risks. There isn't a soul to see you. You have got the place +to yourself. When I come back let me find this wall like the +other wall--at that small hour of the morning you know, when you +were waiting, with the towel in your hand, for the first stroke +of the clock. Let me find that; and to-morrow you shall have your +Confession back again." + +As the reference to the Confession passed his lips for the second +time, the sinking energy in the woman leaped up in her once more. +She snatched her slate from her side; and, writing on it rapidly, +held it, with both hands, close under his eyes. He read these +words: + +"I won't wait. I must have it to-night." + +"Do you think I keep your Confession about me?" said Geoffrey. "I +haven't even got it in the house." + +She staggered back; and looked up for the first time. + +"Don't alarm yourself," he went on. "It's sealed up with my seal; +and it's safe in my bankers' keeping. I posted it to them myself. +You don't stick at a trifle, Mrs. Dethridge. If I had kept it +locked up in the house, you might have forced the lock when my +back was turned. If I had kept it about me--I might have had that +towel over my face, in the small hours of the morning! The +bankers will give you back your Confession--just as they have +received it from me--on receipt of an order in my handwriting. Do +what I have told you; and you shall have the order to-night." + +She passed her apron over her face, and drew a long breath of +relief. Geoffrey turned to the door. + +"I will be back at six this evening," he said. "Shall I find it +done?" + +She bowed her head. + +His first condition accepted, he proceeded to the second. + +"When the opportunity offers," he resumed, "I shall go up to my +room. I shall ring the dining room bell first. You will go up +before me when you hear that--and you will show me how you did it +in the empty house?" + +She made the affirmative sign once more. + +At the same moment the door in the passage below was opened and +closed again. Geoffrey instantly went down stairs. It was +possible that Anne might have forgotten something; and it was +necessary to prevent her from returning to her own room. + +They met in the passage. + +"Tired of waiting in the garden?" he asked, abruptly. + +She pointed to the dining-room. + +"The postman has just given me a letter for you, through the +grating in the gate," she answered. "I have put it on the table +in there." + +He went in. The handwriting on the address of the letter was the +handwriting of Mrs. Glenarm. He put it unread into his pocket, +and went back to Anne. + +"Step out!" he said. "We shall lose the train." + +They started for their visit to Holchester House. + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SEVENTH. + +THE END. + +AT a few minutes before six o'clock that evening, Lord +Holchester's carriage brought Geoffrey and Anne back to the +cottage. + +Geoffrey prevented the servant from ringing at the gate. He had +taken the key with him, when he left home earlier in the day. +Having admitted Anne, and having closed the gate again, he went +on before her to the kitchen window, and called to Hester +Dethridge. + +"Take some cold water into the drawing-room and fill the vase on +the chimney-piece," he said. "The sooner you put those flowers +into water," he added, turning to his wife, "the longer they will +last." + +He pointed, as he spoke, to a nosegay in Anne's hand, which +Julius had gathered for her from the conservatory at Holchester +House. Leaving her to arrange the flowers in the vase, he went up +stairs. After waiting for a moment, he was joined by Hester +Dethridge. + +"Done?" he asked, in a whisper. + +Hester made the affirmative sign. + Geoffrey took off his boots and led the way into the spare room. +They noiselessly moved the bed back to its place against the +partition wall--and left the room again. When Anne entered it, +some minutes afterward, not the slightest change of any kind was +visible since she had last seen it in the middle of the day. + +She removed her bonnet and mantle, and sat down to rest. + +The whole course of events, since the previous night, had tended +one way, and had exerted the same delusive influence over her +mind. It was impossible for her any longer to resist the +conviction that she had distrusted appearances without the +slightest reason, and that she had permitted purely visionary +suspicions to fill her with purely causeless alarm. In the firm +belief that she was in danger, she had watched through the +night--and nothing had happened. In the confident anticipation +that Geoffrey had promised what he was resolved not to perform, +she had waited to see what excuse he would find for keeping her +at the cottage. And, when the time came for the visit, she found +him ready to fulfill the engagement which he had made. At +Holchester House, not the slightest interference had been +attempted with her perfect liberty of action and speech. Resolved +to inform Sir Patrick that she had changed her room, she had +described the alarm of fire and the events which had succeeded +it, in the fullest detail--and had not been once checked by +Geoffrey from beginning to end. She had spoken in confidence to +Blanche, and had never been interrupted. Walking round the +conservatory, she had dropped behind the others with perfect +impunity, to say a grateful word to Sir Patrick, and to ask if +the interpretation that he placed on Geoffrey's conduct was +really the interpretation which had been hinted at by Blanche. +They had talked together for ten minutes or more. Sir Patrick had +assured her that Blanche had correctly represented his opinion. +He had declared his conviction that the rash way was, in her +case, the right way; and that she would do well (with his +assistance) to take the initiative, in the matter of the +separation, on herself. "As long as he can keep you under the +same roof with him"--Sir Patrick had said--"so long he will +speculate on our anxiety to release you from the oppression of +living with him; and so long he will hold out with his brother +(in the character of a penitent husband) for higher terms. Put +the signal in the window, and try the experiment to-night. Once +find your way to the garden door, and I answer for keeping you +safely out of his reach until he has submitted to the separation, +and has signed the deed." In those words he had urged Anne to +prompt action. He had received, in return, her promise to be +guided by his advice. She had gone back to the drawing-room; and +Geoffrey had made no remark on her absence. She had returned to +Fulham, alone with him in his brother's carriage; and he had +asked no questions. What was it natural, with her means of +judging, to infer from all this? Could she see into Sir Patrick's +mind and detect that he was deliberately concealing his own +conviction, in the fear that he might paralyze her energies if he +acknowledged the alarm for her that he really felt? No. She could +only accept the false appearances that surrounded her in the +disguise of truth. She could only adopt, in good faith, Sir +Patrick's assumed point of view, and believe, on the evidence of +her own observation, that Sir Patrick was right. + + + +Toward dusk, Anne began to feel the exhaustion which was the +necessary result of a night passed without sleep. She rang her +bell, and asked for some tea. + +Hester Dethridge answered the bell. Instead of making the usual +sign, she stood considering--and then wrote on her slate. These +were the words: "I have all the work to do, now the girl has +gone. If you would have your tea in the drawing-room, you would +save me another journey up stairs." + +Anne at once engaged to comply with the request. + +"Are you ill?" she asked; noticing, faint as the light now was, +something strangely altered in Hester's manner. + +Without looking up, Hester shook her head. + +"Has any thing happened to vex you?" + +The negative sign was repeated. + +"Have I offended you?" + +She suddenly advanced a step, suddenly looked at Anne; checked +herself with a dull moan, like a moan of pain; and hurried out of +the room. + +Concluding that she had inadvertently said, or done, something to +offend Hester Dethridge, Anne determined to return to the subject +at the first favorable opportunity. In the mean time, she +descended to the ground-floor. The dining-room door, standing +wide open, showed her Geoffrey sitting at the table, writing a +letter--with the fatal brandy-bottle at his side. + +After what Mr. Speedwell had told her, it was her duty to +interfere. She performed her duty, without an instant's +hesitation. + +"Pardon me for interrupting you," she said. "I think you have +forgotten what Mr. Speedwell told you about that." + +She pointed to the bottle. Geoffrey looked at it; looked down +again at his letter; and impatiently shook his head. She made a +second attempt at remonstrance--again without effect. He only +said, "All right!" in lower tones than were customary with him, +and continued his occupation. It was useless to court a third +repulse. Anne went into the drawing-room. + +The letter on which he was engaged was an answer to Mrs. Glenarm, +who had written to tell him that she was leaving town. He had +reached his two concluding sentences when Anne spoke to him. They +ran as follows: "I may have news to bring you, before long, which +you don't look for. Stay where you are through to-morrow, and +wait to hear from me." + +After sealing the envelope, he emptied his glass of brandy and +water; and waited, looking through the open door. When Hester +Dethridge crossed the passage with the tea-tray, and entered the +drawing-room, he gave the sign which had been agreed on. He rang +his bell. Hester came out again, closing the drawing-room door +behind her. + +"Is she safe at her tea?" he asked, removing his heavy boots, and +putting on the slippers which were placed ready for him. + +Hester bowed her head. + +He pointed up the stairs. "You go first," he whispered. "No +nonsense! and no noise!" + +She ascended the stairs. He followed slowly. Although he had only +drunk one glass of brandy and water, his step was uncertain +already. With one hand on the wall, and one hand on the banister, +he made his way to the top; stopped, and listened for a moment; +then joined Hester in his own room, and softly locked the door. + +"Well?" he said. + +She was standing motionless in the middle of the room--not like a +living woman--like a machine waiting to be set in movement. +Finding it useless to speak to her, he touched her (with a +strange sensation of shrinking in him as he did it), and pointed +to the partition wall. + +The touch roused her. With slow step and vacant face--moving as +if she was walking in her sleep--she led the way to the papered +wall; knelt down at the skirting-board; and, taking out two small +sharp nails, lifted up a long strip of the paper which had been +detached from the plaster beneath. Mounting on a chair, she +turned back the strip and pinned it up, out of the way, using the +two nails, which she had kept ready in her hand. + +By the last dim rays of twilight, Geoffrey looked at the wall. + +A hollow space met his view. At a distance of some three feet +from the floor, the laths had been sawn away, and the plaster had +been ripped out, piecemeal, so as to leave a cavity, sufficient +in height and width to allow free power of working in any +direction, to a man's arms. The cavity completely pierced the +substance of the wall. Nothing but the paper on the other side +prevented eye or hand from penetrating into the next room. + +Hester Dethridge got down from the chair, and made signs for a +light. + +Geoffrey took a match from the box. The same strange uncertainty +which had already possessed his feet, appeared now to possess his +hands. He struck the match too heavily against the sandpaper, and +broke it. He tried another, and struck it too lightly to kindle +the flame. Hester took the box out of his hands. Having lit the +candle, she hel d it low, and pointed to the skirting-board. + +Two little hooks were fixed into the floor, near the part of the +wall from which the paper had been removed. Two lengths of fine +and strong string were twisted once or twice round the hooks. The +loose ends of the string extending to some length beyond the +twisted parts, were neatly coiled away against the +skirting-board. The other ends, drawn tight, disappeared in two +small holes drilled through the wall, at a height of a foot from +the floor. + +After first untwisting the strings from the hooks, Hester rose, +and held the candle so as to light the cavity in the wall. Two +more pieces of the fine string were seen here, resting loose upon +the uneven surface which marked the lower boundary of the +hollowed space. Lifting these higher strings, Hester lifted the +loosened paper in the next room--the lower strings, which had +previously held the strip firm and flat against the sound portion +of the wall, working in their holes, and allowing the paper to +move up freely. As it rose higher and higher, Geoffrey saw thin +strips of cotton wool lightly attached, at intervals, to the back +of the paper, so as effectually to prevent it from making a +grating sound against the wall. Up and up it came slowly, till it +could be pulled through the hollow space, and pinned up out of +the way, as the strip previously lifted had been pinned before +it. Hester drew back, and made way for Geoffrey to look through. +There was Anne's room, visible through the wall! He softly parted +the light curtains that hang over the bed. There was the pillow, +on which her head would rest at night, within reach of his hands! + +The deadly dexterity of it struck him cold. His nerves gave way. +He drew back with a start of guilty fear, and looked round the +room. A pocket flask of brandy lay on the table at his bedside. +He snatched it up, and emptied it at a draught--and felt like +himself again. + +He beckoned to Hester to approach him. + +"Before we go any further," he said, "there's one thing I want to +know. How is it all to be put right again? Suppose this room is +examined? Those strings will show." + +Hester opened a cupboard and produced a jar. She took out the +cork. There was a mixture inside which looked like glue. Partly +by signs, and partly by help of the slate, she showed how the +mixture could be applied to the back of the loosened strip of +paper in the next room--how the paper could be glued to the sound +lower part of the wall by tightening the strings--how the +strings, having served that purpose, could be safely removed--how +the same process could be followed in Geoffrey's room, after the +hollowed place had been filled up again with the materials +waiting in the scullery, or even without filling up the hollowed +place if the time failed for doing it. In either case, the +refastened paper would hide every thing, and the wall would tell +no tales. + +Geoffrey was satisfied. He pointed next to the towels in his +room. + +"Take one of them," he said, "and show me how you did it, with +your own hands." + +As he said the words, Anne's voice reached his ear from below, +calling for "Mrs. Dethridge." + +It was impossible to say what might happen next. In another +minute, she might go up to her room, and discover every thing. +Geoffrey pointed to the wall. + +"Put it right again," he said. "Instantly!" + +It was soon done. All that was necessary was to let the two +strips of paper drop back into their places--to fasten the strip +to the wall in Anne's room, by tightening the two lower +strings--and then to replace the nails which held the loose strip +on Geoffrey's side. In a minute, the wall had reassumed its +customary aspect. + +They stole out, and looked over the stairs into the passage +below. After calling uselessly for the second time, Anne +appeared, crossed over to the kitchen; and, returning again with +the kettle in her hand, closed the drawing-room door. + +Hester Dethridge waited impenetrably to receive her next +directions. There were no further directions to give. The hideous +dramatic representation of the woman's crime for which Geoffrey +had asked was in no respect necessary: the means were all +prepared, and the manner of using them was self-evident. Nothing +but the opportunity, and the resolution to profit by it, were +wanting to lead the way to the end. Geoffrey signed to Hester to +go down stairs. + +"Get back into the kitchen," he said, "before she comes out +again. I shall keep in the garden. When she goes up into her room +for the night, show yourself at the back-door--and I shall know." + +Hester set her foot on the first stair--stopped--turned +round--and looked slowly along the two walls of the passage, from +end to end--shuddered--shook her head--and went slowly on down +the stairs. + +"What were you looking for?" he whispered after her. + +She neither answered, nor looked back--she went her way into the +kitchen. + +He waited a minute, and then followed her. + +On his way out to the garden, he went into the dining-room. The +moon had risen; and the window-shutters were not closed. It was +easy to find the brandy and the jug of water on the table. He +mixed the two, and emptied the tumbler at a draught. "My head's +queer," he whispered to himself. He passed his handkerchief over +his face. "How infernally hot it is to-night!" He made for the +door. It was open, and plainly visible--and yet, he failed to +find his way to it. Twice, he found himself trying to walk +through the wall, on either side. The third time, he got out, and +reached the garden. A strange sensation possessed him, as he +walked round and round. He had not drunk enough, or nearly +enough, to intoxicate him. His mind, in a dull way, felt the same +as usual; but his body was like the body of a drunken man. + +The night advanced; the clock of Putney Church struck ten. + +Anne appeared again from the drawing room, with her bedroom +candle in her hand. + +"Put out the lights," she said to Hester, at the kitchen door; "I +am going up stairs." + +She entered her room. The insupportable sense of weariness, after +the sleepless night that she had passed, weighed more heavily on +her than ever. She locked her door, but forbore, on this +occasion, to fasten the bolts. The dread of danger was no longer +present to her mind; and there was this positive objection to +losing the bolts, that the unfastening of them would increase the +difficulty of leaving the room noiselessly later in the night. +She loosened her dress, and lifted her hair from her temples--and +paced to and fro in the room wearily, thinking. Geoffrey's habits +were irregular; Hester seldom went to bed early. + +Two hours at least--more probably three--must pass, before it +would be safe to communicate with Sir Patrick by means of the +signal in the window. Her strength was fast failing her. If she +persisted, for the next three hours, in denying herself the +repose which she sorely needed, the chances were that her nerves +might fail her, through sheer exhaustion, when the time came for +facing the risk and making the effort to escape. Sleep was +falling on her even now--and sleep she must have. She had no fear +of failing to wake at the needful time. Falling asleep, with a +special necessity for rising at a given hour present to her mind, +Anne (like most other sensitively organized people) could trust +herself to wake at that given hour, instinctively. She put her +lighted candle in a safe position, and laid down on the bed. In +less than five minutes, she was in a deep sleep. + + * * * * * * + +The church clock struck the quarter to eleven. Hester Dethridge +showed herself at the back garden door. Geoffrey crossed the +lawn, and joined her. The light of the lamp in the passage fell +on his face. She started back from the sight of it. + +"What's wrong?" he asked. + +She shook her head; and pointed through the dining-room door to +the brandy-bottle on the table. + +"I'm as sober as you are, you fool!" he said. "Whatever else it +is, it's not that." + +Hester looked at him again. He was right. However unsteady his +gait might be, his speech was not the speech, his eyes were not +the eyes, of a drunken man. + +"Is she in her room for the night?" + +Hester made the affirmative sign. + +Geoffrey ascended the st airs, swaying from side to side. He +stopped at the top, and beckoned to Hester to join him. He went +on into his room; and, signing to her to follow him, closed the +door. + +He looked at the partition wall--without approaching it. Hester +waited, behind him + +"Is she asleep?" he asked. + +Hester went to the wall; listened at it; and made the affirmative +reply. + +He sat down. "My head's queer," he said. "Give me a drink of +water." He drank part of the water, and poured the rest over his +head. Hester turned toward the door to leave him. He instantly +stopped her. "_I_ can't unwind the strings. _I_ can't lift up the +paper. Do it." + +She sternly made the sign of refusal: she resolutely opened the +door to leave him. "Do you want your Confession back?" he asked. +She closed the door, stolidly submissive in an instant; and +crossed to the partition wall. + +She lifted the loose strips of paper on either side of the +wall--pointed through the hollowed place--and drew back again to +the other end of the room. + +He rose and walked unsteadily from the chair to the foot of his +bed. Holding by the wood-work of the bed; he waited a little. +While he waited, he became conscious of a change in the strange +sensations that possessed him. A feeling as of a breath of cold +air passed over the right side of his head. He became steady +again: he could calculate his distances: he could put his hands +through the hollowed place, and draw aside the light curtains, +hanging from the hook in the ceiling over the head of her bed. He +could look at his sleeping wife. + +She was dimly visible, by the light of the candle placed at the +other end of her room. The worn and weary look had disappeared +from her face. All that had been purest and sweetest in it, in +the by-gone time, seemed to be renewed by the deep sleep that +held her gently. She was young again in the dim light: she was +beautiful in her calm repose. Her head lay back on the pillow. +Her upturned face was in a position which placed her completely +at the mercy of the man under whose eyes she was sleeping--the +man who was looking at her, with the merciless resolution in him +to take her life. + +After waiting a while, he drew back. "She's more like a child +than a woman to-night," he muttered to himself under his breath. +He glanced across the room at Hester Dethridge. The lighted +candle which she had brought up stairs with her was burning near +the place where she stood. "Blow it out," he whispered. She never +moved. He repeated the direction. There she stood, deaf to him. + +What was she doing? She was looking fixedly into one of the +corners of the room. + +He turned his head again toward the hollowed place in the wall. +He looked at the peaceful face on the pillow once more. He +deliberately revived his own vindictive sense of the debt that he +owed her. "But for you," he whispered to himself, "I should have +won the race: but for you, I should have been friends with my +father: but for you, I might marry Mrs. Glenarm." He turned back +again into the room while the sense of it was at its fiercest in +him. He looked round and round him. He took up a towel; +considered for a moment; and threw it down again. + +A new idea struck him. In two steps he was at the side of his +bed. He seized on one of the pillows, and looked suddenly at +Hester. "It's not a drunken brute, this time," he said to her. +"It's a woman who will fight for her life. The pillow's the +safest of the two." She never answered him, and never looked +toward him. He made once more for the place in the wall; and +stopped midway between it and his bed--stopped, and cast a +backward glance over his shoulder. + +Hester Dethridge was stirring at last. + +With no third person in the room, she was looking, and moving, +nevertheless, as if she was following a third person along the +wall, from the corner. Her lips were parted in horror; her eyes, +opening wider and wider, stared rigid and glittering at the empty +wall. Step by step she stole nearer and nearer to Geoffrey, still +following some visionary Thing, which was stealing nearer and +nearer, too. He asked himself what it meant. Was the terror of +the deed that he was about to do more than the woman's brain +could bear? Would she burst out screaming, and wake his wife? + +He hurried to the place in the wall--to seize the chance, while +the chance was his. + +He steadied his strong hold on the pillow. + +He stooped to pass it through the opening. + +He poised it over Anne's sleeping face. + +At the same moment he felt Hester Dethridge's hand laid on him +from behind. The touch ran through him, from head to foot, like a +touch of ice. He drew back with a start, and faced her. Her eyes +were staring straight over his shoulder at something behind +him--looking as they had looked in the garden at Windygates. + +Before he could speak he felt the flash of her eyes in _his_ +eyes. For the third time, she had seen the Apparition behind him. +The homicidal frenzy possessed her. She flew at his throat like a +wild beast. The feeble old woman attacked the athlete! + +He dropped the pillow, and lifted his terrible right arm to brush +her from him, as he might have brushed an insect from him. + +Even as he raised the arm a frightful distortion seized on his +face. As if with an invisible hand, it dragged down the brow and +the eyelid on the right; it dragged down the mouth on the same +side. His arm fell helpless; his whole body, on the side under +the arm, gave way. He dropped on the floor, like a man shot dead. + +Hester Dethridge pounced on his prostrate body--knelt on his +broad breast--and fastened her ten fingers on his throat. + + * * * * * * + +The shock of the fall woke Anne on the instant. She started +up--looked round--and saw a gap in the wall at the head of her +bed, and the candle-light glimmering in the next room. +Panic-stricken; doubting, for the moment, if she were in her +right mind, she drew back, waiting--listening--looking. She saw +nothing but the glimmering light in the room; she heard nothing +but a hoarse gasping, as of some person laboring for breath. The +sound ceased. There was an interval of silence. Then the head of +Hester Dethridge rose slowly into sight through the gap in the +wall--rose with the glittering light of madness in the eyes, and +looked at her. + +She flew to the open window, and screamed for help. + +Sir Patrick's voice answered her, from the road in front of the +cottage. + +"Wait for me, for God's sake!" she cried. + +She fled from the room, and rushed down the stairs. In another +moment, she had opened the door, and was out in the front garden. + +As she ran to the gate, she heard the voice of a strange man on +the other side of it. Sir Patrick called to her encouragingly. +"The police man is with us," he said. "He patrols the garden at +night--he has a key." As he spoke the gate was opened from the +outside. She saw Sir Patrick, Arnold, and the policeman. She +staggered toward them as they came in--she was just able to say, +"Up stairs!" before her senses failed her. Sir Patrick saved her +from falling. He placed her on the bench in the garden, and +waited by her, while Arnold and the policeman hurried into the +cottage. + +"Where first?" asked Arnold. + +"The room the lady called from," said the policeman + +They mounted the stairs, and entered Anne's room. The gap in the +wall was instantly observed by both of them. They looked through +it. + +Geoffrey Delamayn's dead body lay on the floor. Hester Dethridge +was kneeling at his head, praying. + + +EPILOGUE. + + +A MORNING CALL. + +I. + +THE newspapers have announced the return of Lord and Lady +Holchester to their residence in London, after an absence on the +continent of more than six months. + +It is the height of the season. All day long, within the +canonical hours, the door of Holchester House is perpetually +opening to receive visitors. The vast majority leave their cards, +and go away again. Certain privileged individuals only, get out +of their carriages, and enter the house. + +Among these last, arriving at an earlier hour than is customary, +is a person of distinction who is positively bent on seeing +either the master or the mistress of the house, and who will take +no denial. While this person is parleying with the chief of the +servants , Lord Holchester, passing from one room to another, +happens to cross the inner end of the hall. The person instantly +darts at him with a cry of "Dear Lord Holchester!" Julius turns, +and sees--Lady Lundie! + +He is fairly caught, and he gives way with his best grace. As he +opens the door of the nearest room for her ladyship, he furtively +consults his watch, and says in his inmost soul, "How am I to get +rid of her before the others come?" + +Lady Lundie settles down on a sofa in a whirlwind of silk and +lace, and becomes, in her own majestic way, "perfectly charming." +She makes the most affectionate inquiries about Lady Holchester, +about the Dowager Lady Holchester, about Julius himself. Where +have they been? what have they seen? have time and change helped +them to recover the shock of that dreadful event, to which Lady +Lundie dare not more particularly allude? Julius answers +resignedly, and a little absently. He makes polite inquiries, on +his side, as to her ladyship's plans and proceedings--with a mind +uneasily conscious of the inexorable lapse of time, and of +certain probabilities which that lapse may bring with it. Lady +Lundie has very little to say about herself. She is only in town +for a few weeks. Her life is a life of retirement. "My modest +round of duties at Windygates, Lord Holchester; occasionally +relieved, when my mind is overworked, by the society of a few +earnest friends whose views harmonize with my own--my existence +passes (not quite uselessly, I hope) in that way. I have no news; +I see nothing--except, indeed, yesterday, a sight of the saddest +kind." She pauses there. Julius observes that he is expected to +make inquiries, and makes them accordingly. + +Lady Lundie hesitates; announces that her news refers to that +painful past event which she has already touched on; acknowledges +that she could not find herself in London without feeling an act +of duty involved in making inquiries at the asylum in which +Hester Dethridge is confined for life; announces that she has not +only made the inquiries, but has seen the unhappy woman herself; +has spoken to her, has found her unconscious of her dreadful +position, incapable of the smallest exertion of memory, resigned +to the existence that she leads, and likely (in the opinion of +the medical superintendent) to live for some years to come. +Having stated these facts, her ladyship is about to make a few of +those "remarks appropriate to the occasion," in which she excels, +when the door opens; and Lady Holchester, in search of her +missing husband, enters the room. + +II. + +There is a new outburst of affectionate interest on Lady Lundie's +part--met civilly, but not cordially, by Lady Holchester. +Julius's wife seems, like Julius, to be uneasily conscious of the +lapse of time. Like Julius again, she privately wonders how long +Lady Lundie is going to stay. + +Lady Lundie shows no signs of leaving the sofa. She has evidently +come to Holchester House to say something--and she has not said +it yet. Is she going to say it? Yes. She is going to get, by a +roundabout way, to the object in view. She has another inquiry of +the affectionate sort to make. May she be permitted to resume the +subject of Lord and Lady Holchester's travels? They have been at +Rome. Can they confirm the shocking intelligence which has +reached her of the "apostasy" of Mrs. Glenarm? + +Lady Holchester can confirm it, by personal xexperience. Mrs. +Glenarm has renounced the world, and has taken refuge in the +bosom of the Holy Catholic Church. Lady Holchester has seen her +in a convent at Rome. She is passing through the period of her +probation; and she is resolved to take the veil. Lady Lundie, as +a good Protestant, lifts her hands in horror--declares the topic +to be too painful to dwell on--and, by way of varying it, goes +straight to the point at last. Has Lady I Holchester, in the +course of her continental experience, happened to meet with, or +to hear of--Mrs. Arnold Brinkworth? + +"I have ceased, as you know, to hold any communication with my +relatives," Lady Lundie explains. "The course they took at the +time of our family trial--the sympathy they felt with a Person +whom I can not even now trust myself to name more +particularly--alienated us from each other. I may be grieved, +dear Lady Holchester; but I bear no malice. And I shall always +feel a motherly interest in hearing of Blanche's welfare. I have +been told that she and her husband were traveling, at the time +when you and Lord Holchester were traveling. Did you meet with +them?" + +Julius and his wife looked at each other. Lord Holchester is +dumb. Lady Holchester replies: + +"We saw Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Brinkworth at Florence, and afterward +at Naples, Lady Lundie. They returned to England a week since, in +anticipation of a certain happy event, which will possibly +increase the members of your family circle. They are now in +London. Indeed, I may tell you that we expect them here to lunch +to-day." + +Having made this plain statement, Lady Holchester looks at Lady +Lundie. (If _that_ doesn't hasten her departure, nothing will!) + +Quite useless! Lady Lundie holds her ground. Having heard +absolutely nothing of her relatives for the last six months, she +is burning with curiosity to hear more. There is a name she has +not mentioned yet. She places a certain constraint upon herself, +and mentions it now. + +"And Sir Patrick?" says her ladyship, subsiding into a gentle +melancholy, suggestive of past injuries condoned by Christian +forgiveness. "I only know what report tells me. Did you meet with +Sir Patrick at Florence and Naples, also?" + +Julius and his wife look at each other again. The clock in the +hall strikes. Julius shudders. Lady Holchester's patience begins +to give way. There is an awkward pause. Somebody must say +something. As before, Lady Holchester replies "Sir Patrick went +abroad, Lady Lundie, with his niece and her husband; and Sir +Patrick has come back with them." + +"In good health?" her ladyship inquires. + +"Younger than ever," Lady Holchester rejoins. + +Lady Lundie smiles satirically. Lady Holchester notices the +smile; decides that mercy shown to _this_ woman is mercy +misplaced; and announces (to her husband's horror) that she has +news to tell of Sir Patrick, which will probably take his +sister-in-law by surprise. + +Lady Lundie waits eagerly to hear what the news is. + +"It is no secret," Lady Holchester proceeds--"though it is only +known, as yet to a few intimate friends. Sir Patrick has made an +important change in his life." + +Lady Lundie's charming smile suddenly dies out. + +"Sir Patrick is not only a very clever and a very agreeable man," +Lady Holchester resumes a little maliciously; "he is also, in all +his habits and ways (as you well know), a man younger than his +years--who still possesses many of the qualities which seldom +fail to attract women." + +Lady Lundie starts to her feet. + +"You don't mean to tell me, Lady Holchester, that Sir Patrick is +married?" + +"I do." + +Her ladyship drops back on the sofa; helpless really and truly +helpless, under the double blow that has fallen on her. She is +not only struck out of her place as the chief woman of the +family, but (still on the right side of forty) she is socially +superannuated, as The Dowager Lady Lundie, for the rest of her +life! + +"At his age!" she exclaims, as soon as she can speak. + +"Pardon me for reminding you," Lady Holchester answers, "that +plenty of men marry at Sir Patrick's age. In his case, it is only +due to him to say that his motive raises him beyond the reach of +ridicule or reproach. His marriage is a good action, in the +highest sense of the word. It does honor to _him,_ as well as to +the lady who shares his position and his name." + +"A young girl, of course!" is Lady Lundie's next remark. + +"No. A woman who has been tried by no common suffering, and who +has borne her hard lot nobly. A woman who deserves the calmer and +the happier life on which she is entering now." + +"May I ask who she is?" + +Before the question can be answered, a knock at the house door +announces the arrival of visitors. For the third time, Julius and +his wife look at each other. On this occasion, Julius interferes. + +"My wife has already told you, Lady Lundie, that we expect Mr. +and Mrs. Brinkworth to lunch. Sir Patrick, and the new Lady +Lundie, accompany them. If I am mistaken in supposing that it +might not be quite agreeable to you to meet them, I can only ask +your pardon. If I am right, I will leave Lady Holchester to +receive our friends, and will do myself the honor of taking you +into another room." + +He advances to the door of an inner room. He offers his arm to +Lady Lundie. Her ladyship stands immovable; determined to see the +woman who has supplanted her. In a moment more, the door of +entrance from the hall is thrown open; and the servant announces, +"Sir Patrick and Lady Lundie. Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Brinkworth." + +Lady Lundie looks at the woman who has taken her place at the +head of the family; and sees--ANNE SILVESTER! + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Man and Wife, by Wilkie Collins + diff --git a/old/mandw10.zip b/old/mandw10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e07b273 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/mandw10.zip |