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diff --git a/58188-0.txt b/58188-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e217fce --- /dev/null +++ b/58188-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,26205 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58188 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + 1. Page scan source: + https://books.google.com/books?id=GHApAQAAIAAJ + (The University of California.) + + + + + + + +OSWALD CRAY. + + +[Frontispiece: "One word of sympathy."] + + + + + + +OSWALD CRAY. + + +A Novel. + +BY +MRS. HENRY WOOD, +AUTHOR OF +"EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," ETC. + + + _EIGHTH EDITION_. + + +LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. +Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty. + +1882. + +[_All Rights of Translation and Reproduction are Reserved_.] + + + + + + +LONDON: +PRINTED BY J. OGDEN AND CO., +172, ST. JOHN STREET, E.C. + + + + + + +CONTENTS. + +CHAPTER + I. Dr. Davenal. + II. Lady Oswald's Letters. + III. Miss Bettina Davenal. + IV. Oswald Cray. + V. Retrospect. + VI. Neal's Curiosity. + VII. An Interruption. + VIII. A Tacit Bargain. + IX. Edward Davenal. + X. A Treat for Neal. + XI. Lady Oswald's Journey. + XII. Waiting for News. + XIII. Pain. + XIV. A Whim Of Lady Oswald's. + XV. Mark Cray's Mistake. + XVI. Neal's Dismay. + XVII. The Night Visitor to Dr. Davenal. + XVIII. After the Visitor's Departure. + XIX. Commotion. + XX. Going Down to the Funeral. + XXI. The Interview with the Doctor. + XXII. The Will. + XXIII. Neal's Visit. + XXIV. Dr. Davenal's "Folly." + XXV. Company for Mr. Oswald Cray. + XXVI. More Instilled Doubt. + XXVII. An Inclement Afternoon. + XXVIII. The Last Meeting. + XXIX. A Special Favour for Neal. + XXX. The Doctor's Birthday. + XXXI. Bad News for Hallingham. + XXXII. Last Hours. + XXXIII. Sorrow. + XXXIV. Work for the Future. + XXXV. Mark's New Plans. + XXXVI. "Is Mark in his Senses?" + XXXVII. Entering on a New Home. + XXXVIII. Hope Deferred. + XXXIX. An Unpleasant Visit. + XL. A Flourishing Company. + XLI. A Slight Check. + XLII. In the Temple Gardens. + XLIII. An Irruption on Mark Cray. + XLIV. Was she never to be at Peace? + XLV. Mrs. Benn's Wrongs. + XLVI. An Unwelcome Visitor. + XLVII. Commotion. + XLVIII. Day-dreams Rudely Interrupted. + XLIX. The Evening of the Blow. + L. Hard Usage for Dick. + LI. Weary Days. + LII. Something "turned up" at Last. + LIII. A New Home. + LIV. A Bell Ringing out at Midnight. + LV. A Desolate Night. + LVI. No Hope. + LVII. Dreadful Treachery. + LVIII. The Gallant Captain home again. + LIX. The Sergeant-Major's Wife. + LX. Light. + LXI. The Bargain Sealed. + LXII. "Finance," this Time. + LXIII. Six Months Later. + + + + + + +OSWALD CRAY. + + + + +CHAPTER I. +DR. DAVENAL. + + +It was market-day at Hallingham. A moderate-sized and once beautiful +town, cut up now by the ugly railroad which had chosen to take its way +right through it, and to build a large station on the very spot where +the Abbey Gardens used to flourish. Famous gardens once; and not so +long ago the evening recreation of the townspeople, who would +promenade there at sunset, whatever the time of year. Since the +gardens had been seized upon for the railway purposes, a bitter feud +of opinion had reigned in the place; the staid old inhabitants +mourning and resenting their town's desecration; the younger welcoming +the new rail, its station, and its bustle, with all their might and +main, as a grateful inbreak on their monotonous life. The trains from +London (distant some sixty or seventy miles) would go shrieking and +whistling through the town at any hour of the day or night: and, so +far, peace for Hallingham was over. + +Possibly it was because the town was famous for little else, that +these Abbey Gardens were so regretted. Hallingham Abbey had been +renowned in the ages gone by; very little of its greatness was left to +it now. The crumbling hand of time had partially destroyed the fine +old building, an insignificant portion of it alone remaining: just +sufficient to impart a notion of its style of architecture and the +century of its erection: and this small portion had been patched and +propped, and altogether altered and modernised, by way of keeping it +together. It was little more than an ordinary dwelling-house now; and +at the present moment was unoccupied, ready to be let to any suitable +tenant who would take it. But, poor as it was in comparison with some +of the modern dwellings in its vicinity, it was still in a degree +bowed down to by Hallingham. There was something high-sounding in the +address, "The Abbey, Hallingham," and none but a gentleman born and +bred must venture to treat for it. + +It stood alone: the extensive gardens in front of it; the space once +occupied by the chapel behind it. All traces of the chapel building +were gone now, but its mossy gravestones were imbedded in the ground +still, and the spot remained as sacred as a graveyard. The Latin +inscriptions on some of these stones could be yet made out: and +that on one attracted as much imaginative speculation as the famed +gravestone in the cloisters of Worcester Cathedral. A few Latin words +only were on it, signifying "buried in misery:" no name, no date. +Thoughtful natures would glance at that stone as they passed it, with +an inward breath of hope--perhaps of prayer--that the misery +experienced by its unhappy tenant in this world had been exchanged for +a life of immortality. This graveyard was not a thoroughfare, and few +cared to walk there who were absorbed in the bustle and pleasures of +life; but the aged, the invalid, the mourner might be seen there on +fine days, seated on its one solitary bench, and buried in solemn +reflections. A short space of time, more or less, as it might happen, +and they would be lying under gravestones in their turn: a short space +of time, my friends, and you and I shall be equally lying there. + +The broad space of the public road running along the Abbey's front +divided it from the gardens, the gardens being the public property of +the town. On the opposite side of these gardens, furthest from the +Abbey, were the buildings of the new station and the lines upon lines +of rails. + +It is well to say lines upon lines of rails! Hallingham said +it--said it with a groan. Not content with a simple line, or a double +line of rails, sufficient for ordinary traffic, the railway +authorities had made it into a "junction"--"Hallingham Junction!"--and +more lines branched off from it than you would care to count. This was +at the east end of the town; beyond it was the open country. Some of +the lines made a sort of semicircle, cut off a corner of the town, and +branched off into space. It's true it was a very shabby little corner +of the town that had thus been cut off, but Hallingham did not the +less resent the invasion. + +Walking down to Hallingham along the broad road leading from the Abbey, +its busiest part was soon gained. Let us look at it today: Tuesday. It +is market-day at Hallingham, and the hot July sun streams full on the +people's heads, for there's no room for the raised umbrellas, and they +afford little continuous shade. It is the large, wide, open space in +front of the town-hall where we have halted, and here from time +immemorial the market people have sat to chaffer and change, barter +and sell. Country women expose their poultry and eggs, their butter and +cream cheese, and their other wares, all on this spot. No matter what +the weather--in the dog-days of summer, in the sharp snow, the pitiless +storm of winter--here they are every Tuesday under their sea of +umbrellas, which must be put down to allow space to the jostling crowd +when the market gets full. The town had been talking the last ten years +of erecting a covered market-house; but it was not begun yet. + +Still on, down the principal street, leaving this market-place to the +left, and what was called the West-end of the town was gained. Proud +Hallingham had named it West-end in imitation of London. It was nothing +but a street; its name, New Street, proclaiming that it was of more +recent date than some of the other parts. It was really a fine street, +wide and open, with broad white pavements, and its houses were mostly +private ones, their uniformity of line being broken by a detached house +here and there. It was a long street, and five or six other by-streets +and turnings branched off from it at right angles. + +Lying back from the street at the corner of one of these turnings was a +handsome white house, detached, with a fine pillared-portico entrance +in its centre and a plate on the door. It was fully as conspicuous to +the street as were the other houses which abutted on the pavement. A +level lawn was before it, divided from the street by low light iron +railings, its small light gate in the midst, opposite the +entrance-door. Narrow flower-beds, filled with gay and charming +flowers, skirted the lawn before the rails; on the sides, but not in +front, flourished evergreens close to the railings behind the +flower-beds, making a sort of screen. An inclosed garden lay at the +back of the house, and beyond the garden were the stables. On the +brass plate--you could read it from the street,--was inscribed "Dr. +Davenal." + +He was the chief _surgeon_ of Hallingham. Why he had taken his +degree--a recent accession of dignity--people were puzzled to tell. +Had he cared for high-sounding titles they could have understood it; +but he did not care for them: had he been a slave to example, that +might have accounted for it, for this degree-taking, as you must be +aware, has come into fashion of late years: had he wished to court +notoriety, he might have thought that a means to bring it to him. But +Hallingham knew Dr. Davenal better. He was a simple-minded man; he +liked to be out of the fashion instead of in it; and whether he wrote +"doctor" or "surgeon" after his name, he could not be more deservedly +renowned in his locality than he already was. He was a skilful +surgeon, a careful and successful operator, and his advice in purely +medical cases was sought in preference to that of any physician in +Hallingham. A rumour arose, untraceable to any certain source, that +his son Edward, a dashing young captain of infantry, had urged the +step upon him with a view to enhance his own standing with his brother +officers. The son of Mr. Davenal, a country surgeon, might be thought +slightingly of: the son of Dr. Davenal need not be. Be that as it +might, the rumour gained some credence, but it died away again. One +patient only ventured to question Dr. Davenal as to its truth, and the +doctor laughed heartily in his patient's face, and said he expected +handsome Ned could hold his own without reference to whether his +father might be a royal physician or a parish apothecary. + +Before we go on, I may tell you that you will like Dr. Davenal. He was +a good man. He had his faults, as we all have; but he was a good man. + +On this same hot July afternoon, there came careering down the street, +in its usual quick fashion, a handsome open carriage drawn by a pair of +beautiful bays. Dr. Davenal did not see why, because he was a doctor, +his carriage should be a sober one, his horses tame and rusty. Truth +to say, he was given to spend rather than to save. I have told you he +had faults, and perhaps you will call that one. He sat in his +accustomed seat, low in the carriage, his servant Roger mounted far +above him. He rarely drove, himself; never when paying professional +visits: a surgeon needs to keep his hands steady. Roger was a +favourite servant: fourteen years he had been in his present service, +and was getting fat upon it. Dr. Davenal sometimes told him jokingly +that he should have to pension him off, for his weight was getting too +much for the bays. The same could not be said of Dr. Davenal; he was a +spare man of middle height, with a broad white forehead, dark eyes, +and a careworn expression. + +The carriage was bowling quickly past the market-place--Dr. Davenal's +time was too precious to allow of his being driven slowly--when a +woman suddenly descried it. Quitting her sitting-place in the market, +she set off to run towards it, flinging up her hands in agitation, and +overturning her small board of wares with the haste she made. Poor +wares!--gooseberries and white and red currants displayed on cabbage +leaves to attract the eager eyes and watering lips of juvenile +passers-by; and common garden flowers tied up in nosegays--a halfpenny +a nosegay, a halfpenny a leaf. Roger saw the movement. + +"Here's Dame Hundley flying on to us, sir." + +Dr. Davenal, who was very much in the habit of falling into thought, +seeing and hearing nothing as he went along, raised his head, and +turning it in the direction of the market, met her anxious +countenance. + +"Pull up, Roger," he said to his servant. + +The countenance was a tearful one by the time it had reached the +doctor's side; and then the woman seemed to become aware that she had +done an unwarrantable thing in thus summarily arresting Dr. +Davenal--not that there was anything in his face or manner to remind +her of it. + +"Oh, sir, I beg ten thousand pardons for making thus bold! Seeing your +carriage, I started off in the moment's impulse. I've been a-fearing +all the morning as I sat there, that maybe you might be out when I +called, after market was over. He is no better, sir: he is worser and +weaker." + +"Ah!" remarked the doctor. "Couldn't he come in today?" + +"I don't believe there'll ever be any more coming in again for him," +was the woman's answer, as she strove to suppress her tears. +"'Mother,' says he to me this morning, when I tried to get him up, +'it's o' no use trying. I--I'"--She fairly broke down. + +"Does the parish doctor see him regularly?" + +"He comes, sir, about every third day. He caught his eye on that +bottle of physic that you wrote for and told me to get made up, and he +laid hold of it and asked where I got that, and I told him I had made +bold to take my poor boy in to Dr. Davenal. So then he was put up +about it, and said if we was going to be grand patients of Dr. +Davenal's we didn't want him. And I thought perhaps he mightn't come +again. But he did: he came in last night at dusk." + +"Has your son taken the physic?" + +"Yes, sir. I gave him the last dose afore I come away this morning. +But he's worse; he's a deal worse, sir: maybe it's these hot days +that's trying him." + +Dr. Davenal could have told her that he never would be anything but +worse in this world; a little better, a little worse, according to the +phases of the disease, and then would come the ending. + +"I shall, I expect, be driving out of Hallingham your way this +evening, Mrs. Hundley, and I'll call and see him. Should anything +prevent it this evening, you may look for me tomorrow. I'll be sure to +come." + +The same good, considerate man that he had ever been, sparing no +trouble, no kindness, when life or health was at stake. "I'll be sure +to come!" and the woman knew that he would be sure to come. How few +medical men in his position would have condescended to say to this +poor woman, "I'll be sure to come!" to say it in the kind tone, with +the promise in his eyes as they looked straight into here, as well as +on his lips! He had fellow-practitioners in that town, their time not +half taken up as his was, who would have loftily waved off poor Dame +Hundley, a profitless patient in every sense, and sent her sorrow to +the winds. + +Roger drove quickly on down the street between the rows of gay shops, +and Dr. Davenal sat thinking of that poor woman's sorrow. She was a +widow, and this was her only son. Did the anticipated loss of that son +strike on the chords of his own heart, and send them vibrating? _He_ +had lost a son, and under unhappy auspices. Save that woman's son he +knew he could not: his death fiat had gone forth in the fell disease +which had attacked him: but he might possibly, by the exertion of his +skill, prolong the life by a trifle, and certainly lighten its +sufferings. Mrs. Hundley had toiled for this son, and brought him up +well, in her poor way, and had looked brightly forward to his helping +her on in her old age: as he would have done, for he was steady, +loving, and dutiful. But it was not to be: God was taking him: and the +mother in her alarm and grief scarcely saw why this should be. Not at +the time that affliction falls, in its first brunt, can we see or +believe in the love and wisdom that are always hidden within it. + +Roger pulled up at the doctor's house, set his master down, and turned +his horses round into the side lane--for it could not be called a +street--to drive them to the stables. Dr. Davenal went through the +gate, and wound round the grass-plat to the house. As he was about to +open the door with his latch-key, it was drawn open for him by his +attentive indoor manservant. + +You never saw so respectable a servant in all your life: a very model +of a servant in looks, voice, and manner. About forty years of age, +his tall, slim, active figure gave him the appearance of being a +younger man. His hair, brushed smooth and flat, was of a shiny black, +and his white necktie and orthodox black clothes were without a +spot. But--in spite of his excessive respectability as a man and a +servant--there was something in the sharp features of his white face, +in the furtive black eyes, that would lose their look of slyness when +flung boldly into yours, which had never been cordially liked by Dr. +Davenal. + +"You saw me, Neal?" + +"I was in your room, sir, speaking to Mr. Cray," was the man's answer: +and in his low, respectful tones, his superior accent, there was +really a sound of refinement pleasant to the ear. That refinement of +voice and manner that may be caught from associating with the +educated; not the refinement springing from the mind where it is +innate. + +"Has anybody been here?" + +"Lady Oswald, sir. She apologised for coming when it was not your day +for receiving town-patients, but she said she particularly wished to +see you. I think she scarcely believed me, sir, when I said you were +out." + +Dr. Davenal took his gold repeater from his pocket, where it lay +loose, unattached to any chain, and glanced at it. A valuable watch: +the grateful present of a rich man years ago, who believed that he +owed his life, humanly speaking, to Richard Davenal's care and skill. + +"Scarcely believed you! Why, she knows I am never home much before +three o'clock. It wants two minutes now. Mr. Cray, if he is here, +might have seen her." + +"Mr. Cray has but just come, sir. I was showing him in when your +carriage drove to the door. Lady Oswald said she would call again +later, sir." + +Two minutes more, when three o'clock should strike, and Dr. Davenal's +door would be beset by patients. By country patients today; on +Tuesdays he would be very busy with them, and the townspeople did +not intrude unnecessarily upon him on that day; all the rest of the +week-days were for them. They would come, these patients, and lay down +their fee of a guinea to the surgeon, as they laid it down for a +physician. Dr. Davenal would see them twice for that; sometimes +more--several times more; he was not a covetous man, and he +distinguished between those who could well afford to pay him, and +those who could not. When these last would timidly put down the +sovereign and shilling, rarely in paper, he would push it back to +them. "No, you paid me last time or so; you don't owe me anything +yet." + +Of far and wide reputation, he had scarcely a minute in the day that +he could call his own, or that was not in some way or other devoted to +his profession. Chief visiting surgeon to the Hallingham Infirmary, +always taking the operations there in difficult cases, part of every +day had to be spent at it. Early in the morning he saw patients at +home, twice a week gratuitously; at a quarter to ten he went out, and +between that time and three o'clock paid his round of calls and +visited the Infirmary. At three he was at home to receive patients +again; at six he dined; and it very rarely happened that he had not +second visits to pay afterwards. Of course this usual routine of duty +was often varied; visits at a distance had to be paid, necessitating +post-horses to his close carriage, if no rail conducted to the place; +patients hovering between life and death must be seen oftener than +once or twice in the day, perhaps in the night; and sometimes a +terrible case of accident would be brought into the Infirmary, +demanding the utmost skill that the most perfect operator could give. +In those cases of accident it was Dr. Davenal who was sent for by the +house-surgeon; none other of the visiting surgeons were so sure as he: +and Dr. Davenal, though he had a whole dining-room full of patients +waiting their turn to go in to him, guinea in hand, abandoned them +all, and strode away to the Infirmary with his fleetest step. + +The dining-room was on the left of the entrance-hall: it wan of large +proportions. Opposite to it, on the right, was a much smaller +apartment, called by way of distinction "Dr. Davenal's room." It was +in this last the doctor saw his patients, who would go into it from +the dining-room, one by one, each in his turn. The two rooms looked to +the front, on either side the door, and the window in each was very +large. They were not bay windows, but were divided into three +compartments, all of which might be opened separately. Dwarf Venetian +blinds were carried up to the first pane in both windows, for the +house was not sufficiently removed from the street to prevent curious +passers-by from gazing in. Behind the doctor's room was another room, +opening from it, the windows of which looked on the evergreens +skirting the very narrow path that ran between the side of the house +and the railings bordering the lane: a path so narrow that nobody was +supposed ever to go down it. This second room was Dr. Davenal's +bedchamber, used by him as such ever since the death of his wife. At +the back of this chamber was another apartment, partially partitioned +into two, one portion being used as a butler's pantry, the other as +Neal's sleeping-closet, which looked to the garden at the rear of the +house. + +Neal had an uncommon partiality for that pantry, and would be in it +all hours of the day or night, though it was never meant that he +should sit in it. It was to all intents and purposes a pantry only, +and a very scantily lighted one. It had a high window of four +square panes, looking dead on the evergreens, very dense just there, +and on nothing else. There was a door by its side, opening on the +evergreens also; and one with a slim figure--as slim as Neal's, for +instance--could go out at that door if so disposed, and entwine +himself along the narrow path, braving the shrubs, past the windows of +Dr. Davenal's bedchamber, and emerge in front of the house. It was +not at all, however, in Neal's stipulated duties to do so. Quite the +contrary. When Neal entered Dr. Davenal's service, he was expressly +ordered to keep that pantry door always fastened. It was impressed +upon him by Miss Davenal that there was no necessity ever to unlock +it: his plate was there, she observed, and light-fingered beggars +frequented Hallingham, as they frequent most other places. + +On the opposite side, behind the dining-room, was the prettiest +apartment in the house. It was called the garden-parlour, and +opened to the garden at the back by means of glass doors. The state +drawing-room was above, over the hall and dining-room, and the +kitchens were downstairs. + +Davenal's room was scantily furnished. A shabby Kidderminster carpet, +a square table, some horsehair chairs, and a writing-desk. Nothing +else, except some books ranged round the walls, and a plaster bust or +two. On the table, which was covered with a green-baize cloth bordered +with yellow, lay some writing and blotting paper by the side of a +large inkstand, and the desk was underneath the table on the carpet. +It was the doctor's habit to keep the desk there; he could not have +told why. If he required to open it, which was very seldom--for he +never used it for writing on--he would lift it to the table and put it +back when he had done with it. Some of his patients sitting at the +table waiting for the doctor to come in, or enlarging on their +complaints as he sat before them, had surreptitiously used it as +a footstool, and the result was a considerably scratched surface of +the polished mahogany; but Dr. Davenal did not move it from its +abiding-place. + +Tilting himself on a chair, in a fashion that threatened an overthrow +backwards, with his feet on the edge of this very desk, sat a young +man, carelessly humming a popular song. You heard Neal tell his master +he was there--Mr. Cray. His face was a sufficiently pleasing one, its +complexion fair, its eyes a light blue. It was not a remarkable face +in anyway; might have been a somewhat insipid one, but for these same +blue eyes that lighted it up, and a gay smile that was ever ready on +it. All that Mr. Cray appeared likely to be remarkable for as yet, was +a habit of pushing his hair back--rather light hair, of a shade +between brown and flaxen, and he pushed it off his forehead +inveterately, at all times and seasons. But what with the blue eyes, +the winning smile, and a very taking voice and manner, he was +beginning to win his way in Hallingham. Dr. Davenal was glad that it +should be so. He had taken this young man, Marcus Cray, by the hand, +had made him his partner, and he desired nothing better than that he +should win his way. + +But to win a way in a town is one thing; to win hearts in it is +another; and Dr. Davenal was certainly not prepared to hear, as he was +about to do, that Mr. Cray had gained one particular heart, and had +come then to ask his, Dr. Davenal's, approbation to his having done +it. + +Neal threw open the door of this room for his master, bowed him in +with the air of a groom of the chambers, and Mr. Cray started from his +tilting position to find his feet. As they stood together his height +was somewhat under the doctor's, and _his_ only reached the middle +height. + +"Is it you, Mark?" said the doctor, quietly, rather surprised that he +should be there at that hour of the day; for Mr. Cray's routine of +duties did not lie at the house of Dr. Davenal. "Any bad report for +me?" + +Mr. Cray had no bad report. He entered upon a different sort of +report, speaking rapidly, but not in the least agitatedly. He wanted +the doctor's consent to his marriage with Miss Caroline Davenal. +Perhaps it was the knowledge that they must so soon be interrupted by +three o'clock and the doctor's country patients, that prompted Mr. +Cray to enter upon the subject at that not over-seasonable hour. +There would be less time for the doctor's objections, he may have +deemed--not that Mr. Cray was one to anticipate objections to any +project he set his fancy on, or to pay much attention to them if they +came. + +Dr. Davenal stood against the wall near the window, looking very grave +in his surprise and, it may be said, vexation. He had never dreamt of +this. Mr. Cray had certainly been intimate with his family; many an +evening when the doctor had been out professionally, Mr. Cray had +spent with them; but he had never given a thought to anything of this +sort arising from it. His connection with Mr. Cray was a professional +connection, and perhaps that fact had blinded his eyes and kept his +thoughts from glancing to the possibility that anything different +might supervene. + +"You look grave, Dr. Davenal," said Mr. Cray, breaking the silence, +and retaining, in a remarkable degree, his self-possession. + +"Yes," replied the doctor, "for Caroline's sake. Mark, I believe I had +cherished more ambitious dreams for her." + +"Ambitious dreams!" repeated Mr. Cray. "She will at least occupy a +position as good as yours, sir." + +"As good as mine!" echoed the doctor. "But when, Mark?--when?" he +added after a pause. + +"In time." + +"Ay--in time. There it is. How long must you wait for it?" + +"We shall rub on until then, doctor. As others do." + +"Mark, I do not think Caroline is one to rub on, as you call it, so +smoothly as some might, unless fortune is smooth about her. Remember +what your income is." + +"It is two hundred a-year," said Mark, pushing his hair from his brow, +and speaking with as much equanimity as though he had said two +thousand. "But I thought perhaps you might be induced to increase +it--for her sake." + +Dr. Davenal pulled open the green Venetian blind and threw the window +higher up, as if the air of the room were growing too hot for him. It +was the window--or rather the compartment of it--nearest to the lane, +and the doctor was fond of keeping it a little raised. Summer and +winter would the passers-by see that window raised behind the green +staves of the blind. + +"Were I to double your income, Mark, and make it four hundred +a-year--a thing which you have no right to expect me to do at present, +or to ask me to do--it would still be an inadequate income for +Caroline Davenal," resumed the doctor, closing the blind again, and +setting his back against it. "I don't believe--it is my opinion, Mark, +and I only give it you as such--that she is one to make the best of a +small income, or to be happy on it." + +Mr. Cray had caught up one of the doctor's pens, and stood opposite to +him picking the feather-end of it off bit by bit. His attitude was a +careless one, and his eyes were bent upon the pen, as if to pick those +pieces off and litter the carpet were of more consequence than looking +at Dr. Davenal. Mr. Cray was inclined to be easy over most things, to +take life coolly, and he was characteristically easy over this. + +"Four hundred a-year is not so small an income," he observed. + +"That depends," said Dr. Davenal. "Incomes are large or small in +comparison; in accordance with the requirements, the habits, the +notions if you will, of those who have to live upon them. Caroline has +enjoyed the advantages derivable from one amounting to three times +four." + +"She may come into that fortune yet," said Mr. Cray. + +The first gleam of real displeasure shone now in the eyes of the +doctor as he threw them searchingly on his partner. "Have you been +counting upon that?--Is it the inducement which has called forth this +proposal?" + +"No," burst forth Mr. Cray, feeling vexed in his turn and speaking +impulsively, as he flung the dilapidated pen back in the inkstand and +drew nearer the doctor. "I declare that I never thought of the money +or the suit; it did not so much as cross my mind; and were Carine +never to have a penny-piece to the end of her life, it would make no +difference. It is her I want; not money." + +Dr. Davenal drew in his lips. "Carine!" They must have become +tolerably intimate for him familiarly to call her that. "Pretty +Carine" was her fond name in the household. + +"It was Caroline herself who spoke of the money," resumed Mark Cray. +"We were consulting together as to how far my two hundred a-year would +keep us, and she remembered the Chancery suit. 'Mark,' she said, 'that +fortune may come to me, and then we should have no care.' It was not I +who thought of it, Dr. Davenal. And I am sure I don't count upon it: +Caroline herself would be wise not to do so. Chancery suits generally +absorb the oyster and leave the shell for the claimants." + +"You have spoken to Caroline, then?" questioned Dr. Davenal. + +Mark pushed off his hair again. "O dear yes." + +"May I ask when?" + +"Well--I don't know," answered Mr. Cray, after considering the point. +"I have been--I have been"-- + +"What?" cried Dr. Davenal, surprised at the unusual hesitation, "Speak +out, Mark." + +"I was going to say I have been making love to her ever so long," +continued Mark, with a laugh. "In fact, sir, we have understood each +other for some time past; but as to the precise period that I actually +spoke out to her by words, I am not sure when it was." + +The contrast between the two men was observable in the silence that +ensued. Dr. Davenal grave, absorbed, full of thought and care; Mr. +Cray self-satisfied, looking as if neither thought nor care had ever +come to him, or could come. He lightly watched the passers-by in the +street, over the Venetian blind of the middle window, nodding and +smiling to any acquaintances that happened to appear. Mr. Cray had +made up his mind to marry Miss Caroline Davenal, and it was entirely +out of his creed to suppose that any insurmountable objection could +supervene. + +"Mark," said Dr. Davenal, interrupting the gentleman as he was +flourishing his hand to somebody, "you must be aware that +circumstances render it imperative upon me to be more than commonly +watchful over the interests of Caroline." + +"Do you think so? But, Dr. Davenal, I would be sure to make her happy. +I would spend my life in it: none would make her as happy as I." + +"How do you know that?" asked Dr. Davenal. + +A smile hovered on the young surgeon's lips. "Because she cares for +me, sir; and for none other in the wide world." + +"I had thought--I had thought that another cared for her," returned +Dr. Davenal, speaking impulsively. "At least, a doubt of it has +sometimes crossed me." + +Mark Cray opened his eyes widely in his astonishment. "Who?" he asked. + +But Dr. Davenal did not satisfy him: not that he had any particular +motive for observing reticence on the point. "It is of no consequence. +I must have been mistaken," was all he said. + +"You will not forbid her to me, sir?" pleaded Mr. Cray. + +A spasm of pain passed across the face of Dr. Davenal; the words had +called up bitter recollections. + +"So long as I live I shall never forbid a marriage to any over whom I +hold control," he said, in a tone of subdued anguish; and Mark Cray +knew where the sting had pointed, and wished in his good-nature he had +not put the question. "I will urge all reflection, caution, prudence +in my power to urge; but I will not forbid. Least of all have I a +right to do so by Caroline." + +The younger man's face lighted up. "Then you will give her to me, Dr. +Davenal?" + +"I give you no promise," was the doctor's answer. "I must have leisure +to reflect on this; it has taken me entirely by surprise. And I must +speak to Caroline. There's plenty of time. To marry yet would indeed +be premature." + +"Premature!" echoed Mr. Cray. + +"Premature in the extreme. A man who does not know how to wait for +good things, Mark, does not deserve them." + +A lady, with a slow walk and pale face, turned in at the front gate. +It was patient the first. Dr. Davenal made no observation; he scarcely +saw her, so deeply had he plunged into thought. Mr. Cray, who stood +closer to the window than a doctor expecting patients generally does +stand, smiled and bowed. + +"It is Mrs. Scott," he observed, as the knocker sounded. "She looks +very ill today." + +Attentive Neal was heard to come forth instantly from his pantry, open +the door, and show the lady into the dining-room. Then he made his +appearance in his master's room. + +"Mrs. Scott, sir!" + +Instead of the "Show her in," as Neal expected, Dr. Davenal merely +nodded. Mr. Cray made a movement to depart, glancing as he did so, at +the very grave face of his senior partner. + +"I have vexed you, sir!" + +"I feel vexed in this first moment, Mark; I can't deny it," was the +candid answer. "It is not altogether that Caroline might have been +expected to do better; it is not exclusively that I think her +peculiarly unfitted for a making-shift life, or that with regard to +her I feel my responsibility is weighty: but it is a mixture of all +three." + +"You consider, perhaps, I have done wrong to ask for her!" + +"I consider you have done wrong to ask for her so prematurely. In your +place, I think I should have waited a little while, until +circumstances had been more propitious." + +"And perhaps have lost Caroline!" + +"Nay," said the doctor; "a girl that cannot wait, and be true while +she waits, is not worth a brass button." + +He quitted the room as he spoke. At the risk of keeping his patients +waiting, he must find and question Caroline. His mind was not at ease. + +Mr. Cray went out at the hall-door. Before Neal, who was on the +alert, had shut it, a carriage drove up to the gate, and stopped +with a clatter. A well-appointed close carriage, its servants in +claret-coloured livery, and its claret-coloured panels bearing the +insignia of England's baronetage--the bloody hand. + +The footman leaped down for his orders. Mr. Cray, stepping across the +lawn, in too much haste to wind round it by means of the gravel-path, +held out his hand with a smile to its only inmate--a little, grey, +nervous-looking woman, in an old-fashioned purple silk dress. + +"How are you today, Lady Oswald?" + +And Neal, with his quiet, cat-like steps, had followed in the wake of +Mr. Cray, unseen by that gentleman, and stood behind him in his +respectful attention: there might be some message to carry in to his +master--leaving three patients, who had entered the gate together, to +show themselves in alone. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +LADY OSWALD'S LETTER. + + +The room at the back, looking into the garden, on the opposite side of +the passage to Neal's pantry, was the most charming apartment in all +the house. Not for its grandeur; it was small and very simple indeed, +compared to the grand drawing-room upstairs: not for its orderly +neatness, for it was usually in a litter; a fascinating, +pleasant-looking litter; and perhaps that made its charm. It was +called the garden-parlour. The great drawing-room was kept sacred by +its presiding mistress, to whom you will soon have the honour of an +introduction: sacred, and uncomfortably tidy. Not so much as a +pocket-handkerchief must be laid for an instant on one of its handsome +tables, its luxurious satin sofas and ottomans; not a footstool must +be drawn from its appointed place, let tired legs be hanging down +with weariness; not a hand-screen must be removed from the +handsomely-furnished mantelpiece, were lovely cheeks being roasted to +crimson. Methodically proper, everything in its appointed spot, must +that room be kept: a book put down in the wrong place was treason; a +speck of dust all but warning to Jessy, the unhappy housemaid. The +dining-room was tidy, too; no extraneous things were allowed there, it +must be kept free for the reception of the patients: the "Times" +newspaper and the newest local journal lay daily on the large mahogany +table, and there the litter ended. Perhaps, therefore, it was no +wonder that that other room was not always in the order it might have +been. + +A charming room, nevertheless, on a sunny day. Watercoloured drawings +and pencil sketches in plain frames lined the delicately-papered +walls, loose music was strewed near the piano and harp, books lay +anywhere, pretty little ornamental trifles met the eye, and fancy-work +might be seen in more places than one. The glass doors at the window, +large and high, stood open to the few wide steps that led to the green +lawn--a lawn particularly grateful on a sultry summer's day. + +For that lawn lay in the shade; the sun in the afternoon shone full on +the front of the house, and the lawn was sheltered. The scent of the +roses, the syringa, the heliotrope, and other powerfully-perfumed +flowers, filled the air, and butterflies and bees flitted from blossom +to blossom. It was quite a contrast to the other side of the house, +with its busy street, its hot pavement, its jostling traversers, and +its garish sunshine. Here lay the cool shade on the mossy lawn--the +quiet and the repose of the tinted flowers. + +Seated on the lawn, on a garden-bench, was a young lady reading. A +graceful girl of middle height, with large hazel eyes quite luminous +in their brightness, a well-formed gentle face, rather pale, and brown +hair that took almost a golden tinge when the sun shone through it. +There was no very great beauty to boast of in the face, but it was one +of those that the eye likes to rest upon--and love. A far more +beautiful face was that of another young girl, who was restlessly +moving amidst the side clusters of shrubs and flowers, plucking the +choicest. A face whose beauty could not be denied, with its dark +violet eyes, its nearly black hair, and the damask complexion all too +bright: these strangely brilliant complexions do not always go with +the soundest of constitutions. She was little, fairy-like, somewhat +pettish and wilful in her movements. A stranger would say they were +sisters, and be puzzled to tell which of the two was the elder, which +the younger. There was really no likeness between them, save in the +dress--that was precisely similar: a thin gauzy silken material, cool +but rich, and no doubt expensive, with a good deal of delicate +coloured trimming upon it, and open sleeves over white lace. Sisters +they were not--only cousins. + +Suddenly there was a scream from the midst of the flowers, and the +young lady on the garden-bench raised her eyes to speak. + +"What is it, Caroline?" + +She came forth in her beauty, flinging down the flowers she had +gathered, and holding out the back of her hand. A deep scratch lay +right across it. + +"Just look! I am always tearing myself with those wild-rose brambles!" + +"Poor hand! Sit still, Carine; it is too hot for anything else today. +What do you want with the flowers, that you need trouble yourself to +get them?" + +"I don't know what I want with them. Nothing. Picking them helped to +pass away the time." + +"Why are you so restless this afternoon!" + +"Am I restless? One can't be always as quiet as you--read, read, read +for ever." + +An amused smile parted the reader's lips, bringing to view the pretty +teeth, so white and regular. "I will retort in nearly your own words, +Carine--am I quiet? I think not." + +"Yes you are, except when the boys are at home. You are noisy enough +then. I shall go and eat some fruit." + +"Lend me your pencil first, Caroline." + +Miss Caroline Davenal put her hand into her pocket and could not find +her pencil. "I must have left it somewhere indoors," she said. "You'll +see it if you look." + +"I must mark a passage here." + +"What will Mr. Oswald Cray say to your marking his book?" + +"Mr. Oswald Cray asked me to mark anything that struck me. It is a +delightful book." + +Caroline Davenal went joyously down the garden, singing a snatch of a +song, as she put her handkerchief over her head to guard it from the +sun. The upper half of the long piece of ground was all pleasure and +flowers; the lower half all usefulness, vegetables and fruit-trees. +Her cousin, book in hand, went up the steps and in at the glass doors +to find a pencil. She was bending over the centre table, searching for +one, when Dr. Davanel entered the room. + +"Is Caroline here?" + +"She is in the garden, papa." + +Dr. Davenal advanced to the window, and stood at it, ostensibly +looking for Caroline. He could not see her; the fruit-trees in the +distance had effectually hidden her, and the doctor appeared lost in +thought. Presently he spoke, without looking round. + +"Sara, did you know that--that--in short, have you ever observed that +an attachment was arising between Mr. Cray and Caroline?" + +Sara looked up, but did not at once reply. The question was one, put +from a father to a daughter, that brought up the blushes on her cheeks +in her maiden modesty. + +"N--o," she replied, at length. But the no, in its hesitation, sounded +almost as much like yes. + +"My dear, I did not ask you to deceive me," was the grave answer; "I +ask for the truth." + +"O papa, you know--you _know_ I would not deceive you," she replied, +quite in distress. And Dr. Davenal, pained by the tone, drew her to +him and kissed her cheek. He knew how good, how loving, how dutiful, +was this daughter of his. + +"The real truth is this, papa. Very recently, only since a day or two, +a faint suspicion has arisen in my mind that it might be so. Caroline +has not spoken, and I have had nothing to guide me to it, except the +fact that Mr. Cray is so much here. Indeed, I do not know whether it +is so or not." + +"I believe I have been a little blind," observed Dr. Davenal speaking +quite as much to himself as to his daughter. "The fact is, Sara, I had +a notion in my head that some one else had taken a fancy to Caroline; +and I suppose I could see nothing beyond it. I speak of Mr. Oswald +Cray." + +It was well that Dr. Davenal's eyes were fixed on the garden, or he +might have wondered at the startled change in his daughter's face. It +had turned of one glowing crimson. She moved again to the table, and +stood there with her back to the light. + +"I suppose I was mistaken; that there was nothing in it, Sara?" + +"Nothing, papa, I think; nothing whatever," came the low-toned answer. + +"But Mr. Oswald Cray does come here a great deal when he is at +Hallingham?" pursued the doctor, as if willing to debate the question. + +The crimson grew deeper. Dr. Davenal did not seem to observe that +there was no answer. + +"How the idea came to arise, I do not understand. Heaven knows +I should be the last man in the world to scheme and plan out +marriages--for Caroline or for anybody else. Such matters are best +left to come about of themselves. But, Sara, I wish one thing--that it +had been Mr. Oswald Cray, instead of Mark." + +"Do you, papa?" with the blushing face still turned from him. + +"Ay, I do. I could have _trusted_ her to Oswald. _How_ could she +choose the other in preference to him?" + +Sara lifted her face. Eager words were on her lips--to the effect that +perhaps Mr. Oswald Cray might not have chosen Caroline. But they died +away unspoken. + +"I wish you would go and tell her I want her here, Sara." + +Sara slipped by the doctor, passed over the cool lawn to the distant +sunny paths, and met her cousin. + +"Papa wants you, Carine." + +Caroline recoiled in her self-conscious timidity. "What about?" she +whispered. "Did he say what about?" + +"I think," said Sara slowly, scarcely knowing whether she was doing +right to speak or not, "that it is something about Mr. Cray." + +For a moment Caroline made no rejoinder. She walked on and had nearly +gained the lawn when she turned her head again. Sara had lingered +behind. + +"Sara! Sara! Did he seem angry?" she whispered. + +"Not exactly angry. Vexed, I thought." + +Dr. Davenal stood at the glass doors still. He put out his hand as she +approached him. + +"Did you want me, Uncle Richard?" + +"Mr. Cray has been making an application to me concerning you. +Caroline, were you cognisant of it?" + +"Now, Uncle Richard! If you are going to be cross, I--I shall be so +unhappy." + +"When did you ever know me cross?" he gravely rejoined, and Caroline +Davenal burst into tears. + +"Caroline, my dear, we must put away this childishness. You are but +affecting it, and this is a serious moment. I must talk to you very +earnestly. Come in, Sara. It is cooler indoors than out." + +Sara, who in her delicacy of feeling would have remained outside, went +within the room and sat down to the table with her book. Caroline had +dried her passing tears, and was stealing a glance at Dr. Davenal. + +"You _are_ angry, Uncle Richard." + +"If I am, Caroline, it is for your sake; a loving anger. My chief +emotion, I believe, is surprise. I never gave a thought to this; not a +suspicion of it crossed me." + +"I fancied you must have guessed it," was the murmured answer. + +"Guessed that! No, child. But the blindness was my own, I believe. +When we ourselves place one view deliberately before us, it tends to +shut out others. I had got it into my head, Carine, that it was to +your score we were indebted for the frequent visits of Mr. Oswald +Cray." + +Caroline lifted her face, and Dr. Davenal observed how genuine was the +surprise depicted on it. "Uncle Richard!" + +"I see. I see now, child, that the idea was void of foundation. But, +Caroline," he gravely added, "I would rather it had been Oswald than +Mark. All the world must respect Oswald Cray." + +"I should think it _was_ void of foundation!" indignantly returned +Caroline, resenting the disparagement cast on Mark. "Why, Uncle +Richard, Oswald Cray likes Sara a thousand times better than he likes +me! But not with that sort of liking," she hastened to add, lest a +construction should be put upon the words which most certainly she +never meant to put. "General liking, I mean. Oswald Cray's heart is +buried in his ambition, in his busy life; he gives little thought to +aught else. Uncle Richard, I would not many Oswald Cray if he were +worth his weight in gold. He would find fault with me all day long." + +"Well, well; let us drop Oswald Cray, and return to the point, +Caroline. If"---- + +"Lady Oswald, sir." + +The interruption came from Neal. They had not heard him open the door, +and the announcement was the first intimation of his presence. Of +course all private conversation was at an end, and the doctor half +groaned as he turned to Lady Oswald. She came in, her warm cashmere +scarf drawn round her, and her purple gown held up gracefully on the +right side, after the style of walking in the fashionable world in the +days when Lady Oswald was young. + +Lady Oswald was one of those imaginary invalids who give more trouble +to their medical attendants than a whole score of patients with real +maladies. Fussy and fidgety, she exacted constant attendance from Dr. +Davenal. She paid him well; but she worried him nearly out of his +life. On his leisure days, when he could really afford the visit to +her, and the quarter-of-an-hour's chat spent in condoling with her +upon her array of ailments and in giving her the gossip of Hallingham, +he spared the time with a good grace; but in a season of pressure he +did chafe at having to pay this daily visit, when dying men were +waiting for him. He had been with her that morning between ten and +eleven: Neal had said she called while he was out; and now here she +was again! Once or twice latterly he had sent Mr. Cray in his stead, +and she had not seemed to object to it. But she had come for a +different object now. + +"Only two minutes' conversation with you, doctor," she said, in a +voice naturally feeble. "You must spare it me, though it is Tuesday +afternoon, and I see your dining-room's getting full. Neal said you +were here, so I came in straight, not to be confounded with the +patients. Only look at this letter which was delivered to me this +morning, and see what it must have been to my nerves. Parkins has been +giving me red lavender ever since." + +"But you know, Lady Oswald, that I object to your taking red +lavender." + +"What am I to do when a shock like that comes to me? Do read it, +doctor." + +Dr. Davenal, feeling that he had no time for letters or nerves just +then, was yet compelled in good manners to accede. He opened the note, +which was a very short one, and ran his eyes over the contents; once +and then again; the first time he did not quite master them. + +It was written to Lady Oswald by her landlord, a gentleman of the name +of Low. It appeared that Mr. Low had some little time back received an +intimation from the railway company that they should require to take a +small portion of the grounds attached to the residence occupied by +Lady Oswald, for the purpose of erecting certain sheds necessary at +that bend of the line. This note was to inform her that he had given +his consent, and it ended with a polite hope and belief that neither +the sheds nor the process of their erection would prove any annoyance +to her. + +Dr. Davenal folded the letter when read. Lady Oswald looked at him. +"What would you advise me to do?" she asked in a fretful tone. + +"Indeed, Lady Oswald, I do not see what you can do," he thoughtfully +answered, "except submit to it." + +"Submit to it! submit to their erecting railway sheds in my very +garden!" she ejaculated in astonishment. + +"From the very first hour that I knew they were carrying that new line +of rail close to your grounds, I felt sure it would prove an annoyance +to you in some shape or other," observed Dr. Davenal, speaking more to +himself than to Lady Oswald. "It is a great pity, but we all have to +submit occasionally to these untoward things, Lady Oswald, as we go +through life." + +"I shall not submit to this," she resolutely returned. "They have no +more right to erect sheds on my grounds, than they have to erect them +upon me. I shall forbid it." + +"But the power to do so does not lie with you," objected Dr. Davenal. +"You are but a tenant on lease. In point of fact, I do not suppose +such power lies with any one, not even with Low himself. The railway +companies seem to do pretty much as they please in the kingdom. Mr. +Low will be sure to get well paid, and his consent, according to the +tenor of this note, is already given." + +Lady Oswald pushed her grey hair nervously from her brow. "Dr. +Davenal, I don't _believe_ that the law has power so to annoy innocent +people and drive them from their homes. Do you know how long I have +lived in that house?" + +"A great many years now. Ever since the death of Sir John." + +"I have lived in it fourteen years, and I will not be driven forth at +their pleasure. I expected to die in it, and I will die in it. If they +attempt to touch my grounds, I shall have them warned off as +trespassers, and I will keep a couple of policemen on the watch day +and night." + +Dr. Davenal did not then dispute the policy of the avowed plan with +her, or point out its futility. In her present mood he knew it would +be useless, even if he had the time, to attempt it. + +"Because I am a widow woman they think that they can put upon me with +impunity," she resumed; "but they will find their mistake. I have +telegraphed for Mr. Oswald Cray, and expect him down by night-time." + +"You have telegraphed for him?" cried Dr. Davenal. + +"Of course I have. Who else is there to take my part, doctor, save him +or you? That letter was delivered just after you left me this morning, +and I seat to the telegraph at once. Oswald can fight them; and he has +influence: they will be clever to overreach _him_." + +Dr. Davenal opened his mouth to speak, but suppressed the impulsive +words upon his tongue. To what end recall to Lady Oswald's attention +the fact that Mr. Oswald Cray, as one of the engineers to the line, +must necessarily be against her, if she had not the sense to remember +it? He said a few words to the effect that he _must_ go to his +patients, gave Lady Oswald a half promise to see her that night, and +left her to be entertained by his daughter. + +"My dear, why need Miss Carine have run away from me the moment I came +in?" + +Sara smiled. "Not from you, Lady Oswald; I think she wanted to run +from us all. And perhaps she thought your visit was only to papa." + +"How is Miss Davenal?" + +"Quite well. Will you see her? She is in the drawing-room." + +Lady Oswald hesitated. + +"My dear, of course I should be glad to see her; I wish to pay her +every respect; but--you know it is so great a trial to me--with my +little weak voice. However, I will go up, as I am here. _Is_ her +deafness better?" + +"Not at all," was Sara's answer. "I don't suppose it ever will be +better. It gets worse, we think, as she grows old." + +"Grows what?" cried Lady Oswald. + +Sara had quick perceptions, and she felt that the word old, as applied +to her aunt, had offended Lady Oswald's ear. How changed do our ideas +of age become as our own years change! To Sara Davenal, with her +twenty years, her aunt, verging on fifty, was old; to Lady Oswald, who +would count seventy-one her next birthday Miss Davenal seemed but as a +youngish woman! + +Lady Oswald stepped slowly up the wide staircase, one foot at a +time. Sara followed her, and threw open the door of the handsome +drawing-room. A large square room, beautiful as a show place; and to +keep it beautiful was the hobby of Miss Bettina Davenal. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +MISS BETTINA DAVENAL. + + +Miss Davenal sat in her usual seat near the window, her straight +figure bolt upright, her knitting needles plying fast their work, the +small inlaid table at her right hand holding the open pearl basket of +wool. How many stockings, socks, sleeves, and chest-protectors, were +knitted by Miss Davenal in the course of the year, the poor alone +could tell--for they were the recipients. Hallingham surmised that she +must spend half her income upon wool. There's no doubt she was a +charitable well-meaning woman at heart, but she did not always show it +in her manner. + +A beautiful woman in her day must have been Bettina Davenal, with her +pure complexion and her classical features. But the grey eyes had a +cold hard look in them now; and the nose, across the high bridge of +which the delicate skin was drawn so tightly, was almost painfully +thin. The name Bettina had been bestowed on her at the request of a +godmother, a lady of Italian origin; not an ugly name, but somewhat +long for the everyday use of English tongues, and those familiar with +her occasionally shortened it into "Miss Bett," a liberty that was +resented by Miss Davenal. She laboured under that troublesome defect, +intense deafness, and also under the no less troublesome conviction +(not unfrequently accompanying it) that she was not deaf at all. Her +hair of a pale flaxen, soft and abundant still, was worn in smooth +braids, and was surmounted by a rich lace head-dress, very high. + +She need not have added to her height; she was tall enough without it; +as was seen when she rose to receive Lady Oswald. A straight-down, +thin, upright figure, without crinolines or cordings, her grey damask +dress falling in wrapt folds around her as she held forth her mittened +hand. + +"I hope I see you better, Lady Oswald." + +The tone was unnaturally high: you may have noticed that it is so +sometimes in deaf people. Lady Oswald, with her weak nerves, would +have put her hands to her ears had she done as she liked. + +"I am not well today. I am worse than usual. I have had a most +unpleasant shock, Miss Davenal; an upset." + +"A what?" cried Miss Davenal, putting her hand to her ear. + +"An upset." + +"Bless my heart!" cried Miss Davenal; "did your carriage run away?" + +"Tell her, Sara," groaned Lady Oswald. "I shall be hoarse for two days +if I call out like this." + +"Lady Oswald has had some unpleasant news, aunt. She has received +notice that they are going to run the railway through her grounds." + +Miss Davenal caught a word or so, and looked terrified. "Received +notice that they are going to run a railway through her! What do you +mean?" + +"Not through her," said Sara, putting her lips close to the deaf ears. +"Through her grounds." + +"But I'd not let them," cried Miss Davenal, hearing now. "I'd not let +them, Lady Oswald." + +"I won't," screamed Lady Oswald at the top of her voice. "I have sent +for Mr. Oswald Cray." + +Miss Davenal was dubious. "What good will that do? Is it to pelt upon +them? I hate those wicked railways." + +"Is what to pelt upon them?" + +"The clay. Didn't you say you had sent for some clay?" + +"Oh dear! Sara, do make her understand." + +Poor Sara had to do her best. "Not clay, Aunt Bettina; Mr. Oswald +Cray." + +Aunt Bettina nodded her stately head. "I like Mr. Oswald Cray. He is a +favourite of mine, Lady Oswald." + +"As he is of everybody's, Miss Davenal," returned Lady Oswald. "I'd +have remembered him in my will but for offending the Oswald family. +They are dreadfully prejudiced." + +"Pinched!" echoed Miss Davenal. "Where's he pinched?" + +"Prejudiced, Aunt Bettina. Lady Oswald says the Oswald family are +prejudiced." + +"You need not roar out in that way, Sara; I can hear, I hope. I am not +so deaf as all that comes to. What's he prejudiced at?--the railway? +He ought not to be, he is one of its engineers." + +"Not Mr. Oswald Cray, aunt. The Oswald family. They are prejudiced +against him." + +"If you speak to me again in that manner, Sara I shall complain to +your papa. One would think you were calling out to somebody at the top +of the chimney. As if I and Lady Oswald did not know that the Oswald +family are prejudiced against Oswald Cray? We don't want you to tell +it us from a speaking-trumpet; we knew it before you were born. I +don't think he cares for their prejudices, Lady Oswald," Miss Davenal +added, turning to her. + +"He would be very foolish if he did. _I_ don't. They are prejudiced, +you know, against me." + +"I think the world must be coming to an end, with all these rails and +stations and sheds," fretfully spoke Miss Davenal. + +"The news has made me ill," said Lady Oswald, who liked nothing half +so well as to speak of her own ailments. "I was getting better, as Dr. +Davenal can tell you, but this will throw me back for weeks. My maid +has been giving me red lavender ever since." + +Miss Davenal looked at her with a puzzled stare. + +"That is poison, is it not?" + +"What is poison?" + +"Red lead." + +"I said red lavender," cried Lady Oswald. "It is very good for the +spirits: a few drops taken on a lump of sugar. Red lav-en-der." + +Miss Davenal resolutely shook her head. "Nasty stuff!" she cried. "Red +lavender never did anybody good yet, Lady Oswald. Leave it off; leave +it off." + +"I don't touch it once in a month in an ordinary way," screamed Lady +Oswald. "Only when anything beyond common arises to flurry me." + +Miss Bettina stared at her. "What common is flooded? It is dry +weather." + +Lady Oswald cast a helpless look at Sara. "Flurried, Aunt Bettina," +said the young lady. "Lady Oswald said when she was flurried." + +Miss Bettina was not in the least grateful for the assistance. She +pushed away her niece with her elbow. It was in fact next to high +treason for Sara to attempt to assist Miss Davenal's deafness. "I +should not allow things to flurry me, Lady Oswald. I never was +flurried in my life." + +"Temperaments are constituted differently," returned Lady Oswald. + +"Temper!" cried Miss Davenal, as angrily as politeness would allow +her, "what has temper to do with it? Who accuses me of temper?" + +"Tem-per-a-ment," corrected Lady Oswald, cracking her voice. "Sara, I +_must_ go." + +She rose quickly; she could not stand the interview any longer; but in +spite of the misapprehensions they took leave of each other cordially. +The same scene occurred every time they met: as it did whenever +conversation was attempted with Miss Davenal. It cannot be denied that +she heard better at times than at others, occasionally tolerably well; +and hence perhaps the source, or partially so, of her own belief that +her deafness was but of a slight nature. When alone with the familiar +family voices, and in quiet times, she could hear; but in moments of +surprise and excitement, in paying or receiving visits, the ears were +nearly hopeless. + +Neal attended Lady Oswald to her carriage, waiting there at the gate +with its powdered coachman and footman, to the gratification of the +juvenile street Arabs of Hallingham; the same ever-assiduous, superior +servant, quite dignified in his respectability. Lady Oswald believed +him perfection--that there was not another such servant in the world. + +"Your mistress grows more distressingly deaf than ever, Neal," she +remarked, as he put her dress straight in the carriage, her own +footman resigning the office to him with almost the same submission +that he might have resigned it to Mr. Cray, had the young surgeon been +at hand to assist her in, as he had been to assist her out. + +"She does, my lady. It is a great affliction. Home," loftily added +Neal to the servants: and he bowed low as the carriage drove away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +OSWALD CRAY. + + +The house of Lady Oswald was an old-fashioned red brick mansion of +moderate size, two storeys in height only, and with gable-ends. It was +exceedingly comfortable inside, and was surrounded by rather extensive +grounds. At the opposite end of the town to the station, it might have +been thought that that vulgar innovation, the railroad, so especially +obnoxious to Lady Oswald, would at least have spared it offensive +contact; but that was not to be. There was no accounting for the +curves and tracks taken by those lines of the junction, and one of +them had gone off at a tangent to skirt the very boundary of her land. + +Seated in the front drawing-room, the one chiefly used by Lady Oswald, +was a woman of some forty years, attired in a neat green-coloured +gown, and cap with white ribbons. This was Parkins, Lady Oswald's +maid, recently promoted to be somewhat of a companion, for Lady Oswald +began to dislike being much alone. A well-meaning faithful woman, with +weak eyes and weak will, and given to tears on very slight occasions. +Parkins had also been lately made housekeeper as well as companion, +and the weekly accounts connected with that department threatened to +be the bane of Parkins's life. Add them up she could not; make +them come right she could not: and she could get neither mercy +nor assistance from Lady Oswald, who had always been her own +account-keeper, and never found any trouble in it. Two tradesmen's +books were before Parkins now, and she was bending over them in +despair, during her lady's absence. + +"I can't as much as read the figures," she groaned; "how, then, am I to +add 'em up? Last week there was an overcharge of ten shillings in this +very butcher's book, and my lady found it out, and hasn't done talking +to me for it yet. It _isn't_ my fault; all folks are not born with a +head for figures. And why can't tradespeople make their figures +plain?" + +Had she not been so absorbed by the book and its complications she +might have seen the approach of a visitor. A tall and very gentlemanly +man of some eight-and-twenty years, with a countenance that would have +been remarkably frank and pleasing but for the expression of pride +pervading it: nay, that _was_ frank and pleasing in spite of the +pride. He could not help the pride; it was innate, born with him; he +did not make his own face, and the lines of pride were inherent in it. +The pale features were regular, the hair dark, the eyes dark blue, and +lying rather deep in the head, good and honest eyes they were, +searching and truthful: and when he smiled, as he was smiling now, it +made full amends for deficiencies, obliterating every trace of pride, +and imparting a singular charm to the face. + +His approach had been discerned by one of the maid-servants, and she +had come to the hall-door and was holding it open. It was at her he +had smiled, for in manner he was exceedingly affable. Perhaps the very +consciousness of the pride that clung to him, and was his besetting +sin, rendered him resolute that in manner at least he should not +offend. + +"How are you, Susan? Is Lady Oswald within?" + +"No, sir, my lady's out," was the girl's reply, as she dropped a +curtsey. "Parkins is in the drawing-room, sir, I think: I daresay she +can tell whether my lady will be long." + +He laid on the hall-table a small roll of paper or parchment that he +carried, threw off a dusty light overcoat, and took up the roll again. +Susan opened the drawing-room door. + +"Mr. Oswald Cray." + +Parkins gave a scream. Parkins was somewhat addicted to giving screams +when startled or surprised. Starting up from her chair and her +perplexing books, she stood staring at him, as if unable to take in +the fact of his presence. Parkins believed in marvels, and thought one +had been enacted then. + +"Oh, sir! how _did_ you come? You must have travelled surely on the +telegraph wires?" + +"Not I," answered Mr. Oswald Cray, smiling at her astonishment, but +not understanding its cause. "I left London by rail this morning, +Parkins." + +"A telegraph message went up for you an hour or two ago, sir," +continued Parkins. "My lady has had bad news, sir, and she sent for +you." + +"I had no message. I must have left London previously. What bad news +has she had?" + +"It's them railway people, sir," explained Parkins. "They have been +writing a letter to my lady--leastways the landlord has--saying that +they are going to take these grounds and build upon them. I haven't +seen her so upset for a long while, sir. When, she got a bit better +from the shock and had sent to the telegraph, she ordered the +carriage, and set off to tell Dr. Davenal." + +"Do you expect her to be long?" he asked, thinking that if so, he +might go about some business he had to do, and come back again. + +"I expect her every minute, sir; she has been gone a great deal longer +than I thought she'd be away." + +He walked to the window, unrolled the parchment, and began to look at +it. It seemed a sort of map, drawn with ink. Parkins, who, whatever +might be the companionship she was admitted to by her mistress, knew +her place better than to remain in the presence of Mr. Oswald Cray, +gathered up her account-book and her pen and ink, and prepared to quit +the room. + +"Shall I order you any refreshment, sir?" she stopped to ask. + +"Not any, thank you." + +She closed the door, leaving him deep in his parchment. Another +minute, and the carriage was seen bowling quickly up. He went out to +meet it: and Lady Oswald gave a scream as Parkins had done, and wanted +to know how he had got there. + +"I came down on my own account, Lady Oswald," he said, as he gave her +his arm to lead her in. "My visit is a purposed one to you." + +"I'm sure you are very good, Oswald! It is not often that you honour +me with a visit. When you are staying in the neighbourhood for days +and days, a simple call of ceremony is about all I get." + +His lips parted with that peculiar smile which made his face at these +moments so attractive. "When I am in the neighbourhood, Lady Oswald, +business nearly overwhelms me. I have not much time to call my own." + +Lady Oswald untied her bonnet, and threw herself into a chair: only +the drive to Dr. Davenal's and back had tired her. Parkins came into +the room to take her things, but she waved her hand sharply, impatient +at the interruption. "Presently, presently,"--and Parkins left them +alone again. + +"Oswald, do you know what a cruel letter I have had this morning? They +want to bring that wretched railway through my grounds." + +"Not the railway," he said, correcting her. "They are proposing to +build some sheds upon the boundaries of them." + +"You know about it, then?" + +"Yes; I came down to acquaint you, and I am sorry you should have +heard of it from any one else first. I could have spared you one-half +the alarm and annoyance it seems to have caused. Look here. This is +the plan." + +He spread the paper out before her. He pointed out the very small +portion of the grounds, and in the remotest part of them, not in sight +of the house or the parts ever walked in by herself, that was proposed +to be taken: he assured her that the projected sheds were but small +sheds, for barrows, trucks, and such things to stand under; that they +would, in point of fact, be no annoyance to her, that she never need +see or hear them. All in vain. Lady Oswald had set her mind bitterly +against the innovation; she could neither be persuaded nor soothed, +and she felt vexed with Mr. Oswald Cray that he should attempt it. + +"It is very well for you to praise it," she resentfully said. "Your +interest lies in the line, not in me. Perhaps they have bribed you to +say all this." + +For a single moment his face grew dark, and its haughty pride shone +out quite repellently; the next he was smiling his sweet smile. None +knew better than Oswald Cray how rebelliously false the tongue is apt +to be in moments of irritation. + +"Dear Lady Oswald, you know that it is foreign to my nature to cause +needless pain. When this news reached my ears a week ago, for the plan +did not originate with me, I bestirred myself to see whether it might +not be relinquished; whether, in short, the sheds could not be erected +on any other portion of the line. But I find that there is no other +portion available so close to the station." + +"There's that piece of waste ground midway between this and the +station," she answered. "Why can they not take that?" + +"Another station is to be made there. One for goods." + +"Another station! Do they think to bring all the world to Hallingham?" + +"They are bringing a great many lines of rails to it." + +"But they need not disturb my possessions to make room for them!" she +quickly retorted. "Surely your interest might get this spared to me!" + +In vain Mr. Oswald Cray strove to convince her that on this point he +had no influence whatever. Nay, he confessed to her, in his candid +truth, that as one of the engineers to the line, he could only +acquiesce in the expediency of that part being used for the sheds, +that there was no other spot so available. + +"I drew this plan out myself," he said, "partly from our charts of the +line, partly from my personal recollection of your grounds. I wished +to demonstrate to you how very little a portion of them is, in fact, +required. Will you put on your bonnet again, Lady Oswald, and walk +with me to the spot? I will show you the exact measure they intend to +take." + +"No, I won't," said Lady Oswald angrily. "And you ought not to turn +against me, Oswald. It is the principle of the thing I go upon; the +resistance that, in my opinion, should be universally made to these +intrusive railways, which are cutting up the country and ruining it. +If they wanted to take but one foot of my ground; if they only wanted +that dry ditch that skirts it, they should never have it by my +consent, and I will hold out against it to the last. Now you know." + +She sat nervously unpinning her cashmere scarf, her hands trembling so +that she could scarcely hold the gold pins as she took them out. +Oswald Cray slowly rolled up the parchment. He had come down from town +at a very busy moment, when he could ill spare the time, with the sole +hope of soothing the news to her, of putting her in good humour with +what must inevitably be. He had received many little kindnesses from +her in his life, especially in his boyhood; and he was one to treasure +up the remembrance of kindness shown, and repay it if he could. + +It may seem a very trifling thing, this project of erecting a few low, +trumpery sheds; as may Lady Oswald's inveterate objection to it. But +it is on trifles that the great events of life turn; and, but for this +project of the sheds, this not-to-be-conquered refusal, the greater +portion of this story need never have been written. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +RETROSPECT. + + +Of some note in the county, though poor for their rank, were the +Oswalds of Thorndyke. Thorndyke, their country seat, was situated +about five miles from Hallingham, and had been generally made the +constant residence of the reigning baronet. It was a fine old place; +the dyke surrounding it, or dike, as you may like to spell it--from +which the place no doubt had partially taken its name--was of +remarkable width. It was filled up in the time of Lady Oswald's +husband, the _third_ baronet of his name; and fine pleasure-grounds +might be seen now where unwholesome water had once stagnated. Possibly +that water had been the remote and unsuspected cause of the dying off +of so many of the house's children--as they had died in the old days. + +The _second_ baronet, Sir Oswald Oswald, lost five children in +succession. Two daughters and a son alone lived to grow up: and +perhaps it had been as well for the peace of Sir Oswald and his wife +had those three likewise died in infancy; for pain they all brought +home in one shape or other. They were self-willed and disobedient; +preferring their own ways. The son wished to go into the army: his +father had the greatest possible aversion to it; but he persisted, and +went, in spite of remonstrance. The younger daughter, Frances, married +an old man for his rank: Sir Oswald objected to it; the man's +character was of startling notoriety; but Frances took her own will +and married him. A few short months only, and she was back again at +Thorndyke, driven to take refuge from her husband in her father's +home. The elder daughter, Mary, married Mr. Cray, a gentleman of no +account in comparison with the Oswalds of Thorndyke. To this the most +strenuous objection of all was made by Sir Oswald and his lady--in +their haughty pride they looked down with utter contempt upon Mr. +Cray. Miss Oswald disputed the grounds of their objection, urging that +Mr. Cray, though of no particular note, was at least of gentle blood +and breeding, and though his means might be small, _she_ deemed them +sufficient. It was of no use: she could make no impression on her +father and mother, she could not shake their refusal of consent, and +she married Mr. Cray without it. Public opinion on the matter was +divided. Some took Miss Oswald's part. She was of an age to judge for +herself, being, in fact, no longer very young; and there appeared no +good reason, save that he was not wealthy, for objecting to Mr. Cray. +But her family--father, mother, brother, sister--bitterly resented it, +and said she had disgraced them. + +Mr. Cray had about eight hundred a-year, derivable from money in the +funds, and he lived in the Abbey at Hallingham. The Oswalds enjoyed +some three or four thousand a-year, landed property, and they lived at +Thorndyke, and were baronets, and very grand. Of course there was a +great difference; but some thought the difference might have been got +over by Sir Oswald. Some went so far as to say that Mr. Cray, with his +fine manly person and good conduct, was a better man than that +shrivelled old lord who was breaking the heart of his poor wife, the +younger daughter. Sir Oswald and Lady Oswald could not be brought +to see it; none of the Oswalds could see it; and, take them +altogether--brothers, cousins, uncles and nephews--there was a large +family of them. + +Mary Oswald married Mr. Cray, and he brought her home to Hallingham +Abbey, and her friends never saw her after; that is, they never would +recognise her. Many a Tuesday, on which day the family from Thorndyke +would drive into Hallingham in their carriage and four--as was the +habit with some of the county people--did they pass her without +notice. They would be in the large close carriage, the old baronet +and my lady, and their daughter Frances--who had no home now but +theirs--opposite to them, and they would see Mrs. Cray at the Abbey +windows, alone or with her husband, as the case might be, for their +road took them past it, and all the greeting they gave her was a stony +stare. Time went on, and there appeared a baby at her side, a pretty +little fellow in long petticoats, held in his nurse's arms. That baby +was named Oswald Oswald, and was the Mr. Oswald Cray whom you have +seen: but the stare from the baronet's carriage was not less stony +than before. + +A twelvemonth more, when Oswald could just begin to run about in his +pretty white frocks, and get his sturdy legs into grief, his hands +into mischief, another child was born, and died. Poor Mrs. Cray died +herself a few weeks afterwards. People said she had grown weak, +fretting after Thorndyke, after her father and mother, lamenting their +hardness, regretting her own disobedience; but people are prone to +talk, and often say things for which there's not a shadow of +foundation. She died without having seen her friends--unreconciled; +and when Mr. Cray wrote to Sir Oswald a very proper letter, not +familiar, but giving the details of her death, no answer was accorded +him. Mrs. Cray, as Mary Oswald, had possessed a small income +independent of her father, and this on her death passed to her little +son. It was just one hundred and six pounds per year, and she made it +her dying request that he should use the surname of Oswald in addition +to that of Cray--should be known henceforth as Master Oswald Cray. + +And it was so; and when the boy first entered a noted public school +for gentlemen's sons, far away from Hallingham, and the boys saw him +sign his exercises and copies "O. Oswald Cray," they asked him what +the "O" was for. For his Christian name, he answered. Was not Oswald +his Christian name? they wanted to know. Yes, his Christian and his +surname both, he said--Oswald Oswald. It was his grandpapa's Christian +and surname, Sir Oswald Oswald. Oh! was _he_ his grandfather asked the +boys. Yes; but--Oswald added in his innate love of truth--he had never +been the better for him, Sir Oswald had never spoken to him in his +life; there was something unpleasant between him and his papa, he did +not know what. No; at that stage of the boy's age he was unconscious +what the breach was, or that his dead mother had made it. + +Poor Oswald Cray had not had a very happy childhood's life; he +scarcely knew what was meant by the words, home-ties, home-love. _He_ +had never enjoyed them. There was a second Mrs. Cray, and a second +family, and she did not like the boy Oswald, or care that he should be +at home. He was but four years old when he was despatched to a far-off +preparatory school, where he was to stay the holidays as well as the +half-years. Now and then, about once in two years or so, he would be +had home for a fortnight at Christmas, and Mr. Cray would make an +occasional journey to see him. + +It was at ten years old that he was removed to the public school, +where the boys asked him the meaning of the "O." Before that time +came, grief had penetrated to the family of Sir Oswald Oswald. His +only son and heir had died in battle in India; his daughter Frances, +who had never gone back to the old lord, had died at Thorndyke; and +Sir Oswald and his wife were childless. Neither survived the year, and +when Oswald was eleven years old, and getting to hold his own in the +school, the title had devolved on the next brother, Sir John. Sir John +was sixty when he came into it, and had no children. He had offended +the Oswald family in the same way that Mary Oswald had offended them, +by marrying a lady whose family was not as good as his own. + +That lady was the present widow, Lady Oswald, now lamenting over the +threatened innovation of the railway sheds. Sir John Oswald enjoyed +the title for four years only, and then it lapsed to a cousin, for Sir +John had no children. The cousin, Sir Philip, enjoyed it still, and +lived at Thorndyke, and his eldest son would succeed him. They were +proud also, those present Oswalds of Thorndyke, and never had spoken +to Oswald Cray in their lives. The prejudices of old Sir Oswald had +descended upon them, and Sir Philip and Lady Oswald would pass Oswald +Cray, if by chance they met him, with as stony a stare as had ever +greeted his poor mother. + +Perhaps the only one of the whole Oswald family upon whom the +prejudices had not descended was the widow of Sir John. Upon the death +of her husband, when she had to leave Thorndyke, she took on lease the +house at Hallingham, and had never removed from it. Her jointure was +not a large one; but Sir John had bequeathed to her certain moneys +absolutely, and these were at her own disposal. These moneys were also +being added to yearly, for she did not spend all her income; so that +it was supposed Lady Oswald would leave a pretty little sum behind +her, by which somebody would benefit. There was no lack of +"somebodies" to look out for it, for Lady Oswald had two nephews with +large families, both of whom wanted help badly. One of these nephews, +the Reverend Mr. Stephenson, was a poor curate, struggling to bring up +his seven children upon one hundred a year. Lady Oswald sent him a +little help now and then; but she was not fond of giving away her +money. + +The pride and prejudices of the family had not fallen upon her and she +noticed and welcomed Oswald Cray. He was fifteen when she settled at +Hallingham, and she had him to spend his first holidays with her +afterwards. She had continued to notice him ever since, to invite him +occasionally, and she was in her way fond of him; but it was not in +the nature of Lady Oswald to feel much fondness for any one. + +And yet, though not in her inmost heart cherishing the prejudices of +the Oswalds, she did in a degree adopt them. She could not be +independent and brave them off. Conscious that she was looked down +upon herself by the Oswalds, she could not feel sufficiently free to +take up her own standard of conduct, and fling those prejudices +utterly to the winds. Upon tolerably good terms with Thorndyke, paying +it occasional state visits, and receiving state visits from it in +return, she did not openly defy all Thorndyke's prejudices. Though she +acknowledged Oswald Cray as a relative, received him as an equal, +there it ended, and she never, by so much as a word or a nod, +recognised his father, Mr. Cray. She never had known him, and she did +not enter upon the acquaintance. But in this there was nothing +offensive, nothing that need have hurt the feelings of the Crays; Lady +Oswald and they were strangers, and she was not bound to make their +acquaintance, any more than she was that of other gentlepeople about +Hallingham, moving in a sphere somewhat inferior to herself. + +Mr. Cray had continued to reside at Hallingham Abbey, and to live at +it in a style that his income did not justify. However the Oswalds may +have despised him, he did not despise himself; neither did Hallingham. +Mr. Cray of the Abbey was of note in the town; Mr. Cray was courted +and looked up to; Mr. Cray went to dinner-parties, and gave them; Mr. +Cray's wife was fashionable and extravagant, and so were Mr. Cray's +daughters; and altogether Mr. Cray was a great man, and spent +thousands where he ought to have spent hundreds. + +He had four children, not counting Oswald--Marcus and three +daughters--and it cost something to bring them out in the world. +Marcus, changeable and vacillating by nature, fixed upon half a dozen +professions or occupations for himself, before he decided upon the one +he finally embraced--that of a doctor. Chance, more than anything +else, caused him to decide on this at last. Altogether what with home +extravagance and the cost of his children, Mr. Cray became an +embarrassed man; and when he died, about two years previous to the +opening of this story, a very slender support was left for his wife +and daughters. His will did not even mention Oswald. Two or three +hundred pounds were left to Marcus--the rest to Mrs. Cray for her +life, and to go to her daughters afterwards. + +Oswald had not expected any. Where a home gives no affection, it is +not very likely to give money. When Oswald had come of age he found +that his own income, of which his father was trustee, had no only been +spent upon his education, but the principal had been very considerably +drawn upon as well--in fact, it would take years to redeem it. "I was +obliged to do it, Oswald," his father said. "I could not limit your +educational expenses, and there was the heavy premium to pay in +Parliament Street. I'd willingly have paid all cost myself; but it has +not been in my power." + +Oswald was not ungenerous. He grasped his father's hand and warmly +thanked him, saying it was only right his own money should pay his +cost when there were so many at home to educate. Ah, it was not the +_money_ he regretted. Had every sixpence of it been spent--why, it was +spent--he was young and strong, with a good profession before him, and +brains and hands to work it, he could make his own way in the world, +and he should make it. No, it was not the money; but what Oswald had +been hurt at, was the manner in which they had estranged him from his +home; had kept him from the father's affection which he had yearned +for. He knew that the fault had been Mrs. Cray's; that his father held +him aloof only under her influence. He did not allow himself to blame +his father even in his own heart; but he could not help thinking that, +were he ever placed in a similar situation, he should openly love and +cherish his first-born son, in spite of all the second wives in the +world. Oswald had yet to learn by experience how utterly futile is +that boast which we are all apt to make--that we should act so +differently in other people's places. Never was there a truer aphorism +than the homely saying: "Nobody knows where the shoe pinches save +those who wear it." + +Oswald Cray had been born proud: it might be detected in every tone of +his decisive voice, in every turn of his well-set head, in every +lineament of his haughty features. He could not help it. It is well to +repeat this assertion, because pride is sometimes looked upon as a +failing demanding heavy reproach. There it was, and he could not shake +it out of him any more than he could shake out his other qualities or +feelings. It was discerned in him when a little child; it was seen +conspicuously in his schooldays; it reigned paramount in his early +manhood. "The boy has the proud spirit of his grandfather Sir Oswald," +quoth the gossips; and no doubt it was from that quarter that it had +come. Only in his later days, those years between twenty and thirty +when thought and experience were coming to him, did it grow less +observable, for he had the good sense to endeavour to keep it in due +subjection. + +But it was not a bad sort of pride, after all. It was not the foolish +pride of the Oswalds generally, who deemed everybody beneath them; it +was rather that pride of innate rectitude which keeps its owner from +doing a mean, a wrong, or a disgraceful action. It was the pride of +self-esteem, of self-reliance; that feeling which says: "I must not do +so and so, for I should disgrace myself--those careless-living men +around me may do these things, but I am superior to it" Other young +men might plunge into the world's follies; pride, if no better motive, +kept Oswald Cray from them. He could not for very shame have borne a +tainted conscience; he could not have shown a clear outside to the +world, open and fearless, knowing that his heart was foul within. + +He was not proud of his family descent from the Oswalds. Quite the +contrary. He found no cause to pride himself on either the Oswalds or +the Crays. So far as the Oswalds went, many a hundred times had he +wished they were no connections of his. All his life he had received +from them nothing but slights; and slights to a man of Oswald Cray's +temperament bring the deepest mortification. He knew now how they had +treated his mother; he felt to his very heart how they despised +himself. If he could have changed his dead grandfather into somebody +else, a little less foolish and a great deal less grand, he had been +better pleased. + +But this very isolation from his mother's family had tended to +foster his own pride--the mortification which it induced had fostered +it--just as the isolation from his own home, from his father and the +second family, had contributed to render him self-reliant. It is not +your home darling, bred up in fond dependence, sheltered from the +world's storms as a hothouse flower, who becomes the self-reliant man, +but he who is sent out early to rough it, who has nobody to care for +him, or to love him, in all the wide earth. + +Not a more self-reliant man lived than Oswald Cray. He was sure, under +God, of _himself_, of his good conduct; and I think it is about the +best surety that a man or woman can carry with them through life. In +moments of doubt, perplexity, difficulty, whatever might be its +nature, he turned to his own heart and took its counsel--and it never +failed him. It was with himself he deliberated; it was his own good +judgment, his right feeling, that he called to his aid. He had an +honest, upright nature, was strictly honourable; a proud man, if it is +the proper sort of pride, nearly always is so. His ambition was great, +but not extravagant; it did not soar him aloft in flights of fancy, +vain, generally speaking, as they are absurd. He was determined to +rise to the summit of his profession--that of a civil engineer--but he +entertained no foolish dreams beyond it. To attain to that, he would +use every diligence, every effort, consistent with uprightness and +honour; and dishonourable efforts Oswald Cray would have scorned to +use, would have shaken them from him as he shook a summer-day's dust +from his shoes. + +He was connected with a firm of high repute in Parliament Street: +Bracknell and Street. Oswald Cray was a partner, but his name did not +appear as yet: and, as you may readily imagine, the lion's share of +the profits did not fall to him. In fact, he had entered it very much +as his half-brother had entered the house of Dr. Davenal--to obtain a +footing. For more substantial recompense he was content to wait. +Bracknell and Street were engineers to the Hallingham line, and to +Oswald Cray had been entrusted its working and management. + +He had said to Lady Oswald, in answer to her reproach of his not +calling to see her more frequently, that his time when at Hallingham +was much occupied. True, so far: but the chief and real motive which +kept him from her house was a sort of sensitive feeling relating to +her money. It was not that he dreaded people's saying he was looking +after it: he would have scorned that kind of reproach: but he did +dread lest any degree of intimacy, any pushing of himself in her way, +should cause her to leave it to him. I am not sure that you will quite +understand this; understand him or his feeling. None but a man of the +nicest honour, who was entrenched, as it were, in his own pride, the +pride of rectitude, could have felt this delicacy. He did not want +Lady Oswald's money; he knew that he had no claim upon any of it, no +right to it, and he would not put himself in her way more than he +could help, even as a passing visitor. Gossiping Hallingham had said: +"My lady would be leaving her nest-egg to Mr. Oswald Cray." The gossip +had penetrated to Mr. Oswald Cray's ears, and his only notice of it +was a haughty gesture of contempt: but in all probability it tended to +increase his dislike to go to Lady Oswald's. During these business +visits at Hallingham, he sojourned at a respectable inn of the old +school, a little beyond the town and the Abbey Gardens, called the +"Apple Tree," and had recently become more intimate with the family of +Dr. Davenal. + +Driven forth all his life from his father's home, allowed to enter it +but at rare intervals, and then as a formally-invited guest, it cannot +be supposed that Oswald Cray entertained any strong affection for his +half-brother and sisters. Such a state of things would have been +unnatural, quite in opposition to ordinary probabilities. It would be +wrong to say that they disliked each other; but there was certainly no +love: civil indifference may best express the feeling. Marcus, the +eldest child of the second Mrs. Cray, was from three to four years +younger than Oswald. It had been better that Mrs. Cray had fostered an +affection between these boys, but she did just the reverse. She +resented the contempt cast on her husband by the Oswalds of Thorndyke; +she resented, most unreasonably, the fact that the little money of the +first Mrs. Cray should have descended at once to Oswald; she even +resented the child's having taken the distinguishing name: he was +Oswald Cray, her son, plain Cray. How worse than foolish this was of +her, how wrong, perhaps the woman might yet learn: but altogether it +did excite her against Oswald; and she had kept him aloof from her own +children, and encouraged those children to be jealous of him. When the +boys became men, they met often, and were cordial enough with each +other; but there was no feeling of brotherhood, there never could be +any. + +For a twelvemonth after Mr. Cray's death, Mrs. Cray remained at the +Abbey, and then she left it. It was too expensive a residence for her +now--its rent swallowing up half her income. She removed with her +daughters to a watering-place in Wales, where, as she fractiously +said, she hoped they should "get along." Marcus, who had qualified for +a surgeon, became assistant to Dr. Davenal, and that gentleman at +length gave him a small share in the profits. It was not a +regularly-constituted firm--"Davenal and Cray"--nothing of the sort. +Hallingham knew that he was admitted a partner so far as receiving a +share went; and they knew that that was all. + +He was liked in Hallingham, this young doctor, and Dr. Davenal had +done it in kindness, to give him a standing. As the time went on, he +would have no doubt a larger and larger share--some time succeed to +the whole. He was considered a suitable partner for the doctor; the +Crays of the Abbey had always been looked up to in the town; and young +Cray's skill as a medical man was in the ascendant. Lady Oswald was +getting to like him very much; she evinced a desire to patronise him, +to push forward his interests; and Dr. Davenal was really in hope that +she would adopt him as her attendant for everyday calls instead of +himself. Mr. Cray could spare the time for these useless visits better +than Dr. Davenal. He, Mr. Cray, resided in lodgings in the town, and +was growing in its favour daily in a professional point of view: not +that he had displayed any unusual skill, but simply that Hallingham +gave him credit for possessing it, because they liked _him_. + +There was a large family of the Davenals, as there was of the +Oswalds--speaking, in both cases, of the days gone by, and comprising +collateral branches. Years and years ago Surgeon Davenal's had been a +noted name in Hallingham; he had a large practice, and he had several +children. It is not necessary to speak of all the children. Richard +(the present Dr. Davenal) was the eldest son, and had succeeded to the +practice. The two other sons, Walter and John, had chosen to enter the +Church, and both, when ordained, had gone out to the West Indies; one +of them became chaplain to the Bishop of Barbadoes, the other obtained +a church in the island. Both had married there, and Caroline Davenal +was the only child of Walter, the elder of the two. + +Sara was twelve years old when her cousin Caroline arrived in England, +an orphan; father and mother were both dead. A poor clergyman in the +West Indies, dying young, was not likely to have amassed money, and +the little child, Caroline, had literally nothing. Her father wrote an +appealing letter to his brother Richard, on his deathbed, and Richard +Davenal was not one to reject it. + +"She shall be my child henceforth, and Sara's sister," said he, in the +warmth of his heart, when the letter and the child arrived at +Hallingham. And so she had been. + +But it was by no means so certain that Caroline Davenal would not some +time be rich. A very large sum of money was pending in her mother's +family, who were West Indians. It had become the subject of dispute, +of litigation, and was at length thrown into that formidable court in +England--Chancery. Should it be decided in one way, Caroline would +derive no benefit; if in another, she would come in for several +thousand pounds. The probabilities were in her favour--but Chancery, +as you all know, is a capricious court, and does not hurry itself to +inconvenience. + +Upon the death of Dr. Davenal's wife, his sister Bettina came to +reside with him, and to rule his children. He had but three--Richard, +Edward, and Sara. There had been others between Edward and Sara, but +they died young. Fine lads, those of Dr. Davenal, although they took +to plaguing stern Miss Bettina, and aggravatingly called her "Aunt +Bett." Fine young men, too, they grew up--well reared, liberally +educated. Richard embraced his father's profession; for Edward a +commission in the army was purchased, in accordance with his strong +wish, and he was now Captain Davenal. + +And Richard Davenal, the eldest son, where was he? Ah! it was a +grievous story to look back upon. It had clouded the life of Dr. +Davenal, and would cloud it to the end. Richard was dead, and Dr. +Davenal blamed himself as the remote cause. + +When Richard had completed his studies, and passed the College of +Surgeons, he returned to Hallingham, and joined his father in +practice, as it had been intended that he should. He grew greatly in +favour: he promised to be as clever as his father: and Hallingham +courted him. He was a man of attractive presence, of genial manners, +and he mixed a great deal of pleasure with his life of work. Dr. +Davenal spoke to him seriously and kindly. He said that too much +pleasure did not agree long with work, could not agree with it, and he +begged him to be more steady. Richard laughed, and said he would. A +short while, and startling news reached the ears of Dr. Davenal--that +Richard was thinking of marrying one who was undesirable. Richard, his +fine boy, of whom he was so fond and proud, marry _her!_ It was not +against the young lady herself that so much could be urged, but +against her connections. They were most objectionable. Dr. Davenal +pointed out to Richard that to wed this girl would be as a blight upon +his prospects, a blow to his reputation. Richard could not be brought +to see it. Though not equal to themselves in position, she was +respectable, he said; and her connections had nothing to do with +it--he did not marry them, he married her. The feud continued: not an +open feud, you understand, but an undercurrent of opposition, of +coolness. Richard would not give up his project, and Dr. Davenal +would not view it with anything but aversion. As to giving his +consent, that Dr. Davenal never would; and Richard, hitherto dutiful, +was not one to go the length of marrying in defiance. + +It was at this time, or a little before it, that the dispute had +arisen in Barbadoes touching the money already spoken of. Particulars +of it were written to Dr. Davenal by his brother John, explaining also +how Caroline's interests were involved. He, the Reverend John Davenal, +said in the same letter that he was anxious to send his two little +boys to Europe for their education, and was waiting to find them a fit +escort; he did not care to trust them alone in the ship. As Dr. +Davenal read this letter, a sudden thought darted into his mind like a +flash of lightning. What if he sent out Richard? Richard could sift +the details about this fortune, could, if expedient, urge Caroline's +interests; he could bring back the two little boys, and--and--the +chief thought of all lay behind--it might break off the engagement +with the young girl here, Fanny Parrack! Quite a glow of satisfaction +came over Dr. Davenal's face at the thought. + +He sought a conference with his son. He told him that he wished him to +take a voyage to Barbadoes; that Caroline's interests required +somebody to go out; that the two little boys had no friend to bring +them over. Richard hesitated. To most young men a visit to the West +Indies would be a welcome distraction; but Richard Davenal seemed +strangely to hold back from it--to shrink from its very mention. Did +some mysterious warning of what it would bring forth for him dart +unconsciously across his spirit? Or did he fear that it might in some +way lead to his losing the young lady upon whom he had set his heart? +It cannot be known. Certain it was, remembered, oh how remembered +afterwards, that an unaccountable repugnance on Richard's part did +evince itself, and it was only to the persistent urgent persuasion of +Dr. Davenal that he at length yielded. He yielded, as it were, under +protest, and he said he did, sacrificing his own strong wishes against +it to his father's. + +He set sail, and he wrote on his arrival at Barbadoes, after a fine +passage; and the next letter they received, a fortnight afterwards, +was not from him, but from his uncle, the clergyman. Richard had died +of yellow fever. + +It seemed to turn the current of Dr. Davenal's life. He blamed himself +as the cause: but for his scheming--and in that moment of exaggerated +feeling, of intense grief, he called it scheming--Richard, his best +beloved son, would be still by his side to bless him. He had never +been a scheming man, but an open and straightforward one; and never, +so long as he lived, would he scheme again. In his unhappiness, he +began to reproach himself for having needlessly opposed Richard's +marriage--to believe that he might have done worse than in marrying +Fanny Parrack. He sent for her, and he found her a pretty, modest, +gentle girl, and his repentance heaped itself upon him fourfold. He +informed her very kindly and considerately of the unhappy fact of +Richard's death, and he told her that should any memento be found left +for her amidst Richard's effects when they arrived--any letter, no +matter what--it should be given to her. + +But that death had changed Dr. Davenal into an old man; in the two +years which had elapsed since, he had aged ten, both in looks and +constitution. No wonder that a spasm of pain came over his face when +Mr. Cray asked him whether he should forbid Caroline to him. You can +understand his answer now: "So long as I live I shall never 'forbid' a +marriage to any over whom I hold control:" and you can understand the +anguish of the tone in which it was spoken. + +And that ends the chapter of retrospect. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +NEAL'S CURIOSITY. + + +They sat around the dinner-table; Dr. Davenal, Miss Bettina, Sara, and +Caroline. It was an unusually silent table. Dr. Davenal could not +digest the demand of Mr. Cray for Caroline; Caroline was conscious and +timid; Sara scented something not altogether comfortable in the air, +and did not raise her eyes from her plate; and it was one of the +unusually deaf days of Miss Bettina. + +Neal moved about noiselessly. Being a treasure of a servant, of course +he always did move noiselessly. Quite an artistic performance was +Neal's waiting; in his own person he did the waiting of three; and so +tranquilly assiduous was his mode of accomplishing it so perfect +indeed were Neal's ways in the household, that Miss Bettina rarely let +a day pass without sounding his praise. + +Strange to say, the doctor did not like him. Why it was, or how it +was, he could not tell, but he had never taken heartily to Neal. So +strong was the feeling, that it may almost be said he hated Neal; and +yet the man fulfilled all his duties so well that there was no fault +to be found with him, no excuse invented for discharging him. The +doctor's last indoor man had not been anything like so efficient a +servant as Neal, was not half so fine a gentleman, had ten faults +where Neal did not appear to have one. But the doctor had liked _him_, +good rough honest old Giles, had kept him for many years, and only +parted with him when he got too old to work. Then Neal presented +himself. Neal had once lived with Lady Oswald; he had been groom of +the chambers at Thorndyke in Sir John's time, and Lady Oswald kept him +for a twelvemonth after Sir John's death, and nearly cried when she +parted with him; but Neal refused point-blank to go out with the +carriage, and Lady Oswald did not wish to keep on three men-servants. +Neal found a place in London, and they lost sight of him for some +years; but he made his appearance at Lady Oswald's again one +day--having come down by the new railroad to see what change it had +made in the old place, and to pay his respects to my lady. My lady was +gratified by the attention, and inquired what he was doing. He had +left his situation, he answered, and he had some thoughts of trying +for one in the country; my lady was aware, no doubt, how close and +smoky London was, and he found that it had told upon his health; if he +could hear of a quiet place in the country he believed he might be +induced to take it, however disadvantageous it might be to him in a +pecuniary point of view. Did my lady happen to know of one? My lady +did happen to know of one: Dr. Davenal's, who was then parting with +old Giles. She thought it would be the very place for Neal; Neal the +very man for the place; and in the propensity for managing other +people's business, which was as strong upon Lady Oswald as it is upon +many more of us, she ordered her carriage and drove to Dr. Davenal's, +and never left him until he had promised Neal the situation. + +In good truth, Dr. Davenal deemed that Neal would suit him very well, +provided he could bring his notions down to the place; and that, as +Lady Oswald said, Neal intended to do. But to be groom of the chambers +to a nobleman who kept his score or so of servants (for that was +understood in the town to have been Neal's situation), and to be sole +indoor manservant to a doctor, keeping three maids only besides, and +the coachman in the stables, would be a wide gulf of difference. Neal, +however, accepted the place, and Dr. Davenal took him on the +recommendation of Lady Oswald, without referring to the nobleman in +town. + +But even in the very preliminary interview when the engagement was +made, Dr. Davenal felt a dislike steal over him for the man. Instinct +would have prompted him to say, "You will not suit me;" reason +overpowered it, and whispered, "He will prove an excellent servant;" +and Dr. Davenal engaged him. That was just before Richard went out to +Barbadoes, and ever since then the doctor had been saying to himself +how full of prejudice was his dislike, considering the excellent +servant that Neal proved to be. But he could not overget the +prejudice. + +Neal cleared the table when the dinner was over, and placed the +dessert upon it. Dr. Davenal did not care for dessert; deemed it waste +of time to sit at it; waste of eating to partake of it: but Miss +Bettina, who favoured most of the customs and fashions of her +girlhood, would as soon have thought of dispensing with her dinner. +Dr. Davenal generally withdrew with the cloth; sometimes, if not busy, +he stayed a few minutes to chat with his daughter and Caroline; but +calls on his time and services were made after dinner as well as +before it. + +On this day he did not leave his place. He sat at the foot of the +large table, Miss Davenal opposite him at its head, the young ladies +between them, one on each side. Interrupted by Lady Oswald in the +afternoon, he had not yet spoken to Caroline; and that he was +preparing to do now. + +He drew his chair near to her, and began in a low tone. Sara rose +soon, and quitted the room; Miss Davenal was deaf; they were, so to +say, alone. + +"My dear, Mr. Cray is not the man I would have preferred to choose for +you. Are you aware how very small is the income he derives from his +partnership with me?" + +Caroline caught up the glistening damask dessert napkin, and began +pulling out the threads of its fringe. "His prospects are very fair, +Uncle Richard." + +"Fair enough, insomuch as that he may enjoy the whole of this practice +in time. But that time may be long in coming, Caroline; twenty years +hence, for all we know. I shall be but seventy then, and my father at +seventy was as good a man as I am now." + +Her fingers pulled nervously at the fringe, and she did not raise her +eyes. "I hope you will live much longer than that, Uncle Richard." + +"So long as I live, Caroline, and retain my health and strength, so +long shall I pursue my practice and take its largest share of profits. +Mr. Cray understood that perfectly when I admitted him to a small +share as a partner. I did it for his sake, to give him a standing. I +had no intention of taking a partner: I wished only for an assistant; +but out of regard to his prospects, to give him a footing, I say, I +let him have a trifling share, suffered it to be known in Hallingham +that he was made a partner of by Dr. Davenal. He has but two hundred +a-year from me." + +"It does not cost much to live," said Caroline. "We need not keep many +servants." + +Dr. Davenal paused, feeling that she was hopelessly inexperienced. "My +dear, what do you suppose it costs us to live as we do?--here, in this +house?" + +"Ever so much," was Caroline's lucid answer. + +"It costs me something like twelve hundred a-year, Caroline, and I +have no house-rent to pay." + +She did not answer. Miss Davenal's sharp eyes caught sight of +Caroline's damaging fingers, and she called out to know what she was +doing with the dessert napkin. Caroline laid it on the table beside +her plate. + +"I cannot afford to increase Mr. Cray's salary very much," continued +Dr. Davenal. "To reduce my own style of living I do not feel inclined, +and Edward draws largely upon me. Extravagant chaps are those young +officers!" added the doctor, falling into abstraction. "There's not +one of them, as I believe, Makes his pay suffice." + +He paused. Caroline took up a biscuit and began crumbling it on her +plate. + +"The very utmost that I could afford to give him would be four hundred +per annum," resumed Dr. Davenal "and I believe that I shall +inconvenience myself to do this. But that's not it. There"---- + +"Oh, Uncle Richard, it is ample. Four hundred a-year! We could not +spend it." + +He shook his head at the impulsive interruption; at its unconscious +ignorance. "Caroline, I was going to say that the mere income is not +all the question. If you marry Mr. Cray, he can make no settlement +upon you; more than that, he has no home, no furniture. I think he has +been precipitate; inconsiderately so, few men would ask a young lady +to be their wife until they had a house to take her to; or money in +hand to procure one." + +Caroline's eyes filled with tears. She had hard work to keep them from +dropping. + +"Carine," he said caressingly, "is it quite _irrevocable_, this +attachment?" + +The tears went down on the crumbled biscuit. She murmured some words +which the doctor but imperfectly caught; only just sufficiently so to +gather that it _was_ irrevocable--or that at any rate the young lady +thought so. He sighed. + +"Listen to me, child. I should never attempt to oppose your +inclinations; I should not think of forbidding any marriage that you +had set your heart upon. If you have fixed on Mr. Cray, or he on +you--it comes to the same--I will not set my will against it. But one +thing I must urge upon you both--to wait." + +"Do you dislike Mr. Cray, Uncle Richard?" + +"Dislike him! no, child. Have I not made him my partner? I like him +personally very much. I don't know whether he has much stability," +continued the doctor, in a musing tone, as though he were debating the +question with himself. "But let that pass. My objection to him for +you, Caroline, is chiefly on a pecuniary score." + +"I am sure we shall have enough," she answered, in a lower tone. + +"If I give my consent, Carry, I shall give it under protest; and make +a bargain with you at the same time." + +Caroline lifted her eyes. His voice had turned to a jesting one. + +"What protest?---what bargain?" she asked. + +"That I give the consent in opposition to my better judgment. The +bargain is, that when you find you have married imprudently and cannot +make both ends meet, you don't turn round and blame me." + +She bent her eyes with a smile and shook her head in answer, and began +twisting the chain that lay upon her fair neck, the bracelets on her +pretty arms. She wore the same rich dress that she had worn in the +afternoon, as did Sara; but the high bodies had been exchanged for low +ones, the custom for dinner at Dr. Davenal's. + +"I will not withhold my consent. But," he added, his tone changing to +the utmost seriousness, "I shall recommend you both to wait. To wait +at least a year or two. You are very young, only twenty." + +"I am twenty-one, Uncle Richard," she cried out. "It is Sara who is +only twenty." + +He smiled at the eagerness. One year seems so much to the young. + +"Twenty-one, then: since last week, I believe. And Mark is three or +four years older. You can well afford to wait. A year or two's time +may make a wonderful difference in the position of affairs. Your share +of that disputed property may have come to you, rendering a settlement +upon you feasible; and Mark, if he chooses to be saving, may have got +chairs and tables together. Perhaps I may increase his share at once +to help him do it." + +"Would you be so kind as enlighten me as to the topic of your +conversation with Caroline, Dr. Davenal?" + +The interruption come from Miss Bettina. Deaf as she was, it was +impossible for her not to perceive that some subject of unusual moment +was being discussed, and nothing annoyed her more than to fancy she +was purposely kept in the dark. For the last five minutes she had sat +ominously upright in her chair. Very upright she always did sit, at +all times and seasons; but in moments of displeasure this stiff +uprightness was unpleasantly perceptible. Dr. Davenal rose from his +seat and walked towards her, bending his face a little. He had a +dislike to talk to her on her very deaf days: it made him hoarse for +hours afterwards. + +"Caroline wants to be married, Bettina?" + +Miss Bettina did catch the right words this time, but she doubted it. +She had not yet learnt to look upon Caroline as aught but a child. +Could the world have gone round in accordance with the ideas of Miss +Bettina, nobody with any regard to propriety would have married in it +until the age of thirty was past. Her cold grey eyes and her mouth +gradually opened as she looked from her brother to her niece, from her +niece to her brother. + +"Wants to be what, did you say?" + +"To be married, Aunt Bett," cried out the doctor. "It's the fashion, +it seems, with the young folks nowadays! You were not in so great a +hurry when you were young?" + +The doctor spoke in no covert spirit of joking--as a stranger might +have supposed, Miss Davenal being Miss Davenal still. Bettina Davenal +had had her romance in life. In her young days, when she was not much +older than Caroline, a poor curate had sought to make her his wife. +She was greatly attached to him, but he was very, very poor, and +prudence said, "Wait until better times shall come for him." Miss +Bettina's father and mother were alive then; the latter a great +invalid, and that also weighed with her, for in her duty and affection +she did not like to leave her home. Ay, cold and unsympathising as she +appeared to be now, Bettina Davenal had once been a warm, loving girl, +an affectionate daughter. And so, by her own fiat, she waited and +waited, and in her thirtieth year that poor curate, never promoted to +be a richer one, had died--had died of bad air, and hard work, and +poor nourishment. His duties were cast in the midst of one of our +worst metropolitan localities; and they were heavy, and his stipend +was small. From that time Bettina Davenal's disposition had changed; +she grew cold, formal, hard: repentance, it was suspected, was ever +upon her, that she had not risked the prudence and saved his life. Her +own fortune added to what he earned, would at least have kept him from +the ills of poverty. + +"Who wants to marry her?" questioned Miss Davenal, when she could take +her condemning eyes away from Caroline. + +"Mark Cray." + +The words seemed to mollify Miss Davenal in a slight degree, and her +head relaxed a very little from its uprightness. "She might do worse, +Richard. He is a good man, and I dare say he is making money. Those +civil engineers get on well." + +"I said _Mark_ Cray, Aunt Bett," repeated the doctor. + +"Mark! _He_ won't do. He is only a boy. He has got neither house nor +money." + +"Just what I say," said the doctor. "I tell her they must wait." + +"Mad! to be sure they must be mad, both of them," complaisantly +acquiesced Miss Davenal. + +"Wait, I said, Bettina," roared the doctor. + +"You need not rave at me, Richard. I am not as deaf as a post. Who +says anything about 'fate?' Fate, indeed! don't talk of fate to me. +Where's your common-sense gone?" + +"Wait, I said, Aunt Bett! Wa-a-a-it! I tell them they must wait." + +"No," said Aunt Bett. "Better break it off." + +"I don't think they will," returned the doctor. + +Miss Bettina turned her eyes on Caroline. That young lady, left to +herself, had pretty nearly done for the damask napkin. She dreaded but +one person in the world, and that was stern Aunt Bettina. Miss Bettina +rose in her slow stately fashion, and turned Caroline's drooping face +towards her. + +"What in the world has put it into your head to think of Mark Cray?" + +"I didn't think of him before he thought of me," was poor Caroline's +excuse, which, as a matter of course, Miss Davenal did not catch. + +"Has it ever occurred to you to reflect, Caroline, how very serious a +step is that of settlement in life?" + +"We shall get along, Aunt Bettina." + +"I'll not get along," exclaimed Miss Bettina, her face darkening. "I +attempt to say a little word to you for your good, for your own +interest, and you tell me 'to get along!' How dare you, Caroline +Davenal?" + +"Oh, Aunt Bettina! I said we should get along." + +"I don't know that you would get along if you married Mark Cray. I +don't like Mark Cray. I did not think"---- + +"Why don't you like him, aunt?" + +"I don't know," replied Miss Bettina. "He is too light and careless. I +did not think it a wise step of your uncle's to take him into +partnership; but it was not my province to interfere. The Crays +brought it to nothing, you know. Lived like princes for a few years, +and when affairs came to be looked into on Mr. Cray's death, the money +was gone." + +"That was not Mark's fault," returned Caroline, indignantly. "It ought +to be no reason for your disliking _him_, Aunt Bettina." + +"It gives one prejudices, you see. He may be bringing it to the same +in his own case before his life's over." + +"You might as well say the same of Oswald," resentfully spoke +Caroline. + +"No; Oswald's different. He is worth a thousand of Mark. Don't think +of Mark, Caroline. You might do so much better: better in all ways." + +"I don't care to do better," was the rebellious answer. And then, +half-frightened at it, repenting of its insolence, poor Caroline burst +into tears. She felt very indignant at the disparagement of Mark. +Fortunately for her, Miss Davenal mistook the words. + +"We don't care that you should do better! Of course we care. What are +you thinking of, child? Your uncle studies your interests as much as +he would study Sara's." + +"More!" impulsively interrupted the doctor, who was pacing the room, +his hands under his coat-tails. "I might feel less scrupulous in +opposing Sara's inclination." + +"You hear, Caroline! The doctor opposes this inclination of yours!" + +Caroline cast a look to him, a sort of helpless appeal: not only that +he would _not_ oppose it, but that he would set right Miss Davenal. + +"I don't oppose it, Bettina: I don't go so far as that. I recommend +them to wait. In a year or two"---- + +A loud knock at the hall-door startled Dr. Davenal. Knocks there were +pretty frequent--loud ones too; but this was loud and long as a peal +of thunder. And it startled somebody besides the doctor. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +AN INTERRUPTION. + + +That somebody was Neal. Neal's mind was by far too composed a +one to be ruffled by any sort of shock, and Neal's nerves were in +first-rate order. It happened, however, that Neal was rather +unpleasantly near to the front door at that moment, and the sudden +sound, so sharp and long, did make him start. + +When Neal removed the dinner things, he placed his plate and glasses +in the pantry, and carried the tray with the other articles down to +the kitchen. In going upstairs again he was called to by Watton, the +upper woman-servant of the family, who was as old as Neal himself, and +had lived with them for some years. She was in the apartment opening +from the kitchen, a boarded room with a piece of square carpet in the +middle. It was called the housekeeper's room, and was used as a +sitting-room by the servants when their kitchen work was over for the +day. The servants' entrance to the house was on this lower floor; +steps ascending from it to the outer door in the back garden. + +"Did you call me?" asked Neal, looking in. + +Watton had her hands busy papering some jars of jam. She turned round +at the question, displaying a sallow face with quick dark eyes, and +pointed with her elbow to a note lying on the table before her. + +"A note for Miss Sara, Neal. It came five minutes ago." + +"Jessy might have brought it up," remarked Neal. "Letters should never +be delayed below." + +"Jessy has stepped out," explained Watton. "And I want to get to an +end with this jam; Miss Bettina expected it was done and put away this +morning." + +Neal carried the note upstairs to his pantry, and there examined it. +But beyond the fact that it was superscribed "Miss Sara Davenal," Neal +could gather no information to gratify his curiosity. The handwriting +was not familiar to him; the envelope displayed neither crest nor +coat-of-arms. He held it up, but not the most scrutinising eye could +detect anything through it; he gingerly tried the fastening of the +envelope, but it would not come apart without violence. As he was thus +engaged he heard the dining-room door open, and he peeped out of his +pantry. + +It was Miss Sara. She was going upstairs to the drawing-room. Neal +heard her enter it; and after the lapse of a minute or two, he +followed her, bearing the note on a silver waiter. She had shut +herself in. Somehow that conference in the dining-room was making her +nervous. + +"Who brought it, Neal?" she carelessly asked, taking the note from the +waiter. + +"I am unable to say, miss. It came when I was waiting at dinner." + +Neal retired, closed the drawing-room door, and descended to his +pantry. There he began making preparations for washing his dinner +glasses, rather noisy ones for Neal. He put some water into a wooden +bowl, rinsed the glasses in it, and turned them down to dry. Having +advanced thus far, it probably struck Neal that a trifling interlude +of recreation might be acceptable. + +He stole cautiously along as far as the dining-room door, and there +came to a halt, bending down his head and ear. Neal could calculate +his chances as well as any living spy. He could not be disturbed +unawares by Miss Sara from the drawing-room or the servants from the +kitchen; and his sense of hearing was so acute, partly by nature, +partly by exercise, that no one could approach to open the dining-room +door from the inside without his getting ample warning. Neal had not +played his favourite part for long years to be discovered at last. + +There he had remained, listening to anything in the dining-room there +might be to hear, until aroused by that strange knock--so loud, long, +and near, that it startled even him. A noiseless glide back to his +pantry, a slight clatter there with spoons and forks, and Neal came +forth to answer the summons, with a far fleeter foot than Neal in +general allowed his stately self to put forth, for the knocker had +begun again and was knocking perpetually. + +"Is all the town dying!" muttered Neal. + +He pulled open the door, and there burst in two fine lads, sending +their ringing shout of laughter through the house, and nearly +upsetting the man in their wild haste, as they sprang past him into +the dining-room, and on Dr. Davenal. Sara, alarmed at the unusual +noise, came running down. + +"You rogues!" exclaimed the doctor. "What brings you here today?" + +They were too excited to explain very lucidly. One day extra in a +schoolboy's holidays, especially at the commencement, will turn young +heads crazy. The usher who was to take charge of such of the boys +whose homes lay this way, had received news that morning of the +illness of a relative, and had to leave a day sooner: so they left +also. + +"Nothing loth, I'll answer for it," cried Dr. Davenal; and the boys +laughed. + +He placed them both before him, and looked first at one, then at the +other, regarding what alteration six months had made. There was a +general likeness between them, as regarded eyes, hair, and complexion, +but none in features. Richard, the eldest, generally called Dick, was +a good-tempered, saucy-looking boy, with a turned-up nose; Leopold had +more delicate features, and seemed less strong. + +"You have both grown," said the doctor; "but Leo's thin. How do your +studies get on, Dick?" + +"Oh--middling," acknowledged Dick, a remarkably candid lad. "Uncle +Richard, I'm the best cricketer in the whole school. There's not one +of the fellows can come up to me." + +"The best what, Richard?" said Miss Bettina, bending her ear to the +lad. + +"Cricketer, Aunt Bett," repeated Richard. + +"Good boy! good boy!" said Miss Bettina approvingly. "Resolve to be +the best scholar always, and you _will_ be the best. You shall have a +pot of fresh jam for tea, Dick." + +Dick smothered his laughter. "I am not a good scholar at all, Aunt +Bett. Leo is: but he's a muff at cricket." + +"Not a good scholar!" repeated Miss Bettina, catching those words +correctly. "Did you not tell me you were the best scholar?" + +"No. I said I was the best cricketer," responded Dick. + +"Oh," said Miss Bettina, her face resuming its severity. "_That_ will +do you no good, Richard." + +"Aren't you deafer than before, Aunt Bett?" + +"Am I what?" asked Miss Bettina. "_Darker!_ I never was dark yet. Not +one of all the Davenal family had a skin as fair as mine. What put +that fancy into your head, Master Richard?" + +"I said deafer, Aunt Bett," repeated Richard. "I am sure you are +just as deaf again as you were at Christmas! Uncle Richard, we had a +boat-race yesterday. I was second oar." + +"I don't like those boat-races," hastily interrupted Caroline. + +"Girls never do," said Mr. Richard, loftily. "As if they'd like to +blister their hands with the oars! Look at mine." + +He extended his right hand, palm upwards, triumphant in blisters. Dr. +Davenal spoke. + +"I don't like boat-racing for you boys, either, Dick." + +"Oh, it was prime, Uncle Richard! One of the boats tipped over, and +the fellows got a ducking." + +"That's just it," said Dr. Davenal. "Boats 'tip' over when you +inexperienced young gentlemen least expect it. It has led to loss of +life sometimes, Dick." + +"Any muff can scramble out of the water, Uncle Richard. Some of us +fellows can swim like an otter." + +"And some can't swim at all, I suppose. What did Dr. Keen say when he +heard of the boatful going over?" + +Richard Davenal raised his honest, wide-open eyes to his uncle, some +surprise in their depths. "It didn't get to Keen's ears, Uncle +Richard! He knew nothing of the boat-race; we had it out of bounds. As +if Keen wouldn't have stopped it for us, if he had known. He thought +we were off to the cricket-field." + +"Well, you must be a nice lot of boys!" cried Dr. Davenal, quaintly. +"Does he give a prize for honour? You'd get it, Dick, if he did." + +Dick laughed. "It's the same at all schools, Uncle Richard. If we let +the masters into the secret of all our fun, mighty little of it should +we get." + +"I think they ought to be let into the fun that consists in going on +the water. There's danger in that." + +"Not a bit of it, Uncle Richard. It was the jolliest splash! The chief +trouble was getting the dry things to put on. They had been laid up in +the boxes ready to come home with us, and we had to put out no end of +stratagem to get at them." + +"A jolly splash, was it! Were you one of the immersed ones, Dick?" + +"Not I," returned Dick, throwing back his head. "As if we second-desk +fellows couldn't manage a boat better than that! Leo was." + +"How many of you were drowned, Leo?" + +Leo opened his eyes as wide as Dick had previously done. "_Drowned_, +Uncle Richard! Not one. We scrambled out as easy as fun. There's no +fear of our getting drowned." + +"No fear at all, as it seems to me," returned the doctor. "But there's +danger of it, Leo." + +Leo made no reply. Perhaps he scarcely defined the distinction of the +words. Dr. Davenal remained silent for a minute, lost in thought; then +he sat down, and held the two lads in front of him. + +"Did either of you ever observe a white house, lying back on a hill, +just as you pass the next station to this--Hildon?" + +"I know it," cried out Richard. "It is old Low's." + +"Old Low's, if you choose to call him so, but he is not as old as I +am, Master Dick. Some people in that neighbourhood called him Squire +Low. He is Lady Oswald's landlord. A few years ago, boys, I was sent +for to his house; that very house upon the hill. Mr. Low's mother was +living with him then, and I found she was taken ill. I went for +several days in succession: sometimes I saw Mr. Low's sons, three nice +lads, but daring as you two are, and about your present age. One +afternoon,--listen, both of you,--I had no sooner got home from Mr. +Low's, than I was surprised to see one of his men riding up here at a +fierce rate. The railway was not opened then. I feared old Mrs. Low +might be worse, and I hastened out to the man myself. He had come +galloping all the way, and he asked me to gallop back as quickly"---- + +"Old Mrs. Low was dead!" cried quick Dick. + +"No, sir, she was not dead. She was no worse than when I left her. Mr. +Low's three sons had done just what you tell me you did yesterday. +They went upon the river at Hildon in a rowing-boat, and the boat +upset--tipped over, as you call it; and the poor boys had not found it +so easy to scramble out as you, Leo, and your comrades did. One of +them was out, the man said; he thought that the other two were not. So +I mounted my own horse and hastened over." + +"But what did they want with you, Uncle Richard? Were there no doctors +near?" + +"Yes. When I got there a doctor was over the lad: but Mr. Low had +confidence in me, and in his distress he sent for me. It was the +youngest who was saved--James." + +"What! James Low, who goes about in that hand-chair." + +"The very same, Dick. From that hour he has never had the proper use +of his limbs. A species of rheumatic affection--we call it so for want +of a better name--is upon him perpetually. When the illness and fever +that supervened upon the accident were over, and which lasted some +weeks, we found his strength did not return to him, and he has +remained a confirmed invalid. And that was the result of one of those +tips over which you deem so harmless." + +"Will he never get well?" asked Leo. + +"Never, I fear." + +"And the two other boys, Uncle Richard? Did they scramble out at +last?" + +"No, Leo. They were drowned." + +Leo remained silent; Dick also. Dr. Davenal resumed. + +"Yes, they were drowned. I stood in the room where the coffins rested, +side by side, the day before the funeral, Mr. Low with me. He told how +generally obedient his poor boys were, save in that one particular, +the going upon the water. He had had some contentions with them upon +the point; he had a great dislike to the water for them--a dread of +their venturing on it, for the river at Hildon is dangerous, and the +boys were inexperienced. But they were daring-spirited boys who could +see no danger in it, and--listen, Dick!--did not believe there was +any. And they thought they'd just risk it for once, and they did so; +and this was the result. I shall never forget their father's sobs as +he told me this over the poor cold faces in the coffins." + +The young Davenals had grown sober. + +"My lads, I have told you this little incident--but I think you must +have heard somewhat of it before, for it is known to all Hallingham +just as well as it is to me--to prove to you that there _is_ danger +connected with the water, more particularly for inexperienced boys. +Where does the school get the boats?" + +"We hire them," answered Dick. "There's a boat association in the +place; poor men who keep boats, and hire them out to anybody who'll +pay." + +"They should be forbidden to hire them to schoolboys of your age. I +think I shall drop a hint to Dr. Keen." Dick Davenal grew frightened. +"For goodness sake don't do that, Uncle Richard! If the school knew it +got to Keen through you, they'd send me and Leo to Coventry." + +"I'll take care you don't get sent to Coventry through me, Dick. But I +cannot let you run the liability of this danger." + +"I don't think I'll go on the water again at school, Uncle Richard," +said Leo, who had sat down, and was nursing his leg thoughtfully. + +"I don't much think you will," said the doctor. + +Leo continued to nurse his leg. Dick, who had little thought about +him, had thrown his arms around Sara's waist, and was whispering to +her. Both the lads loved Sara. When they had arrived little strangers +from the West Indies, new to the doctor's house and its inmates, new +to everything else, they had taken wonderfully to Sara, and she to +them. You do not need to be told that they were the lads whom poor +Richard Davenal was to have escorted over; and when they came they +brought his effects with them. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +A TACIT BARGAIN. + +Meanwhile Mr. Oswald Cray had dined at his rustic inn, the "Apple +Tree," and was on his way to pay an evening visit at Dr. Davenal's. In +passing along New Street he encountered his half-brother, turning +hastily out of his lodgings. + +"Were you coming in, Oswald?" asked Marcus, as they shook hands. "I +heard you were down." + +"Not now," replied Oswald. "I am going on to Dr. Davenal's, and I go +up again by the night train. My visit here today was to Lady Oswald. +We are going to take a strip of her grounds for sheds, and she does +not like it." + +"Not like it!" echoed Mark. "It's worse than that. You should have +seen the way she was in this afternoon. It won't hurt the grounds." + +"Not at all. But she cannot be brought to see that it will not. In +point of fact, the sound of it is worse than the reality will be. It +does sound ill, I confess,--railway-sheds upon one's grounds! I was in +hopes of being the first to break the news to her: so much lies in the +telling of a thing; in the impression first imparted." + +"She said this afternoon that it all lay with you. That you could +spare her grounds if you would." + +"I wish it did lie with me: I would do my best to find another spot +and spare them. The company have fixed upon the site, Low has given +his concurrence, and there's no more to be said or done. I am very +sorry, but it has been no doing of mine. Will you go with me to the +doctor's, Mark?" + +Marcus hesitated, and then said he had rather not call that evening. + +"Why?" asked Oswald. + +"Well--the fact is,--I don't see why I may not tell you,--I have been +asking the doctor this afternoon for Caroline. He did not give me a +positive answer, one way or the other; and I don't think it will look +well to press a visit upon them just now." + +Oswald Cray's was not a demonstrative countenance: a self-controlled +man's rarely is: but certainly it exhibited marked surprise now, and +he gazed at his brother inquiringly. + +"You are surely not thinking of marrying?" + +"Yes, I am. Why should I not think of it?" + +"But what have you to marry upon? What means?" + +"Oh--I must get Dr. Davenal to increase my share. By a word he dropped +this afternoon when we were talking of it, I fancy he would do it: +would increase it to four hundred a-year. We might manage upon that." + +Oswald Cray made no immediate reply. He, the self-reliant man, would +have felt both pain and shame at the very thought of marrying upon the +help of others. + +"You are thinking it's not enough, Oswald?" + +"It might be enough for prudent people. But I don't think it would be +found enough by you and Caroline Davenal. Mark, I fancy--I shall not +offend you?--fancy you are not of a prudent turn." + +"I don't know that I am. But any man can be prudent when there's a +necessity that he should be." + +"It has not always proved so." + +"I see you think me a spendthrift," said Mark good-humouredly. + +"Not exactly that. I think you could not live upon as small an income +as some can. Dr. Davenal gives you, I believe, two hundred a-year, and +you have been with him six months: my opinion is, Mark, that at the +twelvemonth's end you will find the two hundred has nothing like kept +you. You will be looking about for another hundred to pay debts." + +"Are you so particularly saving yourself?" retorted Mark. + +"That is not the question, Mark; I am not going to be married," +answered Oswald, with a smile. "But I do save." + +"If the doctor will give me four hundred a-year to begin with, there's +no need to wait." + +"You have no furniture." + +"That's easily ordered," said Mark. + +"Very easily indeed," laughed Oswald. "But there'll be the paying for +it." + +"It won't take so much. We shall not set up in a grand way. We can pay +by instalments." + +"A bad beginning, Mark." + +Mark rather winced. "Are you going to turn against me, Oswald? To +throw cold water on it?" + +Oswald Cray looked very grave as he answered. Mark was not his own +brother, and he could not urge him too much; but a conviction seated +itself in his heart, perhaps not for the first time, that Mark had +inherited their father's imprudence. + +"These considerations are for you, Mark; not for me. If I speak of +them to you, I do so only in your true interest. We have never been +brothers, therefore I do not presume to give a brother's counsel,--you +would deem I had no right to do it. Only be prudent, for your own sake +and Caroline's. Good evening, if you will go back." + +Neal admitted Mr. Oswald Cray, and Neal's face lighted up with the +most apparent genuine pleasure at doing it. Neal was the quintessence +of courteous respect to his betters, but an additional respect would +show itself in his manner to Mr. Oswald Cray, from the fact possibly +that he had served in the Oswald family at Thorndyke, and Mr. Oswald +Cray was so near a connection of it. + +Dr. Davenal was then in the garden-parlour with Sara. The noisy boys +were regaling themselves with good things in the dining-room, under +the presidentship of Miss Bettina. A few moments, and the doctor and +Mr. Oswald Cray were deep in the discussion of the proposition that +had so moved them; the doctor being the first to speak of it. Sara sat +near the window, doing some light work. A fair picture she looked, in +her evening dress; her cheeks somewhat flushed, her neck so fair and +white, the gold chain lying on it; her pretty arms partially hidden by +their white lace. Dr. Davenal stood in a musing attitude on the other +side of the window, and Mr. Oswald Cray sat between them, a little +back, his elbow on the centre table, his chin on his hand. + +"Mark has just told me of it," he observed, in reply to Dr. Davenal. +"I met him as I walked here. I was very much surprised." + +"Not more surprised than I," returned the doctor. + +"At least, surprised that he should have spoken to you so soon." + +"What do you think of it?" asked the doctor, abruptly. + +"Nay, sir, it is for you to think," was the reply of Oswald Cray, +after a momentary pause. + +"I know--in that sense. My opinion is, that it is exceedingly +premature." + +"Well--yes, I confess it appears so to me. I told Mark so. There's one +thing, Dr. Davenal--some men get on all the better for marrying +early." + +"True: and some all the better for waiting. I like those men who have +the courage and patience to wait, bearing steadily on to the right +moment and working for it. I married very early in life myself, but my +circumstances justified it. Where circumstances do not justify it, a +man should wait. I don't mean waiting on to an unreasonable time, +until the sear and yellow leaf's advancing; nothing of that: but +there's a medium in all things. I am sure you would not rush into an +imprudent marriage: you'd wait your time." + +A smile parted Oswald Cray's lips. "I am obliged to wait, sir." + +"That is, prudence obliges you?" + +"Yes; that's it." + +"And I make no doubt your income is a good deal larger than the +present one of Mark?" + +"I believe it is." + +Dr. Davenal stood in silence, twirling his watch chain. "Give me your +advice," he said, turning to Mr. Oswald Cray. + +"Dr. Davenal, may I tell you that I would prefer not to give it? By +blood Mark is my half-brother; but you know the circumstances under +which we were reared--that we are, in actual fact, little more than +strangers; and I feel the greatest delicacy in interfering with him in +anyway. I will do him any good that I can: but I will not give advice +regarding him in so momentous a step as this?" + +Dr. Davenal understood the feeling, it was a perfectly proper one. "Do +you think he has much stability?--enough to steer him safely through +life, clear of shoals and quicksands?" + +Oswald Cray's opinion was that Mark possessed none. But he was not +sure: he had had so little to do with him. "Indeed, I cannot speak +with certainty," was his answer. "Mark is far more of a stranger to me +than he is to you. Stability sometimes comes with years only; with +time and experience." + +"I cannot tell you how surprised I was," resumed the doctor, after a +pause. "Had Mark come and proposed to marry Bettina, I could not have +been more astonished. The fact is, I had somehow got upon the wrong +scent." + +"The wrong scent?" exclaimed Mr. Oswald Cray, looking up. + +"I don't mind telling you, considering how different, as it has turned +out, was the actual state of things," said Dr. Davenal, with a laugh. +"I fancied you were inclined to like Caroline?" + +Mr. Oswald Cray's deep-set blue eyes were opened wider than usual in +his astonishment. "What caused you to fancy that?" + +"Upon my word I don't know. Looking back, I think how foolish I must +have been. But you see, that idea tended to obscure my view as to +Mark." + +Oswald Cray rose from his seat, and stood by Dr. Davenal, looking from +the window. + +"Had it been so, would you have objected to me?" he asked; and in his +voice, jesting though it was, there rang a sound of deep meaning. + +"No, I would not," replied Dr. Davenal. "I wish it had been so. Don't +talk of it; it will put me out of conceit of Mark." + +Mr. Oswald Cray laughed, and stole a glance at Sara. Her cheeks were +crimson; her head was bent closer to her work than it need have been. + +At that moment Dr. Davenal's carriage was heard coming up the side +lane, Roger's head and shoulders just visible over the garden wall. +Dr. Davenal gave the man a nod as he passed, as much as to say he +should be out immediately, and retreated into the room. It had broken +the thread of the discourse. + +"You came down in answer to Lady Oswald's message?" he observed. "She +said she had sent for you." + +"Not in answer to the message. I came away before it reached London: +at any rate before it reached me." + +"Lady Oswald's in a fine way. I suppose nothing can be done?" + +"Nothing at all. It is unfortunate that her grounds abut just on that +part of the line." + +"She will never stop in the house." + +"You see, the worst is, that she has just entered upon the third term +of her lease. She took it for seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years. I +am not sure, however, that Mr. Low, under the circumstances, could +oppose her depart"-- + +"Uncle Richard, the carriage is come round to the door. How are you, +Mr. Oswald Cray?" + +The interruption came from the boys. Both had rushed in without any +regard to noise; or rather to the avoidance of it. Mr. Oswald Cray +shook hands with them, and the doctor turned to shake hands with +_him_. + +"I have to see a patient or two tonight. A poor countrywoman's son is +ill, and I promised her to go over this evening if possible. Perhaps +you'll be here when I return. Bettina and the girls will give you some +tea." + +He hurried out; and the boys after him, clamorously enough. During +their holidays, Dr. Davenal could rarely get into his carriage without +those two dancing attendance round it, like a bodyguard of jumping +savages. Mr. Oswald Cray turned to Sara, who had risen also, and stood +before her. + +"Just one moment, Sara, for a single question. Did _you_ fall into the +misapprehension that I was growing attached to your cousin?" + +Her manner grew shrinkingly timid; her eyelashes were never raised +from her hot cheeks. It seemed that she would have spoken, for her +lips parted; but there came no sound from them. + +"Nay, but you must answer me," he rejoined, some agitation +distinguishable in his tone. "Did you do me the injustice to suppose I +had any thought of Caroline?" + +"No. O no." + +He drew a deep breath, as if the words relieved him, took her hand in +his, and laid his other hand upon it, very seriously. + +"It was well to ask: but I did not think you could so have mistaken +me. Sara! I am not an imprudent man, as I fear Mark is; I could not, +in justice to the woman whom I wish to make my wife, ask her to leave +her home of comfort until I can surround her with one somewhat +equivalent to it. I think--I hope--that another year may accomplish +this. Meanwhile--you will not misunderstand me, or the motives of my +silence?" + +She lifted her eyes to his face to speak: they were swimming in tears: +lifted them in her earnestness. + +"I shall never misunderstand you, Oswald." + +And Mr. Oswald Cray, for the first time in his life, bent his lips on +hers to seal the tacit bargain. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +EDWARD DAVENAL. + + +It was a charming evening in the month of October. The heat of summer +was over, the cool calm autumn reign ad in all its loveliness. Never +had the sun set more brilliantly than it was setting now; never did it +give token of a finer day for the morrow; and that morrow was to be +Caroline Davenal's wedding-day. + +Persuasion and promises had proved stronger than Dr. Davenal and +prudence, and he had consented to the early marriage, it may be said +reluctantly. He had urged upon them the verb to wait: but neither of +them appeared inclined to conjugate it; Caroline especially, strange +as it may seem to have to say it, had turned a deaf ear. So the doctor +had yielded, and the plans and projects for the carrying the wedding +out were set on foot. + +Dr. Davenal had behaved generously. He increased Mark Cray's share to +four hundred a-year, and he gave them a cheque for three hundred +pounds for furniture. "You must be content to have things at the +beginning in a plain way, if you must be in a hurry," he said to them; +"when you get on you can add costly furniture by degrees." Miss +Bettina would not give anything. Not a penny-piece. "No," she said to +Caroline; "you are flying in the face of wiser heads than yours, and I +will not encourage it. If you don't mind, you'll come to grief." + +Caroline laughed at the "coming to grief." Perhaps not without cause. +Were they but commonly prudent there would be little fear of it. Four +hundred a-year to begin upon, and a great deal more in prospective, +was what many and many a couple beginning life might have envied. Even +Dr. Davenal began to think he had been over-cautious. It might have +been better to wait a year or two, but they would do well as it was, +if they chose. If they chose! it all lay in that. Perhaps what made +people think of imprudence in their case was, that both had been +reared to enjoy a much larger income. + +Those prudential fears and scruples were over, however; they belonged +to the past; nobody retained them in the actual face of preparation. +When Mark Cray was looking out for a house, the Abbey, yet untenanted, +occurred to him. It had been his father's residence; it carried a +certain weight of position with it; and he thought it would be well +that it should be his. Dr. Davenal acquiesced: it was certainly rather +farther from his own residence than was convenient; and it was at the +opposite end of the town; but that fact might have its advantages as +well as its disadvantages: and Mark took the Abbey at a yearly rental. + +How busy they had been, furnishing it and getting the wedding clothes +ready, they alone could tell! In this bustle, in the satisfaction of +buying the new furniture, and settling it in its appointed places, the +old prudent objections, I say, were lost sight of; completely +forgotten. Miss Bettina thawed so far as to go down two whole days to +the Abbey, and superintend; and she read Caroline lessons on domestic +management and economy from morning until night. + +Oswald Cray had delicately placed a fifty-pound note in his brother's +hands. "Present-giving at these times seems to be the order of the +day, Mark," he carelessly said. "If you and Caroline will choose +something for yourselves, and save me the trouble, I shall be glad. +You know more about dressing-cases and work-boxes than I do." +Altogether, the Abbey,--what with the purchased furniture, and a few +pretty things that went down out of Dr. Davenal's house,--was quite +sufficiently well set up. + +And now it was the evening preceding the wedding, and the house was in +a commotion of preparation. Servants were running hither and thither; +Miss Bettina, with her sharp voice and her deaf ears, was everywhere, +creating no end of mistakes; the breakfast-table was being laid out; +Sara was quietly helping Jessy to pack her cousin's travelling trunk; +and Caroline, useless as usual, was going into ecstasies over a +present which had just come in. + +It was from Lady Oswald. A handsome tea and coffee-pot with their +stands, sugar-basin and cream-jug, all of solid silver. Caroline ran +round the house to get admirers to view it, and ran into the room of +Dr. Davenal. + +Neal was coming out as she entered, a waiter in his hand, therefore it +was evident he had been bearing something to his master. Dr. Davenal +stood before the window looking at an unopened note. + +"O uncle, do come and see! It is the best present I have had: a silver +tea-service. I did not expect anything like it from Lady Oswald." + +"Presently, child. All in good time." + +He laid down the note on the table, as he spoke, not having opened it. +Caroline thought his tone and countenance were alike sad. + +"Has anything vexed you, Uncle Richard?" + +"A little, Carine. When one waits for the sight of a dear face, and +the hours go by in expectation, hour after hour, from the opening of +the day to its close, the disappointment brings a chill." + +Caroline wondered. She did not understand that longing waiting yet. +"Do you allude to Edward, Uncle Richard?" + +Whom else should he allude to? Since Richard's death, Edward Davenal +had grown dearer than ever son did to father. Dr. Davenal could +willingly have laid down his life for him, and thought it no +sacrifice. Ah! if these sons and daughters could but realise this +precious love that is lavished on them in all its strange intensity! + +"Aunt Bettina's vexed that he is not here. She says it will be putting +the dinner off." + +"We are too impatient, Caroline. I daresay he could not get here +sooner. Here's Mark," added the doctor. + +Dr. Davenal's carriage was drawing up to the gate. The doctor had +despatched Mark in it that afternoon to see a country patient: he +waited at home for his son. Roger looked to the house as Mr. Cray got +out, wondering whether the carriage was wanted again, or whether he +might drive it round to the coach-house. Dr. Davenal raised his hand +by way of signal, and was hastening out. + +"_Won't_ you come and see my teapot and things, Uncle Richard?" cried +Caroline, piteously. + +"When I come back, Carine. The teapot can wait." + +"And there's that note on the table," she said, resenting the slight +on the teapot. "You have never opened it." + +"That can wait too. I know what it is." The doctor walked quickly on, +and Caroline followed him to the front door. Mark was coming in. + +"Is the London train in, Mark?--did you notice as you came by? There's +one due." + +"I did not notice," replied Mark. "I don't much think it is in. I saw +no bustle." + +Dr. Davenal stepped into the carriage. "Turn round, Roger. The railway +station." + +The whistle was sounding as they drew near, and Roger whipped up his +steeds. The doctor stepped on to the platform as the train dashed +in. He elbowed his way amidst the crowd, trying to peer into every +first-class carriage. + +"Edward!" + +"My dear father!" + +Captain Davenal leaped lightly out--an upright, slender man, with the +unmistakable look of the soldier; a dark, handsome face, and a free +and ready voice. + +"I have been looking for you all day, Ned." + +"Not up here, surely?" + +Dr. Davenal laughed. "Not likely. I just happened to come up now; so +it's all right. You have some luggage, I suppose?" + +"A portmanteau. My servant's here." + +"Good evening, Dr. Davenal. Ah, captain! how are you?" + +The salutation came from a passenger who had likewise stepped out of a +first-class compartment. They turned to behold Oswald Cray. + +"Why! you don't mean to say that you have come by this train?" cried +Captain Davenal, in his quick manner. + +"Yes I have. And you?" + +"I have come by it, too. Where were our eyes, I wonder?" + +"In our own compartment, I expect," said Oswald Cray. "I was at the +end of the train, and did not get out during the journey." + +"Neither did I. The same errand brings us, I suppose--Caroline's +wedding? It's fine to be Mark Cray! You and I must wait for our +honours: we can't afford these grand doings yet." + +Dr. Davenal looked at his son. "If you can't afford them now Ned, when +are you to afford them?" + +Captain Davenal's answer was to shrug his shoulders. "There may come +in a great rich ship some day," he said, with his ready laugh. "Are +you going that way, Mr. Oswald Cray? We shall see you by and by." + +All the pride and affection of the father shone out in Dr. Davenal's +face as he passed through the town, sitting by the side of his brave +son, who was in Roger's place, and drove. A hundred hats were taken +off; a hundred pleased faces greeted them. The doctor remained +passive, save for smiles; but Captain Davenal's gay face was turned +from side to side, in answer to the salutations, and he had something +else to do besides attending to his horses. + +"Take care, Ned." + +"All right, sir," was the young officer's careless answer. But he +escaped the wheel of a meeting carriage by only half an inch; and +Roger, seated behind, said to himself that the captain had not yet +grown out of his randomness. + +He pulled the horses up with a jerk when they arrived, leaped out, and +turned to give his hand to his father. Neal had the door open, and +Edward Davenal passed him with a nod and a fleet foot, for he saw his +sister's face behind, bright with joyous tears. He kissed them away. + +"Sara, you foolish child! Keep the tears until I go again." + +"When will that be, Edward?" + +"Tomorrow evening. Hush!" he whispered, checking her startled +exclamation. "Let me take my own time for telling papa. I know he will +be vexed." + +"We thought you would stay a week at least." + +"I wish I could! Leave is difficult to get at all just now, on account +of---- I'll tell you more later, Sara." + +Miss Bettina Davenal was at hand, waiting for her greeting. In the old +days of his boyhood, she and he were undisguised enemies. The boy was +high-spirited and rude to her, ten times worse than poor Richard: he +had been the first to call her Aunt Bett, and to persist in it, in +spite of her angry displeasure. He called it her still. + +"Well, Aunt Bett! You are looking younger than ever." + +"Are you quite well, Nephew Edward?" + +"In high feather, aunt. And mean to keep so until the wedding's over. +When is yours to be, Aunt Bett?" + +"Tomorrow at eleven," was Aunt Bett's unconscious answer. "And right +glad I shall be when it has taken place." + +The shout of laughter vexed Miss Davenal; she wondered what the +mistake was. But the captain turned away, for Caroline was stealing +towards them with conscious cheeks, and the new silver teapot in her +hand. + +"It was unkind of you not to come before, Edward," she said. "Some of +my beautiful new dresses are packed up now, and you can't see them." + +"I shan't die of the disappointment, Carry," was the ungallant +rejoinder of the captain. "What's that you are carrying? A trophy?" + +"It's a teapot. It is part of Lady Oswald's present. Her's is the best +of all, and I have had so many. Come and look at them: they are laid +out in the garden-room." + +"So many teapots?" inquired the captain. + +"Nonsense, Edward! You know I meant presents." + +He drew something covertly from his pocket, and clasped it on her +neck. It was a dazzling necklace. Caroline, loving ornaments +excessively, was wild with delight. + +"O Edward! how kind you are! I never liked you as much as I do now." + +"Candid!" cried the captain: and Dr. Davenal laughed outright as he +walked away to his consulting-room. + +His son followed him. The doctor had taken up the note which he had +left on the table, and was about to open it when something strange in +its appearance struck upon his eye. He carried it to the window and +looked minutely at its fastening, at the claret-coloured crest stamped +in the envelope, that of the Oswald family. + +"Edward," said he, "does it look to you as if this envelope had been +tampered with--opened, in fact?" + +Captain Davenal examined the fastening. It was quite daylight still, +though less bright than before the sun went down. "There's not a doubt +of it, in my opinion," he said, handing the note back to his father. + +"It's very strange," exclaimed the doctor. "Do you know, it has +occurred to me lately to think that two or three of my letters have +been opened." + +"By their appearance?" + +"By their appearance. But I could not be certain how or when it was +done. For aught I know, they might have been reopened by their writers +before forwarding them to me. I do feel, however, sure that this one +has been tampered with since it lay here. It came by the same +messenger that brought Caroline's present, and Neal brought it in to +me. I was deep in thought at the time, and I turned it about in my +fingers, looking at it, but not opening it. I knew what its contents +were--that they concerned a little matter Lady Oswald had to write to +me upon--and I did not open it, but went to the station, leaving it on +the table. Now I am fully certain that that appearance of reopening +was not on it then." + +"Who can have opened it, then?" quickly cried Captain Davenal. + +"Neal." + +"Neal!" + +"Neal--as I suspect." + +"But I thought Neal was so faithful a man--so good a servant +altogether!" + +"An excellent servant, though I have never liked him. And latterly I +have suspected the man's truth and honesty. I don't mean his honesty +in regard to goods and chattels, but in regard to his own nature. If +my letters have been opened, rely upon it, it is he who has done it." + +"Have you spoken to him?" + +"No. I shall speak now, though." + +Dr. Davenal rang the bell, and Neal appeared. So calm, so quietly +unconcerned!--not in the least like a man who has just tampered with +his master's letters. + +"Come forward, Neal. Shut the door for a minute. When I went out just +now I left this note on the table--the one you brought in to me from +Lady Oswald's servant I did not open it before I went out;--but it +looks to me as if it had been opened since, and closed up again." + +Dr. Davenal spoke in a quiet tone. Neal, entirely unruffled, save by a +slight natural surprise, stepped close up to the table, and looked +first at Dr. Davenal and then at the note, which, however, the doctor +did not particularly show to him. + +"I should think not, sir. There has been no one here to open it." + +"That it has been opened I feel certain. Who has been in the room?" + +"Not any one, sir," replied Neal. "It has not been entered, so far as +I know, since you left it." + +There was nothing more to be said, and Dr. Davenal signed to him to +go. "I could not accuse him downright," he remarked to his son; "but +enough has been said to put him on his guard not to attempt such a +thing again." + +"He does not look like a guilty man," cried Captain Davenal. "It is +next to impossible to suspect Neal of such a thing. He is too--too--I +was going to say too much of a gentlemen," broke off Captain Davenal, +laughing at his own words. "At any rate, too respectable. His manner +betrayed nothing of guilt--nothing of cognisance of the affair. I +watched him narrowly." + +"True; it did not. He is an innocent man, Ned, or else a finished +hypocrite. Of course I may be wrong in my suspicions: honestly to +confess it, I have no cause to suspect Neal, beyond the powerful +feeling in my mind that he's not to be trusted--a feeling for which I +have never been able to account, although it has been upon me since +the first day I engaged him." + +"We do take up prejudices without knowing why," remarked Captain +Davenal. "I suppose sometimes they are false ones.--Here's Neal coming +in again." + +"I beg your pardon, sir, for having so positively assured you that no +one had been in your room," he said, addressing his master. "I +remember now that Mr. Cray entered it. I did not think of it, sir, at +the moment you questioned me." + +"If he did, he'd not touch the letter," said Dr. Davenal. + +"Certainly not, sir. But I thought it right to come and mention to you +that he had been in." + +Neal withdrew, and Captain Davenal looked at his father. "The man +seems quite honest in the matter. I think this is an additional proof +of it. Had he opened the letter himself he would not have forgotten +that another person had been in the room." + +Very soon Neal appeared again. This time it was to say that dinner was +served. Dr. Davenal nodded to him to close the door; he and his son +were deep in conversation. + +Ten minutes elapsed before they came out. Miss Bettina fidgeted and +grumbled, but it did not bring them; and when they did come, the +doctor had a strange cloud upon his brow. Edward also, or else Sara +fancied it; but he grew merry as the dinner advanced, joking and +laughing with every one. + +She took the opportunity of speaking to him after dinner. He went out +on the lawn at the back to smoke his cigar in the starlight, and Sara +stole after him. He threw his arm round her, and they paced the gravel +walk. + +"Were you telling papa before dinner that you should have to leave +tomorrow?" she asked. + +"I was telling him worse than that, my little sister." + +"Worse?" + +"You loving ones at home will think it so. You will, Sara. And my +father--it's a blow to my father." + +Sara Davenal's heart was beating against her side; a thousand +improbabilities rushed into her brain. "Tell it me, Edward," she said, +very calmly. Sometimes, in moments of agitation, she could be calm, +almost unnaturally so, outwardly. It is frequently the case with those +who feel the deepest. + +"The regiment's ordered abroad." + +"O Edward!" + +For a few minutes neither spoke again. Sara's greatest thought was for +her father. She seemed to have divined how cruelly Dr. Davenal felt +the separation from his sons; Richard dead, Edward in London with his +regiment. If he had to go abroad to remote countries, thousands of +miles away--why, almost as good that he had died. They should feel it +so. + +"And that explains why I could not get a long leave," he resumed. +"There's so much of preparation to be made; and we officers have to +look to everything, for the men as well as for ourselves. We sail in a +week or two." + +They paced on in silence. Captain Davenal suddenly looked down at her, +and detected tears. + +"Don't grieve, child. I am but a worthless sort of brother, after +all--never with you. Perhaps I shall come back a better one." + +"Edward, can't you sell out?" + +"Sell out!" he exclaimed, in astonishment. "Sell out because we are +ordered on active service. You are a brave soldier's sister, Miss Sara +Davenal!" + +"Some time ago, when there was a question of the regiment's going out, +you were to have exchanged into another, and remained at home, Edward. +It was just after Richard's death, I remember. Can you not do that +now?" + +"No, I cannot. I can neither sell out nor exchange. It is impossible." + +There was so much grave meaning in his tone that Sara looked up +involuntarily. He laughed at her earnest face. + +"O Edward! _must_ you go!" + +"There's no help for it. We go to Malta first. India--as we +suppose--afterwards." + +"Papa may be dead before you return." + +"No, no! I trust not." + +"It will be as though he had no children!" she exclaimed, almost +passionately, in her love for her father, in her grief. "Richard dead; +you gone: he will have none left." + +"He will have you, Sara." + +"I! Who am I?" + +"The best of us. You have given him no grief in all your life; I and +poor Dick have: plenty. It is best as it is, Sara." + +She could scarcely speak for the sobs that were rising. She strove +bravely to beat them down, for Sara Davenal's was an undemonstrative +nature, and could not bear that its signs of emotion should be +betrayed outwardly. She loved her brother greatly; even the more, as +the doctor did, for the loss of Richard; and this going abroad for an +indefinite period, perhaps for ever, rang in her ears as the very +knell of hope. He might never return: he might go away, as Richard +had, only to die. + +How long they continued to pace that walk underneath the privet-hedge, +which skirted and hid the narrow side path leading from the house to +the stables, Sara scarcely knew. Captain Davenal spoke little; he +seemed buried in thought: Sara could not speak at all; her heart was +full. Rarely had the night's brilliant stars looked down on a sadness +deeper felt than was that of Sara Davenal. + +"You will come down again to take leave of us?" she asked, after a +while. + +"Of course I shall." + + + + +CHAPTER X. +A TREAT FOR NEAL. + + +Nearly four-and-twenty hours subsequent to that, Dr. Davenal was +pacing the same walk side by side with Lady Oswald. The wedding was +over, the guests were gone, and the house, after the state breakfast, +had resumed its tranquillity. Of the guests, Lady Oswald had alone +remained, with the exception of Mr. Oswald Cray. It was one of those +elaborate breakfast-dinners which take hours to eat, and five o'clock +had struck ere the last carriage drove from the door. + +Lady Oswald asked for some tea; Miss Davenal, as great a lover of tea +as herself, partook of it with her. Captain Davenal preferred a cigar, +and went into the garden to smoke it: Mr. Oswald Cray accompanied him, +but he never smoked. Both of them were to return to town by the seven +o'clock train. + +By and by, the tea over, the rest came out on the lawn to join +them--Lady Oswald and Miss Davenal in their rich rustling silks, Sara +in her white bridesmaid's dress. The open air of the warm, lovely +evening was inexpressibly grateful after the feasting and fuss of the +day, and they lingered until twilight fell on the earth. Miss Davenal +went in then: but Lady Oswald wrapped her Indian cashmere shawl, worth +a hundred guineas Hallingham said, more closely round her, and +continued to talk to Dr. Davenal as they paced together the sidewalk. + +Her chief theme was the one on which you have already heard her +descant--that unwelcome project of the railway sheds. It had dropped +through for a time. There had been a lull in the storm ever since it +was broached in the summer. Lady Oswald complacently believed her +remonstrance had found weight with the authorities of the line, to +whom she had addressed a long, if not a very temperate letter: but, in +point of fact, the commencement of the work had been delayed for some +convenience of their own. Only on this very morning a rumour had +reached Lady Oswald's ears that it was now to be set about +immediately. + +"I am not satisfied with Oswald," she was saying to the doctor. "Did +you observe how he avoided the subject at the breakfast-table? When I +told him that he might exercise his influence with the company, and +prevent it if he pleased, he turned it off quietly." + +"I think he did not care to defend himself publicly, or to enter upon +the matter," observed the doctor. "Rely upon it, he would prevent it +if he could; but his power does not extend so far." + +"I know he _says_ it does not," was the observation of Lady Oswald. +"Do you think he is true?" + +"True!" repeated Dr. Davenal, scarcely understanding in his surprise. +"Oswald Cray true! Yes, Lady Oswald. Never man lived yet more honestly +true than Oswald Cray." + +He looked towards Oswald Cray as he spoke, pacing the broad middle +walk with his son and Sara; at the calm good face with its earnest +expression, every line, every feature speaking truth and honour; and +the doctor's judgment re-echoed his words. + +"Yes, Lady Oswald, he is a _true_ man, whatever else he may be." + +"I always deemed him so. But--to protest that he would help me if he +could; and now to let this dreadful threat arise again!" + +"But he cannot prevent its arising," returned the doctor, wishing Lady +Oswald would exercise a little common-sense in the matter. "He is but +a servant of the company, and must carry out their wishes." + +"I don't believe it," peevishly replied Lady Oswald. "He is the +engineer to the company; and it is well known that an engineer does as +he pleases, and lays his own plans." + +"He is one of the engineers; the junior one, it may be said. I suppose +you will not forgive me, Lady Oswald, if I point out, that when your +interests and the line's are at issue, as in this matter, Oswald Cray, +of all others, is forced to obey the former." + +"Was there ever so monstrously wicked a project formed?" asked Lady +Oswald, with some agitation. + +"It is very unfortunate," was the more temperate reply. "I wish they +had fixed upon any grounds but yours." + +"I wish they had! It will send me into my grave!" + +Careless words! spoken, as such words mostly are spoken, unmeaningly. +If Lady Oswald could but have known how miserably they were destined +to be marked out! If Dr. Davenal had but foreseen how that marking out +would affect all his after-life--change, as it were, its current, and +that of one who was dear to him! + +"And because that worry was not enough, I have had a second to annoy +me today," resumed Lady Oswald. "Jones gave warning to leave." + +"Indeed!" returned Mr. Davenal, and the tone of his voice betrayed his +concern. He knew how minor vexations were made troubles of by Lady +Oswald; and the parting with Jones, her steady coachman of many years, +would be a trouble not much less great than this threatened building +of the sheds. + +"Why is Jones leaving?" he inquired. + +"Because he does not know when he's well off," was the retort, spoken +querulously. "The servants latterly have been all quarrelling +together, I find, and Jones says he won't remain. I asked Parkins what +she was good for not to stop their quarrelling, and she burst into +tears in my face, and said it was not her fault. You are best off, +doctor. Your servants are treasures. Look at Neal!" + +"I don't know that Neal is much of a treasure," was the doctor's +answer. "I'd make him over to your ladyship with all the pleasure in +life. Do you feel the chill of the evening air?" + +Lady Oswald looked up at the clear sky, at the evening star, just +visible, and said she did not feel the chill yet. + +Dr. Davenal resumed. + +"I have grown to dislike Neal, Lady Oswald. In strict correctness, +however, 'grown to dislike' is not the best term, for I have disliked +him ever since he has been with me. He"---- + +"Disliked Neal!" interrupted Lady Oswald, wondering whether she might +trust her ears. "You dislike Neal! Why?" + +"I can scarcely tell you why. I don't think I know, myself. But I do +very much dislike him; and the dislike grows upon me." + +"You never mentioned this. I thought you were so satisfied with Neal." + +"I have not mentioned it. I have felt a sort of repugnance to mention +what would appear so unfounded a prejudice. Neal is an efficient +servant, and the dislike arose to me without cause, just as instincts +do. Latterly, however, I begin to doubt whether Neal is so desirable a +retainer as we have deemed him." + +"In what way do you doubt him!" + +Dr. Davenal smiled. "A doubt has arisen to me whether he is _true_--as +you have just said by Mr. Oswald Cray. I shall watch the man; and, now +that my suspicions are awakened, detection will be more easy. Should +he turn out to be what I fear--a deceitful fellow, worse than +worthless--he will be sent out of my house head foremost, at a +minute's warning, and get his true character. Lady Oswald, I think I +could pardon anything rather than deceit." + +"How angrily you speak!" breathlessly exclaimed Lady Oswald. The words +recalled him to courtesy. + +"I fear I did; and I ought to have remembered that he was a respected +servant once of Sir John's, that it was you who recommended him to me. +You will pardon my warmth, Lady Oswald. To any less close friend than +yourself I should not have mentioned this. The fact is, a most +unjustifiable trick was played me yesterday, and it is impossible for +me to suspect anybody but Neal. I shall watch him." + +"What trick was it?" asked Lady Oswald. + +Dr. Davenal hesitated before he spoke. "Perhaps it would be scarcely +fair to mention it, even to you, Lady Oswald. I am not certain: +there's just a loophole of possibility. If I find I am wrong, I will +honestly confess it to you; if the contrary, you and the world will +know what a worthless scamp we have nourished in Neal." + +Very agreeable words indeed! especially to Neal himself, who had the +satisfaction of hearing them. Mr. Neal, with his soft tread, was +gingerly pacing the narrow path behind the privet-hedge, his steps +keeping level with theirs; he having strolled out to take the evening +air, and to hear all that he could hear. + +They were interrupted by the approach of Captain Davenal and Mr. +Oswald Cray. It was getting towards the hour of their departure. Sara +came up with them. The doctor laid his hand on his daughter's +shoulder, and she walked by his side. + +"Going? Nonsense!" said the doctor. "There's no hurry yet." + +"When shall you be down again, Oswald?" asked my lady. + +"I believe very shortly. I must be down---- about these alterations," +he had been on the point of saying, but stopped himself in time. There +was no cause for bringing up the sore story oftener to her than was +necessary. + +"Will you promise that they shall not build those horrible sheds?" + +"If it lay with me, I would willingly promise it," was his reply, "I +wish you would believe me, dear Lady Oswald." + +"Of course I have no claim upon you," she fretfully continued. "I +know that. It is not my fault if I am unable to leave my fortune to +you--what little I may have to leave. There are others who, in my +opinion, have a greater claim upon me." + +He seemed not to understand her. He turned his glance full upon her. +"I beg your pardon. What did you say, Lady Oswald?" + +"Oswald, I have never spoken distinctly to you about my money," she +resumed. "I like you very much, and should have been glad to leave +some to you; it is natural you should be looking out for it, but"---- + +Every line of his pale face was ablaze with pride as he interrupted +her; his voice, calm, low, terribly stern, was ten times more +impressive in its truth than one loud and angry could have been. +"Allow me to set you right, Lady Oswald. I have never in my life +looked for one shilling of money from you: I do not recognise, or +believe in, or see any claim I can by possibility have upon it: of the +whole world, the Oswalds are those upon whom I could least recognise +it--from whom I would the least accept it. I pray your ladyship to +understand me in the fullest sense of the words--_from whom I would +never accept it_." + +Never had he looked so like the Oswalds as he looked then. The red +colour came into Sara's cheeks, and a faint sense of dread (did it +come as a prophetic warning?) stole into her heart--that that pride +might prove her deadliest enemy; perhaps his. Lady Oswald's mood +changed, and she laughed. + +"You are independent, Oswald." + +"I am self-dependent," was his answer. "A fair field and no favour are +all I ask. I believe I can make my way in the world far better than +money could make it for me. It is what I mean to try at--and do, +Heaven helping me." + +"But you need not have glared at me in that way," she said, relapsing +into fretfulness. "I declare I thought it was old Sir Oswald of +Thorndyke come out of his grave. My nerves are not strong, and that +you know." + +A better feeling came over him, and he held out his hand to Lady +Oswald, his atoning smile wonderfully frank and sweet. "Forgive me if +anything in my speech or manner has offended you, dear Lady Oswald. +But I believe you vexed me more than I have ever been vexed in my +life." + +"Well, well; you shall be as independent as you please," said Lady +Oswald. "Let us change the subject. When do you intend to follow +Mark's example and marry?" + +"Not until I can afford it better than----than Mark could, I was going +to say," he added, glancing at Dr. Davenal and laughing. + +"You do mean to marry some time, Oswald?" + +"I hope so." + +The answer was spoken so fervently, that they looked at him in +surprise. Sara contrived to draw behind, and began plucking one of the +flowers, already closing to the night. He resumed carelessly, as if +conscious that his tones had been too earnest for general ears. + +"Men do marry for the most part in this good old-fashioned land of +ours, and my turn may come some time. I think our time is nearly up, +Davenal." + +The captain took out his watch. "In a minute or two. We can walk it in +ten minutes, if we put out our best speed." + +As they went in, Oswald Cray looked round for Sara, and found she had +not followed them. He turned back to her. + +"I must say goodbye to you. Sara! you are crying!" + +"O no," she answered, brushing away the rebellious tears. "It's +nothing." + +He took her hand and placed it within his arm, and they advanced +slowly to the house. "Will you tell me what the 'nothing' is?" he +asked in a low tone, which of itself was sufficient to invite +confidence. + +"I cannot bear to part with Edward," she answered. "Nothing has been +said about it; but he brought down bad news. They are ordered to +Malta; and thence, he thinks, they shall go to India. Edward said he +should tell you as you went back tonight." + +It was entire news to him, and he thought how greatly Dr. Davenal must +feel it. Few admired that fine young officer, Edward Davenal, more +than Oswald Cray. But he had no time to discuss it now, scarcely to +say a word of sympathy. + +"Goodbye," he whispered, as they halted on the threshold and he turned +to press her hand in both of his, bending his face a little down. +"Goodbye. And remember." + +"Remember what?" she asked. + +"That you don't belong quite to yourself now." + +He hastened in, leaving Sara standing there: standing there with the +significant words and their meaning beating pleasant changes on her +heart Captain Davenal came springing out. + +"Hush, darling, be brave!" he said, as he took the kiss from his +sister's lips. "Leave all that until I come down for my real +farewell." + +And Sara was brave, and dried her tears, and confided in the prospect +of that real farewell; little dreaming that it was destined never to +be spoken. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +LADY OSWALD'S JOURNEY. + + +Mr. Marcus Cray's marriage had taken place on a Thursday, and the time +went on to the following Saturday week with little to mark it. Enough, +as events were unhappily to turn out, was to mark it then. They, +Marcus Cray and his wife, were expected home that evening: but it is +not with them that we have just at present to do. + +On this Saturday morning, Oswald Cray had come down to Hallingham on +business connected with the line. In the course of the day he called +on Lady Oswald, and found her in a state not easy to describe. That +very morning certain men had been seen on her grounds, marking off the +small portion of its boundaries intended to be taken for the sheds. +Convinced that all her hopes of immunity had been but vain dreams, she +had become angry, hysterical, almost violent. Oswald Cray had never +seen her like this. + +It was an illustration of the misery we may inflict upon ourselves, +the evil spirit that will arise from self-grievance. In point of fact, +these sheds, to be built on a remote and low portion of her land, +could not prove any real annoyance to Lady Oswald; she would not see +them from her window; she did not go, ever, near the spot. The +grievance lay in her imagination; she had made it a bugbear, and there +it was. In vain Oswald Cray pointed out to her that it had been the +same thing with regard to the rail itself. When she first heard it was +to skirt her grounds, she had been as alarmed as she was now; but when +the work was complete, the trains were actually running, then Lady +Oswald found (though she did not acknowledge it) how void of reason +her alarm had been; had the trains been fifty miles off she could not +have seen less of them. It would be so with regard to the sheds, +Oswald Cray told her; he told her that even a less portion of the +ground would be taken than was at first intended: he did not add that +he, by his persistent efforts in her cause, had obtained this little +concession, but he might have told her so with truth. He assured her +that the thing _could not_ prove an annoyance to her. All in vain. He +might just as well have talked to the winds. She would not listen. +Parkins sat 'n tears, administering specifics for the "nerves," and +entreating my lady to be tranquil. My lady replied by saying she +should never be tranquil again, and she actually abused Mr. Oswald +Cray. + +"Nay," said Oswald, good-humouredly, "it is your landlord you should +blame, not me. He agreed to the thing instanter--the moment it was +proposed to him." + +Lady Oswald's cheeks were burning as she turned to Oswald. "If he had +refused, instead of consented, what then? Could they have done it in +spite of him?" + +"It would have been done eventually, I suppose. Not just yet: the +company would have had to bargain with him, perhaps to dispute the +matter with him legally: and all that takes time." + +"Had he persistently contended against it, the company might have +grown weary; have ended by fixing upon some other spot for their +sheds," she breathlessly cried, the excitement on her face deepening. + +Mr. Oswald Cray hesitated. "It is possible, certainly; but"-- + +"I will go to him," broke in Lady Oswald. "I will go to Low this very +hour." + +She started from her seat, upsetting a bottle which Parkins held in +her hand, almost upsetting Parkins herself in her vehemence. Mr. +Oswald Cray gently restrained her. + +"My dear Lady Oswald, you will do no good by going to Low now. It is +too late. The thing has gone too far." + +"It has not gone too far, Oswald Cray. So long as the sheds are not +begun it cannot be too late. If Low did give his consent, he can +retract it. The land is freehold, and freehold land cannot be seized +upon lightly. Get my things, Parkins, and order the carriage." And +Parkins submissively retired to obey. + +"Lady Oswald, believe me," said Oswald, impressively, "Mr. Low cannot +now retract his consent if he would. The agreement is signed; nay, I +believe the money is paid. Your going to him will do no possible good; +it can only be productive of further unpleasantness to yourself." + +"Have you a motive in keeping me away from him?" asked Lady Oswald, +and his brow momentarily contracted at her blind pertinacity. "Do you +know that I have never once seen him upon this subject I--never once." + +"No!" he said, really wondering at the omission. + +"I would not go to see him; I was too angry; I contented myself with +writing to him, and telling him what I thought; and then, you know, +until this blessed morning, when Jones came into the house with the +news that the men were measuring the land, I never thought the thing +would be really done. I will go to him now, Oswald Cray, and all you +can say against it will not avail with me. If you had any courtesy you +would accompany me, and add your voice to mine against this +unjustifiable wrong." + +Courtesy was an adjunct in which Oswald Cray was not naturally +deficient; in time, that day, he _was_. The business which brought him +down was pressing, must have his full attention, and be finished so as +to enable him to return to town that night. He had snatched these few +minutes, while the clerks at the company's offices were at dinner, +just to see Lady Oswald. + +"It would give me great pleasure to escort you anywhere, Lady Oswald, +but today I really cannot absent myself from Hallingham. I have my +hands full. Besides," he added, a frank smile on his face, "have you +forgotten how impossible it would be for me to go against the +agreement made by the company with Mr. Low, by soliciting that +gentleman to attempt to retract it?" + +"I see," said Lady Oswald, beating her foot pettishly on the carpet; +"better that I had called anybody to my aid than you. Are you +cherishing resentment against me, Oswald Cray?" + +Oswald Cray opened his dark blue eyes in surprise. + +"Resentment?--against you, Lady Oswald! Indeed I do not understand +you." + +"I thought you might be remembering what I said at Dr. Davenal's the +evening of your brother's wedding. I mean about the money; which I +said I could _not_ leave you," she continued in a low tone. "You took +me up so sharply." + +"I fear I did. I was vexed that you could so misapprehend my nature. +We need not recur to the subject, Lady Oswald. Let it pass." + +"I must say a word first, Oswald. I believe, with all your fiery +pride, and your aptitude to take offence, that your nature is honest +and true; that you would save me from annoyance if you could." + +"I would indeed," he interrupted earnestly. "Even from this threatened +annoyance I would doubly save you, if it were at all within my power." + +"Well, I want to say just this. I have always liked you very well; you +have been, in fact, a favourite of mine; and many a time it has +occurred to me to wish that I could put you down in my will"---- + +Lady Oswald, I pray you"---- + +"Now do be quiet, and hear me. I consider it a duty to myself to tell +you this, and I always intended to tell you before my death. I fully +believe what you say; that you do not wish for my money, that you +would prefer to make your own way; I say I fully believe that, Oswald. +There are some men--honourable to fastidiousness, I call them--who are +utterly incapable of casting a thought or a wish to the money of +others: you are one, as I believe; and there's the additional bar in +your case with regard to my money, that it comes from the Oswalds. I +don't think you would accept money in whatever form it came to you, +from the Oswald family." + +"I don't think I would," replied Oswald. And he spoke the truth of his +heart. + +"Still, I judge it right to give you this little word of explanation," +she proceeded. "I daresay, whenever my will comes to be read, that you +will feel surprised at its contents; may even deem that you had more +legal claim upon me than he who will chiefly inherit. I do not think +so. I have left my money to please myself: he to whom it is left has +the best claim upon me in my judgment. I am happy to know that he will +be rewarded: and he knows it." + +Oswald felt a little puzzled: the words "and he knows it" somewhat +excited his curiosity. With her own family, who alone (in Oswald +Cray's opinion) could be said to have claims on Lady Oswald, she held +but little communication: and a conviction stole over him that she did +not allude to them. He was destined (as it proved) never to forget +those words; and the construction he put upon them was, that the +future inheritor of the money knew he was named as the inheritor. He +said nothing. It was not a subject he cared to pursue; he had neither +right nor inclination to inquire as to the disposal of what Lady +Oswald might leave behind her. Had he dreamt of the ill those words +would work, he might have asked further particulars. + +"I thought I'd say this to you some time, Oswald. Had you been less +fiercely proud, and I more at liberty to dispose of what I have to +leave, I should regret not remembering you. As it is, perhaps all's +for the best." + +That again struck upon him as strange: "I more at liberty to dispose +of what I have to leave." Was she not at full and entire liberty?--if +so, why was she not? The question set Oswald thinking. + +But circumstances seemed inclined to prove themselves stronger than +Lady Oswald's will, in regard to this visit to her landlord. Her +coachman made his appearance with hindering news; one of the carriage +horses had fallen lame. + +"Accept it as an omen that the visit would have brought forth no good +luck," said Oswald Cray, with a smile, while Jones stood, deprecating +his lady's anger. + +A doubt flashed across her mind for a moment whether the excuse was +real, and the amazed Jones had to repeat it, and to assure his +mistress that he was going "right off" for the veterinary surgeon +then. + +"It will not avail," said Lady Oswald. "I shall go by train. Perhaps +you can tell me, Oswald Cray, at what hours the trains leave for +Hildon!" + +Oswald Cray said not another word of objection. To make use of the +railroad, to which her dislike had been so insuperable, proved that +she was indeed bent upon it. He bade her good-day and left, and +encountered Dr. Davenal's carriage in the avenue. The doctor was +arriving on his usual daily visit. + +She was somewhat of a capricious woman, Lady Oswald. A few months +before, in the summer-time, Dr. Davenal had been hoping, it may almost +be said secretly plotting--but the plotting was very innocent--to get +Lady Oswald to favour Mark Cray sufficiently to allow of _his_ paying +these daily visits. Since then Lady Oswald had, of her own accord, +become excessively attached to Mark. That is, attached in one sense of +the word. It was not the genuine esteem founded on long intimacy, the +love, it may be almost said, that draws one friend to another; it was +that artificial liking which suddenly arises, and has its result in +praising and patronising; artificial because so shallow. In the new +feeling, Lady Oswald had not only sanctioned Mark's visits to her in +the place of Dr. Davenal, but she had recommended him to everybody she +knew as the cleverest young surgeon in Hallingham or out of it. It had +been Mark's luck speedily to cure some fancied or real ailment of Lady +Oswald's in a notably short space of time, and Lady Oswald, who set it +down to skill, really had taken up the notion that he had not his +equal. We all know how highly-coloured for the time are these sudden +estimations of a popular doctor's skill. None rejoiced more than Dr. +Davenal, and he resigned Lady Oswald to Mark with inward satisfaction, +and the best grace in the world. But during Mark's absence on his +wedding-tour the doctor had taken again the daily visits. + +Roger pulled up in the gravel drive when he saw Mr. Oswald Cray; but +Oswald, who had out-stayed his time, could only shake hands with the +doctor and hasten onwards. Parkins met Dr. Davenal surreptitiously as +he entered: she had seen his approach, and she stole forwards on +tiptoe to meet him, her tears dropping. When Lady Oswald was in her +fretful moods, Parkins generally found refuge in tears. + +"What's the matter now?" asked the doctor. + +"The men have begun to measure the ground, and that stupid Jones came +running open-mouthed to the house with the news, and my lady heard +him," explained Parkins. "I'd not have told her: if people held their +tongues, the sheds might be built, and up, and she never know it. I +thought she'd have gone out of her mind, sir; and then Mr. Oswald Cray +came in, and he talked to her. I think she's calmer now; I heard her +talking quietly to Mr. Oswald Cray before he left. But she says she'll +go off by rail to Mr. Low's." + +"Is she in the drawing-room?" + +"Yes, sir. So well, to be sure, as she was this morning!" continued +Parkins, drying her tears. "I don't know when she has been in such +spirits, and all because Mr. Cray was coming home tonight with his +wife. The fancy she has taken for him is extraordinary: she has been +counting the days off since he was away, like a schoolgirl counts them +off before her holidays?" + +Dr. Davenal entered. He did not attempt to reason Lady Oswald out of +the visit to Mr. Low. Quite the contrary. He told her the short trip +by rail would do her good: and he thought, which he did _not_ tell +her, that the interview with Mr. Low might set the affair at rest +sooner than anything else would, by convincing her that there could be +no appeal against the fiat, no delay in the carrying out of the work. + +When Lady Oswald reached the station, it happened that Oswald Cray was +there. He was emerging from one of the private rooms with some plans +under his arm when he saw her. She looked scared at the bustle of the +station, and was leaning helplessly on her maid's arm, uncertain where +to go, what to do. Oswald hastened to her and took her on his arm. +Parkins slipped behind, quite thankful to see him: she was as little +used to the ways and confusion of a station as her mistress. + +"Will you venture still, Lady Oswald, with all this turmoil?" + +"Will you cease worrying me!" she answered, and the tone was a sharp +one, for she fancied he still wished to stop her, and resented the +intermeddling with her will. + +_Did_ he wish to stop her? If any such feeling was upon him, it must +surely have been instinct: a prevision of what the ill-fated journey +would bring forth; of the influence it would indirectly bear on his +own future life. + +He said no more. He led Lady Oswald at once to a first-class carriage, +placed her and Parkins in it, procured their return tickets, and then +leaned over the carriage-door and talked to Lady Oswald, ill as he +could spare the time. No man had kinder feelings at heart than Oswald +Cray, and it seemed to him scarcely courteous to leave her--for she +was in a tremor still--until the train should start. + +He talked to her in a gay laughing tone of indifferent subjects, and +she grew more at ease. "Only think!" she suddenly exclaimed, "I may +return with Mr. Cray and his wife! Dr. Davenal told me today they were +expected early in the evening; and this is the way they must come. I +shall be so glad when he is home!" + +Oswald shook his head at her with mock seriousness. "I'd not +acknowledge my faithlessness so openly, were I you, Lady Oswald. To +turn off Dr. Davenal for Mark, after so many years' adhesion to him!" + +"You know nothing about it, Oswald. I have not turned off Dr. Davenal. +But you may depend upon one thing--that Mark is a rising man. He will +make a greater name than you in the world." + +"Very likely. I hope he will make a name. For myself"---- + +The whistle sounded, and Oswald drew away from the door. Lady Oswald +put out her hand, and he shook it warmly. "Shall I see you on my +return!" + +"Possibly, just a glimpse," he answered. "I'll look out for you when +the train comes in. Goodbye." + +"But you'll wish me luck, Oswald--although you may be bound in honour +to the interests of the enemy and those wretched sheds." + +"I wish it you heartily and sincerely; in all ways, Lady Oswald." + +His tone was hearty as his words, his clasp sincere. Lady Oswald +withdrew her hand, and left him a pleasant, cordial smile as the train +puffed on. + +"One can't help liking him, Parkins, with all his obstinate +contrariness," she cried. "I wish he had been the surgeon! Only think +what a name he would have made, had he possessed his brother's +talent!" + +"So he would, my lady," dutifully acquiesced Parkins. + +"What a good thing we are alone! Most likely he contrived it. I +declare I don't dislike this," continued Lady Oswald, ranging her eyes +round the well-stuffed compartment. "It is almost as private as my own +carriage." + +"So it is, my lady," answered Parkins. And the train went smoothly on, +and in twenty minutes' time Lady Oswald was deposited safely at the +Hildon station. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +WAITING FOR NEWS. + + +Mark Cray and his wife had not indicated the precise hour of their +return: "early in the evening, but not to dinner; have tea ready," had +been Mrs. Cray's words to her servants in the letter received by them +on Friday morning. Sara Davenal went to the Abbey about five o'clock +to wait for them. + +Mark and Caroline were beginning as prudently as their best friends +could desire; two maid-servants only, engaged under the careful eye of +Miss Bettina, comprised their household. The large heavy door of the +Abbey opened to a large stone hall; on the left of this was a large +sitting-room, with cross-beams in its ceiling and deep-mullioned +windows, looking on to the branching lines of rails and the station in +the distance; not so pleasant a view as had been the gay Abbey +gardens. Indeed, with the doing away of those gardens, the pleasantest +part of the Abbey as a residence, had gone. It was a rambling sort of +place inside, with very little comfort. This room and the drawing-room +above were the only good-sized rooms in the house; four modern rooms +might have been put into that drawing-room, and what its carpeting +had cost was something to be talked of. The bedchambers were +pigeon-holes, the domestic offices dark closets paved with stone; in +short the Abbey was a grander place in sound than it was pleasant for +use. The Crays, who had lived in it so long, were party-giving people, +thinking more of show than comfort; the pigeon-holes were good enough +for them; the dark stone kitchens might be made the best of by the +servants; the great drawing-room, larger than anybody else's in +Hallingham, gladdened their hearts. It was certainly an imposing room +when filled with company and lights. + +Sara Davenal waited and waited in the downstairs room. She had taken +off her things, and made herself at home. Her dress was of dark-blue +silk, the bands of her brown hair were smooth and silken, and +excitement had brought a colour to her cheeks. She had never before +been parted from Caroline since the latter arrived, years ago, from +the West Indies. The tea was on the table in readiness, with a cold +fowl and tongue, thoughtfully ordered to be provided by Miss Davenal. + +Five o'clock; half-past five; six o'clock; half-past six; seven +o'clock; and still they had not come. Sara grew impatient--it is of no +use to deny it--and blamed them for want of punctuality. They had not +bargained for her feverish longing. + +She stood at the window, looking still, as she had done since five +o'clock. It had grown into night since she stood there; would have +grown to dark, but for the brilliant moon that lighted the heavens. A +servant came in. + +"Shall I bring lights, miss?" + +"Not yet. I want to watch for the train." + +The maid retired. Sara waited on--waited and waited, until she +felt sure that it must be half-past seven; but then she was counting +time by her own impatience, not by the clock. Her eyes began to grow +weary with the intense and incessant gaze at the station, and she +could see a good many people standing at its entrance in the +moonlight--stragglers, no doubt, waiting for the train, wondering, +like herself, that it was not in, and what had become of it. + +As she thus stood, there was a loud ring at the dour-bell. Sara flew +into the hall in glee, thinking how stupid she must have been not to +observe them crossing the bridge round by the lines; flew into the +hall, and was met by her aunt. + +Miss Davenal! when she had expected the bridegroom and bride! but Sara +had to make the best of it, and she did so in her pleasing, graceful +manner, drawing her aunt in by the hand to the dark room. + +"They have not come yet, Aunt Bettina." + +"Whatever's the meaning of this?" was the surprised question of Miss +Davenal. "All in the dark? and where are they?" + +"They have not come yet," repeated Sara. "Bring the lights," she added +in a low voice to the servant. + +"Not come! Where are they stopping?" + +"The train is not in, Aunt Bettina." + +"The what's not in?" + +"The train." + +"Why, what has come to it?" + +Miss Bettina, all amazed, and scarcely believing the information, went +hastily to the window, and looked towards the station. At that moment +the other servant, Dorcas, came into the room. She was not a stranger +to the family, having once lived with Miss Davenal, before that lady +took up her abode with her brother. Dorcas was getting on to be +middle-aged,--a sensible-looking woman, with a turned-up nose and +reddish hair. + +"Miss Sara," she whispered, "they are saying there's been an accident +to the train." + +Sara Davenal's heart seemed to stand still and then bound on again as +if it would break its bounds. + +"Who says it?" she gasped. + +"I saw the folks standing about, and talking one to the other; so I +opened my kitchen winder, and asked what was amiss, and they said the +seven o'clock train was not in, that it had met with an accident. Miss +Sara"---- + +But Miss Sara had turned from her. Silently snatching her shawl and +bonnet from the sofa where she had laid them, she quitted the room, +the unconscious Miss Davenal standing yet at the window. Dorcas +followed her, and, by the lights that were now being carried in, she +saw how white she looked. + +"Miss Sara, I was about to say that it may not be true," continued +Dorcas, as Sara hastily flung on her things. "_I_ don't think it is: +there'd be more uproar at the station if any news of that sort had +been brought in." + +"I am going over to see; I cannot remain in this suspense. Not go by +myself?" she repeated, in reply to the woman's remonstrance; +"nonsense, Dorcas! Everybody knows me: I am Dr. Davenal's daughter. +You stay with my aunt Bettina, and be sure don't alarm her if you can +help it." + +Pulling the door open with her own hand, she passed under the red +light of Mr. Cray's professional lamp, and hastened by the side-path +and the bridge round to the station. Her face was pale, her pulses +were beating. Sara Davenal had a quick imagination, and all the +horrors of accidents by rail that she had ever heard seemed to rise up +before her. + +There was no impediment offered to her entering the station. Several +persons were standing about, but they did not appear to notice her, +and she passed through the room where the tickets were given, on to +the platform. There she found herself in the midst of a crowd. Not a +moving crowd but a waiting crowd, whose faces were mostly turned one +way--that by which the expected train ought to come. Sara saw a +talkative porter, and got near him, a man she knew. + +"Has there been an accident?" she asked. + +"Well, miss, there's nothing known for certain. It's odd where the +train can be; and if anything _has_ happened, it's odder still that +the telegraph haven't brought word of it. I remember once she was half +an hour late before." + +"Who was?" asked Sara, bewildered. + +"This here seven o'clock train. 'Twarn't nothing wrong with her then; +some of them bothering excursion-trains had blocked up the line. I'd +lay, miss, it's the same thing tonight. The doctor ain't gone down the +line, is he?" + +"No, no. I am expecting my cousin and Mr. Cray." + +"It'll be all right, miss. She won't be long. We shall hear her steam +directly." + +Somewhat reassured, Sara turned, and was pushing her way through the +throng, wishing to get clear of it, when she found herself a sort of +prisoner. A gentleman had placed his arm before her, and looking up in +the moonlight she discerned the features of Oswald Cray. Her heart +gave a great bound of satisfaction, of _love_, and she almost caught +at his protecting hand. + +It was a curious and exciting scene. The station raising its imposing +height to the night sky, so blue and beautiful; the crowd gathered +there, unnaturally still in the intensity of awed expectation; the +lights and bustle of the town not far away; the noiseless tread of the +porters, as they moved restlessly in their suspense;--all made a +painfully interesting picture in the bright moonlight. + +Oswald Cray was waiting for the incoming train. It was the one he +intended to depart by. He drew Sara away from the throng, and gave her +his arm. Her heart was beating at the consciousness of his presence; +her whole frame had thrilled at the touch of his hand. + +"Is there danger, do you fear?" she whispered. + +"No, I trust not. I think not. Were anything wrong, the telegraph +would have brought the news. It must be some obstruction on the line." + +Sara's fear faded away. She had confidence in _him_. If he, so +experienced, the line's own engineer, saw no cause for dread, why +should she? Perhaps she could not quite banish one little corner of +doubt in her heart; perhaps Mr. Oswald Cray might have some slight +corner of fear himself, which he did not deem it expedient to impart +to her. + +"Did you get frightened, Sara?" he asked, as they walked slowly to and +fro in the moonlight. + +"I was at the Abbey waiting for them, and Dorcas, one of their new +servants, came to me with the news that people in the street were +saying there had been an accident. I was very much frightened and came +away; ran away, I may say," she added, smiling, "without saying +anything to Aunt Bettina." + +"Is she at the Abbey?" + +"She has just come. She expected they had returned." + +"I fear Lady Oswald is waiting for this train at Hildon," he remarked. +"She will not like the delay." + +"Indeed! Lady Oswald at Hildon!" + +He explained to her how it was: that Lady Oswald had gone to Mr. +Low's, and was not yet back. "Did you know that I called at your house +this afternoon?" he asked. + +"No," she said, lifting her head. "Did you call?" + +"It was about five o'clock. I have been very busy all day, but I +managed to get a minute. You were out, Neal said, and the doctor was +out; only Miss Davenal at home, so I did not go in." + +"I had come down to the Abbey," said Sara. "I thought they might +arrive by an earlier train than this. Are you obliged to go back to +London tonight?" + +"Quite obliged, if the train shall arrive to take me. What's that?" + +Some stir was discernible in the throng. Oswald Cray held his breath, +listening for any sound that might indicate the approach of the train; +but in the distance he could hear nothing, and the stir, caused +perhaps only by the restlessness of waiting, died away. They paced on +again. + +"Since I saw you, Sara, I have had an offer made me of going abroad." + +"To stay long?" she quickly asked. "Where to?" + +"To stay a long while, had I accepted it; perhaps for life. In a +pecuniary point of view the change would have been an advantageous +one: it would have given me a position at once. But the climate is +shocking; so I declined." + +"Oh, I am glad?" she involuntarily said. "You should not run any of +those risks." + +"I did not hesitate on my own score. At least, I am not sure that I +should have hesitated, but I really did not think of myself at all in +the matter. I did not get so far. I should not like to have gone out +alone, Sara: and I felt that I had no right to expose another to these +chances; one whom I should then be bound to protect and cherish, so +far as man's protection goes, from all ill." + +He spoke in what may be called general words, in a general tone, but +it was impossible for Sara to misunderstand him. Every pulse within +her beat in answer, quietly as she continued to walk, calmly as her +eyes rested straight before her. She knew it was his intention not to +speak openly, until he could speak to some purpose: and she thought he +was right. + +"So I resolved to continue where I am, and plod on diligently," he +continued. "Advancement, though more slow, will be sure. Do you think +I did right?" + +"Quite right, quite right," she murmured. And, had they been speaking +without reserve to each other, she might have added, "Papa would not +like me to go abroad." + +A silence ensued. They paced together in that quiet spot away from the +busy crowd, the silvery moonlight above, the pure passion of love's +first dream filling their hearts within. No need of words: the +conscious presence of each was all in all. + +"Where can this train be?" exclaimed Oswald at length, breaking the +charm of the silence. + +Almost as the words left his lips one of the porters came hurriedly +up, touching his hat as he spoke. + +"There has been a mistake in the telegraph-room, sir. Leastways, some +bungle. The train _was_ telegraphed from Hildon." + +A moment's startled pause on the part of Oswald Cray. + +"It was told to me positively that the train had not left, Parker?" + +"I know, sir; we all understood it so. But James Eales is come back +now, and he says we misunderstood him; that the train was telegraphed +at the proper time. There's an accident, sir, for certain; and it's +between this and Hildon." + +"I think there must be a mistake," murmured Oswald Cray to Sara. "Stay +here quietly, away from the crowd." + +Giving no further satisfaction to her fears--indeed he could not give +it--he walked hastily to the small room used as the telegraph office. +The news which the porter had brought to him was spreading elsewhere, +and the entrance to it was blocked up with an eager throng. He began +to work his way through. + +"By your leave, by your leave, good people." And they drew aside so as +to give room for him to pass when they saw who it was. Mr. Oswald +Cray's right of authority, as being superior to that of any at the +station, was known and recognised. + +The telegraph clerk was a young man named James Eales. It was his duty +to receive the messages, and in due course he ought to have received +the one from Hildon, signifying that the expected train (called in +familiar terms at Hallingham the seven o'clock train, although it came +in five minutes sooner) had duly quitted Hildon. This message was due +somewhere about twenty-three minutes to seven, and it came this +evening as usual quite punctually. No sooner had it been received than +James Eales, who wanted to absent himself for a short while on an +errand to the town, asked one of the men to take his place. Other +messages might be expected relating to the trains, not to speak of +private messages, always liable to come; and the man took the place +accordingly. As Eales was going out, the man, whose name was Williams, +called after him to know whether the train was signalled. Eales +thought he meant the down-train, whose signal was nearly due, and +replied, "No, not yet." But in point of fact Williams had alluded to +the up-train from Hildon, which _had_ been signalled. That man was an +accurate time-keeper; it wanted two or three minutes yet to the +signalling of the down-train, and he would not have been likely, from +this very accuracy, to inquire whether that message had come, it not +being due. Eales, who did not possess the like innate accuracy, and +was besides in a hurry to depart, confused the question, and took it +to allude to the down-train. It is through these mistakes, which are +caused half by carelessness, half by what may be almost called +unavoidable misapprehension, that accidents occur. It did not lead to +the accident in this case, but it has led to many a one. Williams +ought to have said, "Is the _up_-train signalled!" Saying what he did +say, "Is the train signalled?" Eales should have answered, "The +up-train is signalled; not the down." + +Williams sat down to the desk or bureau, the telegraph indicator being +in front of him, above his head. Precisely to time the down telegraph +came, a confirmation it may almost be said of the mistake. Williams +noted it, and wondered what the up-train was about that its signal did +not likewise come. After seven o'clock came and passed, and the +up-train did not arrive, the station-master, who had been enjoying a +little recreative gossip on his own score, and not attending to his +duties quite as closely as he might have been, made his appearance in +the telegraph office. + +"Where's James Eales?" he demanded. + +Williams explained. He had stepped out on an errand, and he, Williams, +was taking his place. The station-master made no demur to this: +Williams was as capable as Eales, and often worked the telegraph. + +"Has the up-train been signalled from Hildon?" + +"No, sir." + +"Not been signalled!" echoed the station-master, in an accent of +disbelief. + +"It has not been signalled for certain," was the reply of Williams. +"Eales told me the signal had not come when he left, and I am sure it +has not come since." + +"Where can it be?" exclaimed the station-master. "I suppose some of +those monster excursion-trains are blocking up the line somewhere." + +A consolatory conclusion, quite doing away with uneasiness or fear. +The station-master promulgated the news that the train had not been +signalled from Hildon, together with his own suggestive idea of the +offending excursion-trains. He told Mr. Oswald Cray it had not been +signalled, and he told others: therefore the officials were perfectly +at their ease upon the point, whatever the assembled crowed might be. + +It was just five-and-twenty minutes past seven when Eales returned. He +had stayed longer than he intended, and he dashed into his office head +foremost, catching a glimpse of the crowd on the platform, now quickly +increasing. + +"What do they want, that lot?" he cried to Williams. "Is anything +wrong?" + +"They are waiting for the up-train. It's preciously behind time +tonight, and I suppose some of them are alarmed--have got friends in +it, maybe." + +"What up-train?" asked Eales. + +"The seven o'clock up-train to London." Eales stood confounded. "Why, +is that not come up? An accident must have happened." + +"Not obliged to," coolly returned Williams. "It's kept back by the +excursion-trains, most likely." + +"There are no excursion-trains today between this and Hildon," quickly +observed Eales. + +"It has not got so far yet. It has not passed Hildon." + +"It has passed Hildon," replied Eales. "It passed at its proper time, +and was signalled up." + +Williams turned and stared at Eales with all his might. "Who says it +has been signalled up?" + +"Who says it! Why, I say it. I got the signal as usual." + +"Then how came you to tell me you hadn't had it?" asked Williams. + +"I never told you so." + +"You did. You'll say black's white next. It was the only question I +asked you--whether the up-train had been signalled, and you replied it +had not been." + +"You said the down-train: you never said the up." + +"I meant the up. It's not likely I should ask whether the down-train +was signalled, when it wasn't near due! _You_ have done a pretty +thing!" + +How long they might have continued to dispute, one seeking to lay the +blame upon the other, it is impossible to say. But at that moment the +station-master came in again, and the mistake was made known to him +and to others. The train _had_ left Hildon at its proper time, and +therefore the delay, whatever might be its cause, lay very near to +them--in the six miles of rail intervening between Hallingham and +Hildon; the train must be on some spot of it. + +That an accident of some nature had taken place, the most sanguine +could now only believe, and a whole shower of verbal missives was +hurled upon the two men, Eales and Williams, who did nothing but +retort on each other. Each firmly regarded the other as being alone in +fault; an impartial judge would have said they were equally culpable. +Extricating himself from the confusion, Mr. Oswald Cray returned to +Sara. She looked at him with questioning eyes, her heart shrinking; +that hubbub in the station had reawakened her fears. He quietly placed +her hand within his arm, and began to pace as before. + +"I find things do not look quite so well as we fancied"---- + +"There has been an accident!" she interrupted. "Do not hide it from me, +Oswald." + +He lightly laid his other hand on hers, an assurance of his truth, "I +will hide nothing from you, my dearest," and the never-yet-used term +of endearment seemed to slip from him involuntarily, in the moment's +need that he should soothe her. "We have not heard that there is any +accident, for no tidings of any sort have come up; but the train, it +seems, did leave Hildon at its usual time, and something must +therefore have occurred to delay it." + +A deep, sobbing sigh nearly broke from her, but she coughed it down. + +"Do not meet trouble half-way," he said in a lighter tone. "It does +not follow that an accident, in the popular sense of the term, must +have occurred, because the train is not up. The engine may have broken +down and be unable to come on, but the passengers may be as safe and +well as we are. There's no doubt the engine is disabled, or it would +have come on for assistance." + +"Assistance for the wounded?" she quickly rejoined. + +"Assistance that may be wanted in anyway. The telegraph is at work to +stop all trains, and some of us are going down"---- + +It was the last collected word they were enabled to speak. The news +had spread in the town, and the affrighted people were coming up in +shoals. News, at the best, loses nothing in carrying, and the delay +was magnified into a dreadful accident, with half the train killed. In +the midst of it the guard of the missing train arrived, flying up the +line as if for his life, and carrying a lantern. + +The engine had run off the line on to the bank, and turned over. A few +of the passengers were injured, but he thought not many; some of them +were coming on, the field way. It had occurred about midway between +the two stations, a little nearer to Hallingham than to the other. An +engine was wanted to bring on the train, and it might be as well if a +doctor or two went down. + +This was the climax for the affrighted crowd, and those who had +relatives in the train seemed to well-nigh lose their senses. A scene +of inextricable confusion ensued. Some were restrained by force from +jumping on the line and setting off to the scene of accident; some +strove to get upon the carriage and engine about to start for it. +Order was restored with great difficulty, and the carriage and engine +rescued from the invaders, who then quitted the station, and set off +to run to the scene, through the same fields that, as the guard said, +passengers were advancing. + +Two medical men, who had been hastily obtained, Mr. Oswald Cray, and +sundry officials of the line, took their seats in the carriage to be +conveyed to the spot. The engine had given its first puff, and was +snorting off, when a loud shout arrested it. + +"Stop! stop! One single moment! Here's Dr. Davenal!" + +His name, for those poor wounded ones, was a tower of strength--worth +all the rest of the surgical skill in Hallingham--and he was pulled +into the carriage, having caught a glimpse of the white face of his +daughter outside the throng. Sara, terrified and bewildered, wondering +what she should do next, was suddenly pounced upon by Miss Davenal. + +"You naughty girl! What is it that you are doing here?" + +"O Aunt Bettina, there has been an accident to the train! Caroline and +Mr. Cray are sure to be in it." + +"Caroline and Mr. Cray are what?" cried out Miss Bettina. + +"I fear they are in the train. There has been an accident between here +and Hildon. An engine has just gone down with assistance." + +"I don't want to know about engines," returned Miss Davenal, who had +not understood one word in ten. "I ask what you do here alone? +Caroline and Mr. Cray can come home, I suppose, without your waiting +for them in this public manner. What would your papa say if he saw +you?" + +"Papa has seen me," replied Sara. "Papa has just come up to the +station and is gone down with the engine." + +"Gone down with what engine? What do you mean?" + +Sara put her lips close to Miss Davenal's ear. "Papa's gone down the +line with some more gentlemen, to see about the wounded." + +"Wounded!" shrieked Miss Bettina. "Has there been an accident? Who's +wounded? Caroline and Mr. Cray?" + +"We don't know yet, aunt." And in the best way that she could, Sara +strove to make the case comprehensible to her aunt. Miss Davenal +understood at last, and was somewhat mollified. + +"Sara, I am not very angry with you now. I might have stopped myself. +An accident to the train, and the doctors gone down! O those dreadful +railways!" + +A little longer of suspense, and then the passengers began to arrive. +After the shock and fright, it had seemed safer to many of them to +walk the three miles of distance than to trust to the rail again and +another engine. The path fields were dry, and it was a pleasant walk +by moonlight. Miss Bettina, whose eyes were as quick as her hearing +was dull, was the first to recognise Mrs. Cray amidst them. + +Caroline burst into tears as they laid hold of her, and Sara's heart +began to sink. But the tears were only the effect of the fright and +excitement she had gone through. She could give no clear account of +the accident or what it had brought forth. All she knew was that there +was great banging and bumping of the carriage she was in, but it was +not overturned. Two other carriages were; and the engine was lying on +its side with all its steam coming out of it. She scrambled up the +bank in her terror, as did most of the passengers, and came on with +them. + +"And Mark?" asked Sara, scarcely daring to put the question. + +"Mark! He stayed to look after the wounded," was her reply. "He said +he thought there was nobody seriously hurt. At any rate, there are no +lives lost." + +Sara's heart breathed a word of thankfulness. "Did you see Lady +Oswald?" she asked. "She went to Hildon this afternoon, and Mr. Oswald +Cray thought she must be in this train, returning." + +"I did not see her," replied Mrs. Cray. "Lady Oswald in the train! I +thought she never travelled by rail." + +"She did this afternoon. One of her carriage-horses is ill. How +thankful!--how thankful we must all be that it is no worse!" concluded +Sara Davenal. + +"Well, this is a fine ending to your wedding-jaunt!" exclaimed Miss +Bettina. "What about your luggage, Caroline? Is it safe?" + +"As if we gave a thought to our luggage, Aunt Bettina! When people's +lives are at stake they can't think of their luggage." + +"Nor care either, perhaps," sharply answered Miss Bettina, who, +for a wonder, had caught the words. "It may be lying soused in the +engine-water, for all you know!" + +"I daresay it is," equably returned Caroline. "It was in the van next +the engine." But the full report had to come up yet; and the excited +crowd stopped on. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +PAIN. + + +Clear and distinct lay the lines of rail in the cold moonlight. It was +a straight bit of line there, without curve or bend, rise or incline; +and why the engine should have gone off the rails remained to be +proved. It was lying on its side, the steam escaping as from a +fizzing, hissing furnace; the luggage-van was overturned, and its +contents were scattered; and two carriages were overturned also: a +second-class, which had been next the van, a first-class which had +followed it. + +But now, as good Providence willed it, in that second-class carriage +there had only been three passengers. The train was not a crowded one, +and people don't go close to the engine as a matter of taste. Of these +three passengers, two had thrown themselves flat on the floor of the +carriage between the seats, and escaped without injury; the other had +a broken arm and a bruised head, not of much moment. The first-class +carriage was more fully occupied, and several of the passengers, +though not fatally or even extensively, were seriously hurt; and of +the driver and stoker, the one had saved himself by leaping from his +engine, the other was flung to a distance, and lay there as he fell. + +Mark Cray, as you have heard, remained to tend the wounded. The first +face he distinguished in the moonlight, lying amidst the débris of the +overturned first-class carriage, was that of Lady Oswald: and so +completely astonished was he to see it, that he thought either his +eyes or the moon must be playing him false. He and Caroline had been +in a carriage almost at the back of the train, consequently he had not +seen her at the Hildon station: and he had believed that Lady Oswald, +of all persons, would have been the last to attempt railway +travelling, so much was she averse to rails and trains in general. +Groaning and moaning by her side was Parkins; and Mr. Cray could doubt +no longer. + +With assistance, the passengers were extricated and laid upon the +bank. Their injuries were unequal; some, after the first shock, could +walk and talk, some could do neither; while the first grumbled and +complained of their bruises and abrasions, the last lay still, except +for groaning. The only perfectly quiet one was Lady Oswald: she lay +with her pale face upturned to the moonlight, her eyes closed. It was +natural perhaps that Mark Cray should turn his first attention to her. +A gentleman, one of the passengers, asked if she was dead. + +"No," said Mark; "she has only fainted. Parkins, suppose you get up +and try if you can walk. I'm sure you can't be hurt if you are able to +make that noise. That engine appears not to be over steady. Take care +it does not raise itself again and come puffing off this way." + +Parkins, not detecting the _ruse_, started up with a shriek, and stood +rubbing herself all over. "I think I'm killed," she cried; "I don't +believe I have got a whole bone in me." + +"I'll see by-and-by," said Mr. Cray. "Meanwhile come and help your +lady. I want her bonnet and cap untied." + +Parkins limped to the spot stiffly with many groans, but wonderfully +well considering the belief she had just expressed. At the same moment +some one came up with water, procured from a pond in the field, and +the driver, who had just come to _his_ legs, brought a lamp. The lamp +was held to Lady Oswald's face, and some of the water poured into her +mouth. Between the two she opened her eyes. + +"What's the matter?" she asked. "Where am I!" + +"She's all right," whispered Mr. Cray, his warm tone proving that he +had not previously felt so assured of the fact. "Has anybody got a +drop of brandy?" he called out to the passengers, who yet stayed at +the scene. + +"Goodness me! where am I?" cried Lady Oswald, with a faint shriek. +"Parkins, is that you? What has happened? Didn't we get into the +railway carriage?" + +"But we are out of it now, my lady," cried Parkins, sobbing. "There +has been an awful upset, my lady, and I don't know anything more, +except that it's a mercy we are alive." + +"An upset!" repeated Lady Oswald, who appeared to have no recollection +whatever of the circumstances. "Is anybody hurt? Are you hurt, +Parkins?" + +"Every bone in me is broke, my lady, if I may judge by the feel of +'em. This comes of them sheds." + +"Be quiet, Parkins," said Mr. Cray, who had succeeded in finding a +wicker-cased bottle containing some brandy-and-water. "Help me to +raise your lady a little." + +Parkins contrived to give her help in spite of the damaged bones, but +the moment Lady Oswald was touched she shrieked out terribly. + +"Let me alone! let me alone! Is that Mark Cray? How kind you are to +come to see after me, Mr. Cray? Did you come from Hallingham?" + +"We were in the same train, Lady Oswald; I and Caroline. I am very +glad that it happened to be so." + +"To be sure; I begin to remember: you were to return tonight. I--I +feel very faint." + +Mark succeeded in getting her to drink some brandy-and-water, but she +positively refused to be touched, though she said she was in no pain. +He thought she was exhausted, the effect of the shock, and left her to +attend to other sufferers, who perhaps wanted his aid more than Lady +Oswald. + +Then, after awhile, the carriage came up, bringing the help from +Hallingham. Mark Cray saw Dr. Davenal with the greatest pleasure, and +he took him at once towards Lady Oswald. + +"Are many hurt?" inquired the doctor. + +"Astonishingly few," was the reply; "and the hurts are of a very minor +character, I fancy. A broken arm is about the worst." + +"And what of Lady Oswald?" + +"I don't think she's hurt at all: she's suffering from the shock. A +little exhausted; but that's natural." + +"To a woman of her age such a shock is no light thing, Mark. However, +we must do the best we can for everybody." + +"There has been enough groaning--if that's anything to judge by," said +Mark; "groaning and complaining too." + +"Glad to hear it," said the doctor. "When people can complain, the +damage is not very extensive." + +"Parkins, for one, keeps protesting that every bone's broken. But she +ran out of the way pretty quickly when I told her the engine might +start up again." + +The doctor smiled, and they came up to Lady Oswald. Oswald Cray had +found her out, and was sitting on the bank beside her. She spoke just +a word or two to him, but seemed, as Mr. Cray _had_ said, exhausted. +Oswald Cray rose to resign his place to Dr. Davenal, and he took his +brother aside. + +"Is she much hurt, Mark?" + +"O no," replied Mark. "It has shaken her, of course; but she has been +talking as fast as I can." + +He spoke with singular confidence. In the first place. Mark Cray was +naturally inclined to look on the bright side of things, to feel +confident himself in the absence of any palpable grounds for doing so; +in the second, he did not think it at all mattered what information on +the point was given to Oswald. + +Reassured upon the score of Lady Oswald, Oswald quitted Mark, and +went amidst the wounded. Proud man though he was accused of being, +though he _was_, never was there a tenderer heart, a softer hand, a +gentler voice for the sick and suffering, than his. All the patients +appeared to have been attended to in some degree; and they were in +good hands now. Oswald halted by the side of the poor stoker, a +swarthy honest-faced man, who was moaning out his pain. + +"What, is it you, Bigg?" he said, recognising the man. "I did not know +you were back on this part of the line again." + +"I on'y come on it yesterday, sir. It's just my luck." + +"Where are you hurt?" + +"I be scalded awful, sir. I never knew what pain was afore tonight. +All my lower limbs is"-- + +"Take care?" shouted Oswald to a stupid fellow who was running along +with a plank in his arms. "Can't you see there's a man lying here? +What are you about?" + +"About my work," was the rough reply, spoken in an insolent tone. It +was one of the men just brought down, a workman from Hallingham +station, and Oswald knew him well. + +"What is that, Wells?" he quietly asked. + +Wells looked round now, surprised at being addressed by name. He +pretty nearly dropped his load in consternation when he recognised Mr. +Oswald Cray. Full as his hands were, he managed to jerk his hat from +his head. + +"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, sir. I thought it was nothing but some +idler obstricting of me. One does get beset with idlers at these +times, asking one all sorts of questions. I shouldn't have answered +that way, sir, if I'd knowed it was you." + +"Go on with your work; there's no time to talk. And don't blunder +along again without looking where you are going." + +"One can't see well in the dark, sir." + +"It's not dark; it is as light as it need be. Quite light enough for +you to see your way. Do you call that bright moon nothing?" + +"He'd ha' been right over my legs, but for you, sir," murmured poor +Bigg, the great drops of pain standing out on his brow, black with his +occupation. "I don't know how I be to bear this agony. That cursed +engine"---- + +"Hush, Bigg," interrupted Mr. Oswald Cray. + +Bigg groaned his contrition. "Heaven forgive me! I know it ain't a +right word for me tonight." + +"Heaven will help you to bear the pain if you will only let it," said +Oswald. "There has been worse pain to bear than even yours, my poor +fellow; though I know how hard it is for you now to think so." + +"It may be my death-blow, sir. And what's to become o' my wife and +little uns? Who'll work for 'em?" + +"No, no, Bigg. I hope it is not so bad as that. I do not think it is." + +"If one might count by pain, sir"---- + +"Bigg, I can give you a little comfort on that score," interrupted +Oswald Cray. "A friend of mine was very dreadfully burnt, through his +bed-clothes catching fire. Awfully burnt: I don't like, even at this +distance of time, to think of it. The next day I heard of it, and went +to see him. I am not a very good one to witness physical pain, and I +remember how I dreaded to witness his, and the spectacle I did not +doubt he presented. He _was_ a spectacle, poor fellow--but let that +pass. To my great astonishment he saluted me heartily as I went in. +'Holloa, old friend!' were his words, not only cheerfully but merrily +spoken. I found that he did not suffer pain: had not felt any from the +moment he was burnt. In my ignorance, I set that down as a most +favourable symptom, and felt sure he would get well shortly. When I +was leaving him, I met the doctor going in, and said how glad I was to +find his patient so well. 'Well!' he exclaimed, 'why, what do you +judge by!' And I said--by his feeling no pain. 'That's just it,' the +doctor observed: 'if he only felt pain there might be a chance for +him. I wish I could hear him roar out with it.' Now, Bigg," Mr. Oswald +Cray added, "I am no surgeon, but I infer that the same theory must +hold good in scalds as in burns: that your pain is as favourable a +symptom as his want of it was unfavourable. Do not _rebel_ at your +pain again, my poor fellow; rather bear it like a man. Were I scalded +or burnt, I think I should be _thankful_ for the pain." + +"He was burnt worse, may be, nor me, that there gentleman," remarked +Bigg, who had listened with interest. + +"Ten times worse," replied Oswald. "Yes, I may say ten times worse," +he emphatically repeated. "Indeed, Bigg, I feel sure that yours is but +a very slight hurt, in comparison with what it might have been: and I +do not say this to you in the half-false light in which one speaks to +a child to soothe it, but as one truthful man would speak to another." + +"God bless you, sir. My heart was a-failing of me sadly. Did he die, +that there gentleman?" + +"He died at a week's end: but there had been no hope of him from the +first; and there were also certain attendant circumstances in his +case, apart from the injury, remarkably unfavourable. In a short +while, Bigg, you'll be on your legs again, as good man as ever. I'll +ask Dr. Davenal to come and have a look at you." + +The name of the far-famed surgeon carried assurance in itself, and +Bigg's face lighted up with eagerness. "Is Dr. Davenal here, sir?" + +"Yes. I'll go and look for him." + +"At the moment that Oswald spoke, Dr. Davenal had left Lady Oswald and +encountered Mr. Cray. The latter, whose spirits were rather exalted +that night, the effect probably of finding the injuries around him so +slight, when he had looked out for all the terrible calamities that +flesh is heir to, not to speak of death, stopped to speak to him of +Lady Oswald. And he spoke lightly. + +"Well? You don't find her hurt, doctor?" + +"I'll tell you more about it tomorrow, Mark." + +Dr. Davenal's tone was so very grave that Mark Cray stared. He +thought--Mark Cray almost thought that there was a shade of reproof in +it, meant for him. + +"I am sure she has no serious hurt," he exclaimed. + +"Well, Mark, I can say nothing positively yet. In the state she is, +and in this place, it is not easy to ascertain: but _I fear she has_." + +"My goodness!" cried Mark, conscious that he was but the veriest tyro +beside that man of skill, of unerring practice, Richard Davenal, and +feeling very little at the moment. "What is the hurt, sir?" he asked +in a loud tone. + +"Hold your tongue about it," said the doctor. "Time enough to proclaim +it abroad when the fact has been ascertained that there is one." + +Oswald Cray came up, having distinguished the doctor in the moonlight. + +"I wish you'd come and look at a poor fellow, Dr. Davenal, who wants a +word of cheering. A word of such from you, you know sends the spirits +up. You should have seen the man's face lighten when I said you were +here." + +"Who is it?" asked the doctor, turning off with alacrity. + +"Poor Bigg the fireman. You know him, I daresay. He is badly scalded +and bruised." + +"Oh, his hurts are nothing," slightingly spoke Mark Cray. "He seems +one of those groaners who cry out at a touch of pain." + +"Mark," said the doctor, stopping, "allow me to tender you a word of +advice--do not fall into that, by some, professed to be entertained +idea, that nobody can, or ought, to feel pain; or, if they feel it, +that they ought not to show it. It is unnatural, untruthful; and to my +mind, particularly unbecoming in a medical man. Pain to some natures +is all but an impossibility to bear; it is all that can be imagined of +agony; it is as if every moment of its endurance were that of death. +The nervous organisation is so sensitively delicate, that even a touch +of pain, as you express it, which most people would scarcely feel, +would certainly not cry out over, is to them the acutest suffering. As +a surgeon and anatomist you ought to know this." + +"He's only a fireman," returned Mark. "Nobody expects those rough +fellows to be sensitive to pain." + +"Let him be a fireman or a waterman, he will feel it as I describe, be +his frame thus sensitively organised," was the reply of Dr. Davenal, +spoken firmly, if not sternly. "What has a man's condition in life to +do with it? It won't change his physical nature. A duke, sleeping on a +bed of down, nurtured in refinement and luxury, may be so constituted +that pain will be a mere flea-bite to him; should he be destined to +endure the worst that's known to earth, he will, so to say, hardly +feel it: whereas this poor fireman, inured to hard usage, to labour +and privation, may be literally almost unable to bear it. For my own +part, when I have to witness this distressing sensibility to pain, +perhaps have to inflict it as a surgical necessity, I suffer half as +much as the patient does for I know what it is for him. Don't affect +to ridicule pain again, Mark." + +Mark Cray looked vexed, annoyed. But every syllable that had fallen +from Dr. Davenal's lips had found its echo in the heart of Oswald +Cray. If there was one quality he admired beyond all else, it was +sincere open truthfulness: and to Oswald's mind there was an +affectation, a want of sincerity, in the mocking expressions, the +shallow opinions, so much in fashion in the present day. There had +been a hollow carelessness in Mark's tone when he ridiculed the notion +of the poor stoker's possessing a sensitiveness to pain, just as if +the man had no _right_ to possess it. + +"Well, Bigg, and so you must get tossed in this upset!" began the +doctor cheerily. "Oh! you'll do well, by the look of your face; we +shall soon have you on the engine again. Let's get a sight of this +grand damage. Who has got a lantern?" + +It was a bad scald; a shocking scald; there was no question of it; and +there was much injury by bruises; but Dr. Davenal spoke the simple +truth when he assured the man that the hurts were not dangerous. + +"Keep up your heart, Bigg. In an hour's time you will be in the +Infirmary, properly attended to. You'll soon get over this." + +"I dun know as I can live through the pain, sir," was the wailing +answer. + +"Ay, it's bad. But when we have got the proper remedies on, you won't +feel it as you do now. Bigg, I once scalded my leg badly--at least +somebody did it for me--and I remember the pain to this day; so, my +poor fellow, I can tell what yours is." + +"Mr. Cray said, sir, I oughtn't to feel no pain from a hurt like this, +he did. It sounded hard like, for the pain is awful." + +"Mr. Cray knows you would be better if you tried not to feel the +pain--not to feel it so acutely. He is a doctor, you know, Bigg, and +sees worse hurts than yours every day of his life." + +"I'd like to ask you, sir, when I shall be well--if you can tell me. I +have got a wife and children, sir; and she's sick just now, and can't +work for 'em." + +"We'll get you up again in three weeks," said Dr. Davenal cheerily, as +he hastened away to another sufferer, groaning at a distance. + +The term seemed long to the man: almost to startle him: he was +thinking of his helpless wife and children. + +"Three weeks!" he repeated with a moan. "Three weeks, and nobody to +help 'em, and me laid down incapable!" + +"Think how much worse it might be, Bigg!" said Mr. Oswald Cray, +wishing to get the man to look at his misfortune in a more cheerful +spirit. "Suppose Dr. Davenal had said three months?" + +"Then, as good he'd said, sir, as I should never be up again." + +"Do you think so? I don't. It is a long while to be confined by +illness, three months, and to you it seems, no doubt, very long +indeed; but it is not so much out of a man's life. I knew one who was +ill for three years, and got up again. That would be worse, Bigg." + +"Ay, sir, it would be. I haven't got just my right thoughts tonight, +what with the pain that's racking me, and what with trouble about my +wife and little 'uns." + +"Don't _trouble_ about them, Bigg," was the considerate answer. "They +shall be taken care of until you can work for them again. If the +company don't do it, I will." + +A short while longer of confusion, of hasty clearance of the line, of +soothing medical aid,--such aid as could be given in that inconvenient +spot, where there was only the open bare ground for the sufferers to +lie on, the moonlit sky to cover them,--and the return to Hallingham +was organised. The injured were lifted into the carriages and placed +as well as circumstances permitted. Lady Oswald, who shrieked out much +when they raised her, was laid at full length on a pile of rugs +collected from the first-class compartments, and the engine started +with its load, and steamed gently onwards. + +It appeared afterwards that the accident had been caused by the +snapping of some part of the machinery of the engine. It was a very +unusual occurrence, and could neither have been foreseen nor +prevented. + +The expectant crowd had not dispersed when Hallingham was reached. +Nay, it had considerably increased. Even Miss Bettina Davenal retained +her post, and Sara and Caroline were with her. + +The invalid train--it might surely be called one in a double +sense--came slowly into the station. The platform had been cleared; +none were allowed upon it to obstruct the removal of the sufferers +from the train to the conveyances that waited, in which they would be +transported to their homes, or to the infirmary, as the case might be. +But, if the platform was denied them, the excited watchers made up for +the discourtesy by blocking up the road and doors outside--a motley +group, picturesque enough in the fine moonlight night. + +Dr. Davenal, Mr. Cray, and the other medical men were occupied in +superintending the removal of their patients, but Mr. Oswald Cray +found his way to Miss Davenal, and gave them the good news that the +injuries were comparatively slight. A train for London was on the +point of starting, and he was going by it. He contrived to obtain a +few words with Sara, and she went with him on to the platform. + +"I wish I could have remained over tomorrow," he observed to her. "I +should like to see and hear how all these poor people get on." + +"Are you sure you cannot remain?" + +"I am sure that I ought not. You have heard me speak of Frank Allister +Sara?" + +"Often. The young Scotchman who was with you at Bracknell and Street's +for so many years." + +"We were articled together. He has become very ill lately; and--and +the firm has not behaved quite well to him. I have no voice in that +part of its economy, or it should never have been." + +"What did they do?" inquired Sara. + +"He has not got on as I have. Still he held a tolerably fair post in +the house; but his health failed, and he had to absent himself. Mr. +Street found out how ill he was, came to the conclusion that he'd be +of no use to us again, and wrote him his dismissal. I thought it very +hard; and he--he"---- + +"Yes!" said Sara, eagerly interested. + +"He found it harder than he could bear. It put the finishing stroke to +his illness, and I don't think he will rally. He has no relatives +near, few friends; so I see him all I can, and I gave him a faithful +promise to spend tomorrow with him. Time's up, and the guard's +impatient, I see." + +"Does the guard know you are going?" + +"Yes. Don't you see him looking round for me? Fare you well, Sara. I +may be down again in a day or two." He had taken her hands for a +moment in both his as he stood before her. + +"I trust you will get safe to town?" she whispered. + +"Ay, indeed! This night has proved to us that safety lies not with +ourselves. God bless you, my dearest!" + +He crossed the platform and stepped into the carriage, which the guard +was holding open. The next moment the train was steaming out of the +station, Sara Davenal looking after it with a lingering look, a heart +at rest, as that sweet word of endearment rang its echoes on her ear. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +A WHIM OF LADY OSWALD'S. + + +The medical body, as a whole, is differently estimated by the world. +Some look down upon it, others look up to it; and their own position +in the scale of society has no bearing or bias on the views of the +estimators. It may be that a nobleman will bow to the worth and value +of the physician, will regard him as a benefactor of mankind, +exercising that calling of all others most important to the welfare of +humanity; while a man very far down in the world's social ladder will +despise the doctor wherever he sees him. + +It is possible that each has in a degree cause for this, so far as he +judges by his own experience. The one may have been brought in contact +with that perfect surgeon--and there are many such--whose peculiar +gifts for the calling were bestowed upon him by the Divine will; he +with the lion's heart and woman's hand, whose success, born of +patience, courage, judgment, experience, has become by God's blessing +an assured fact. Men who have brought all the grand discoveries of +earthly science to their aid and help in their study of the art; who +have watched Nature day by day, and mastered her intricacies; who +have, in fact, attained to that perfection in skill which induces the +involuntary remark to break from us--We shall never see his fellow! +Before such a man as this, as I look upon it, the world should bow. We +have no benefactor like unto him. The highest honours of the land +should be open to him; all that we can give of respect and admiration +should be his. + +But there is a reverse side to the picture. There is the man who has +gone into the profession without aptitude for it, who has made it his, +although positively incapable of properly learning it and exercising +it. He may have acquired the right to use all the empty distinguishing +letters attaching to it, and tack them after his name on all +convenient occasions, inscribe them in staring characters on his very +door-posts--M.D., M.R.C.S.--as many more as there may be to get; but, +for all that, he is not capable of exercising the art. His whole +career is one terrible mistake. He kills more patients than he cures; +slaying them, drenching them to death, with that most pitiful and +fatal of all weapons--ignorance. It may not be his fault, in one +sense: he does his best: but he has embraced a calling for which +nature did not fit him. He goes on in his career, it is true, and his +poor patients suffer. More ignorant, of necessity, than he is--for in +all that relates to the healing art, we are, take us as a whole, +lamentably deficient--they can only blindly resign themselves to his +hands, and when they find that there's no restored health for them, +that they get worse rather than better, they blame the obstinacy of +the malady, not the treatment. Upon his own mind, meanwhile, there +rests an ever-perpetual sense of failure, irritating his temper, +rendering his treatment experimental and uncertain. Some cannot see +where the fault lies--have no conception that it is in their own +incapacity. And if a man does see it, what then? He must go on and do +his best; he must be a doctor always; it is his only means of living, +and he is too old to take to another trade. Rely upon it there are +more of these practitioners than the world suspects. + +Such a man as the first was Dr. Davenal; such a man as the last was +Mark Cray. But that Mark was so Dr. Davenal suspected not. Grave cases +hitherto, during their short connection, had been treated by the +doctor, and for ordinary ailments Mark did well enough. He could write +a proper prescription when the liver was out of order, or bring a +child through the measles; he could treat old ladies with fanciful +ailments to the very acme of perfection. It is true Dr. Davenal had +been once or twice rather surprised by downright wrong treatment on +the part of Mark, but he had attributed it to inexperience. + +When other doctors could not cure, people flew to Dr. Davenal; when +there was a critical operation to be performed, involving life or +death, Dr. Davenal was prayed to undertake it. His practice +consequently was of wide extent; it was not confined to Hallingham and +its vicinity, but extended occasionally to the confines of the county. +It was not, therefore, surprising that on the morning following the +accident Dr. Davenal found himself called out at an early hour to the +country on a case of dangerous emergency. And the illness was at +Thorndyke. + +He responded at once to the call. Never a prompter man than Richard +Davenal. Roger had learnt by example to be prompt also, and was ready +with his carriage as soon as his master. The arrangements with regard +to saving time were well organised at Dr. Davenal's. The bell, +communicating from the house down the side-wall of the garden to the +man's rooms near the stables was made the means of conveying different +orders. If rung once, Roger was wanted indoors to receive his orders +by word of mouth; if rung twice--and on those occasions they were +always sharp, imperative peals--Roger knew that the carriage was +wanted at once, with all the speed that he could get it round. + +The calm peaceful quiet of the Sabbath morn was lying on the streets +of Hallingham as the doctor was driven through them. The shops were +all shut; some of the private houses were not yet opened--servants are +apt to lie late on Sunday morning. As they passed the town-hall and +the market-place, so void of life then, the church clocks struck +eight, and the customary bells, giving token of the future services of +the day, broke forth in the clear air. + +"Stop at the Abbey, Roger," said the doctor, as they neared it. + +The woman, Dorcas, was just opening the parlour shutters. She came to +the door when she saw the carriage drawing up to it. + +"I want to see your master, Dorcas. I suppose he's up." + +"He is up and out, sir," was her reply. "He has been gone about five +minutes." + +This answer caused the doctor to pause. It should be explained that +when the train of sufferers arrived at the station the previous night, +Lady Oswald had elected to be accompanied to her home by Mark Cray, +not by Dr. Davenal. Whether she was actuated by pure caprice; whether +by a better motive--the belief that she was not hurt so much as some +other of the sufferers, and that Dr. Davenal's skill would be more +needed by them; or whether the recent sudden liking she had taken for +Mr. Cray swayed her then, could not be told; never would be told. She +seemed to be a little revived at the end of the journey, and she chose +that Mark Cray should go home with her. Dr. Davenal had acquiesced, +but he whispered a parting word to Mark. "If there is an injury, I +suspect it will be found in the ribs, Mark. Look well to it. If you +want me, I'm going on to the Infirmary, and shall be at home +afterwards." + +But, as it appeared, the doctor had not been wanted. At any rate, Mark +Cray had not sent for him. And he had stopped now to hear, if he +could, Mark's report. + +An upper window opened, and Mrs. Cray, completely enveloped in a thick +shawl, so that nothing could be seen of her but the tip of her nose, +leaned out. + +"Good-morning, Uncle Richard." + +"Good-morning, my dear. I am glad to see you again. Can you come down +for a minute?" + +"No, I have not begun to dress. Did you want Mark? He has gone to Lady +Oswald's." + +"Ah, that's what I wish to ask about. Did you hear Mark say how she +was?--whether there was any hurt?" + +"He said there was not. But, for one thing, she kept fainting, and +refused to be touched. At least, I think he said so, something of +that; I was very sleepy when he got home; it was one o'clock. I am +sure he said she was not hurt to speak of." + +"That's all right then," said Dr. Davenal. + +"You are out betimes, Uncle Richard," resumed Caroline. "Are you going +far?" + +"To Thorndyke. Tell your husband he must see my patients this morning; +I shall not be back in time. Drive on, Roger." + +"Very well," said Caroline. "Who's ill at Thorndyke?" + +But Dr. Davenal's answer, if he gave one, was lost in the distance, +and never reached Caroline's ear. + +It was a singular coincidence--as was said by gossips afterwards--that +one should be taken ill that day at Thorndyke and be in danger of +death. It was not, however, one of the Oswald family, but a visitor of +Sir Philip's, and it has nothing whatever to do with the story It need +not have been mentioned, save to explain what took Dr. Davenal from +Hallingham on that critical day. + +Dr. Davenal found the patient alarmingly ill, in great need of medical +help, and he had to remain at Thorndyke some hours. It was between two +and three o'clock when he got back to Hallingham, and he ordered Roger +to drive at once to the Infirmary. + +The doctor went in and saw his patients. The poor man, Bigg, easier +now than he had been the previous night, lay in a slumber: the rest +were going on well. One woman had gone. An inmate of the wards for +some weeks past, her case, a very painful one, had baffled all skill, +all remedy; and she had gone to that better place where sickness and +pain cannot enter. Dr. Davenal stood for some little time conversing +with the house-surgeon, and then departed on foot to his home: he had +dismissed his carriage when he entered the Infirmary. + +As he was walking, he met an eager little fellow scuffling along, one +who always walked very fast, with his head pushed out, as if he were +in a desperate hurry. It was one of the Infirmary pupils, as they were +called; young men gathering skill and experience to become in time +surgeons themselves, who attended the Infirmary with their masters. +This one, Julius Wild, a youth of eighteen, was more particularly +attached to the service of Mr. Cray, went round the wards with him as +his dresser, and suchlike. No sooner did he see Dr. Davenal than his +pace increased to a run, and he came up breathless. + +"Oh, if you please, sir, Mr. Cray has been looking for you +everywhere"---- + +"I have been to Thorndyke," interrupted the doctor. + +"Yes, sir, but he thought you must have come back, and he sent me to +about twenty places to inquire. There's something wrong with Lady +Oswald, sir, and he wants to see you about it." + +"What is it that's wrong?" + +"Mr. Cray didn't explain to me, sir; but he said something about an +operation. She's hurt internally, sir, I think." + +"Where is Mr. Cray? Do you know?" + +"He is gone to your house, sir. Somebody told him, they saw your +carriage going along, and Mr. Cray thought you might be at home. +He"---- + +Dr. Davenal waited to hear no more. He made the best of his way +towards home, but before he reached it he met Mark Cray. + +There in the street, particulars were explained by Mr. Cray to Dr. +Davenal, not altogether to the doctor's satisfaction. It appeared that +Mark--very carelessly, but he excused himself on the plea of Lady +Oswald's fractious refusal to be touched--had omitted to make a proper +examination of her state on the previous night. The delay, though not +fatal, was inexpedient, rendering the operation which must now be +performed one of more difficulty than if it had been done at once; and +Dr. Davenal spoke a few sharp words, the only sharp ones he had ever +in his life spoken to Mark Cray. + +"I told you it was my opinion there was some internal injury. You +ought to have ascertained." + +He turned his steps and proceeded at once and alone to the house of +Lady Oswald. She was in a grievous state of suffering; and that she +had not appeared so on the previous night could only be attributed to +partial insensibility. Dr. Davenal examined into her hurts with his +practised skill, his gentle fingers, and he imparted to her as +soothingly as possible the fact that an operation was indispensable. +"Not a very grave one," he said with a smile, intended to reassure. +"Nothing formidable, like the taking off of an arm or a leg." + +But Lady Oswald refused her consent; as fractiously and positively as +she had the previous night refused to be touched. She would have no +operation performed on her, she said, putting her to torture; they +must cure her without it. Some time was lost in this unsatisfactory +manner, and Mark Cray arrived while the contention was going on. Dr. +Davenal was at length obliged to tell her a hard truth--that unless +she submitted to it, her life must fall a sacrifice. + +Then there came another phase of the obstinacy. When people are lying +in the critical state that was Lady Oswald, hovering between life and +death, it is surely unseemly to indulge in whims, in moods of childish +caprice. If ever there is a time in the career of life that truth +should reign preeminent, it is then: and these wilful caprices are +born of a phase of feeling that surely cannot be called truth. Lady +Oswald consented to the operation, but only on the condition that Mark +Cray should perform it. What foolish caprice may have prompted this it +is impossible to say. Mark had been talking to her, very much as he +would talk to a child to induce it to have a tooth drawn or a cut +finger dressed: protesting that it "would not hurt her to speak of," +that it "would be over, so to say, in no time." Dr. Davenal, more +honest, held his tongue upon those points: it would not be over in "no +time," and he knew that it would hurt her very much indeed. This it +may have been that caused the wretched whim to arise, that Mark Cray +should be the acting surgeon. And she held to it. + +It was necessary that she should be allowed some repose after the +state of excitement to which she had put herself, and half-past five +was the hour named. Dr. Davenal and Mark appointed to be with her +then. + +"Mark," asked the doctor, as they walked away together, "are you sure +of yourself?" + +Dr. Davenal had had no experience hitherto of Mark Cray's skill as a +surgeon, except in common cases. All critical operations, both at the +Infirmary and in private practice, the doctor took himself. Mark +looked at the doctor in surprise as he heard the question. + +"Sure! Why, of course I am. It's quite a simple thing, this." + +"Simple enough where the hand is experienced and sure," remarked the +doctor. "Not so simple where it is not." + +"Of course I have not had your experience, Dr. Davenal; but I have had +quite sufficient to ensure my accomplishing this, perhaps as skilfully +as you could." + +Mark spoke in a resentful tone; he did not like the reflection that he +thought was cast upon him by the question. Dr. Davenal said no more. +He supposed Mark _was_ sure of his hand's skill. + +"I shall give her chloroform," resumed Mark. + +"No!" burst forth Dr. Davenal. He could not have interrupted more +impetuously had he been interposing to dash it from her lips. He +believed that Lady Oswald would be a very unfit subject for +chloroform; one of those few to whom it is not safe to administer it; +and he explained this to Mark Cray. + +Mark turned restive. Strange to say, he, who had hitherto been content +to follow in the medical steps of Dr. Davenal, watching his treatment, +pursuing the same, more as a pupil takes lessons of a master than as a +man in practice for himself, seemed inclined to turn restive now. Did +Mark Cray, because he had married the doctor's niece, had become +connected with him by private ties, was now a more equal partner, +fully recognised--did he deem it well to exercise that right of +independence which we all love, for it is inherent in the hearts of +the best of us, and to stand up for his own ways and his own will? + +"I like chloroform," he said. "I consider it one of the most blessed +inventions of the age." + +"Undoubtedly; where it can be safely used." + +"I have used it fifty times," rejoined Mark. + +"I have used it fifty and fifty to that," said the doctor, +good-humouredly. "But, Mark, I never used it in my life upon a +doubtful subject, and I never will use it upon one." + +"What do you call a doubtful subject?" + +"What do I call a doubtful subject?" repeated the doctor. "You know as +well as I. How many patients has chloroform killed? Upon certain +natures"---- + +"Very few," interrupted Mark. + +"Very few, as compared to the whole," acquiesced the doctor. "You may +administer chloroform with perfect safety to ninety-nine patients, and +you cannot to the hundredth. Upon certain natures, as I was about to +observe, its effects may be fatal. And where there is this doubt, +Mark, it should be acted upon." + +"The cases are so rare." + +"True. And the important thing for a medical man, in these cases, is +to discern where chloroform may be given with safety and where it may +not." + +"It is impossible that he can do that with any certainty." + +"Not at all," said Dr. Davenal. "I never knew my judgment fail. I +believe it is a gift, this ability to distinguish the subtle +difference in natures. Perhaps I may call it instinct, more than +judgment, for I think it could not deceive or lead me to an erroneous +decision." + +"I am not sure that I understand you," said Mr. Cray. "My belief is, +that I possess nothing of the sort. I think you must be talking of a +species of second sight." + +"Then, Mark," was the half-joking answer, "allow yourself to be guided +by my 'second sight.' To speak seriously," the doctor continued, in a +graver tone, "I know that there are many practitioners, clever men, +who do not possess this peculiar insight into nature. It is a great +gift for those who do. It can never be acquired by practice; it must +be inherent"---- + +"I suppose you think I don't possess it," interrupted Mark. + +"I don't think you do. But for one of us who possesses it, numbers +don't; so it is no disparagement to you to say so. To return to the +question: Lady Oswald, in my opinion, would prove an unsafe subject +for chloroform." + +"She will make so much of the pain." + +"Better that she should make much of it--ay, and feel it--than that +any risk should be run. I cannot allow chloroform to be given to Lady +Oswald." + +Mark Cray demurred: not outwardly, for he said not another word; but +inwardly. He was of that class of men who disbelieve what they cannot +see. Some of us will look into a man's face and read his character, +read him for what he is, as surely and unerringly as we read the pages +of a book; but others of us, who do not possess this gift, cannot +believe that it exists, laugh at and ridicule the very idea of it. +Just so was it with Mark Cray. That assertion of Dr. Davenal's, that +some faculty or instinct within him enabled him to discern where +chloroform might and might not be administered, was utterly scouted +by Mark Cray. That subtle instinct into nature, that unerring, +rapidly-formed judgment of a sick man's state, the mental grasping +instantaneously of the disease and its remedy, Mark Cray possessed +not. To the very end of his life he would never learn it. Dr. Davenal +said that out of numbers of medical men only one would possess it, and +he was right. How many do not possess it, and go on to their career's +end unconscious of their deficiency, they themselves will never know. +Mark could see no reason why Lady Oswald should not be eased of her +pain by the aid of chloroform; he did not for a moment believe the +doctor could; he regarded it as a crotchet, and a very foolish one. +But he suffered the question to rest, and supposed he must bow to the +decision of his senior partner. + +"Shall I call for you, Mark?" asked the doctor, as they separated. "I +shall go up in the carriage." + +"O no, thank you. I'd as soon walk. You intend to be present?" + +"Or course I shall be," replied the doctor. "Lady Oswald is my +patient, in point of fact--not yours, Mark." + +"Then I need not ask Berry. I thought of asking him to be present." + +"You can do just as you please about that. If you like him to look on +at you, you can have him. Twenty-five minutes after five, remember, +punctual. You'll want the full daylight." + +As they parted, a feeling was in Mark's heart that he would not have +liked to confess to the other, and that perhaps he neither cared to +encourage nor to dwell upon. He felt perfectly sure of his own +skill; he was not nervous; nobody less so; and yet there was a +half-reluctance in his mind to perform that operation in the presence +of Dr. Davenal, the skilled and accomplished operator. Surely the +reluctance could only spring from a latent doubt of whether he ought +to make so sure of himself! A _latent_ doubt; one not suffered to +appear down far in the depths of his heart it lay--so deep that +perhaps Mark thought it was not there at all, that it was only fancy. + +He had a great deal rather have had Berry with him--_that_ he +acknowledged openly enough to himself. Surgeon Berry was a man of fair +average skill, superior to Mark in experience, and he and Mark were +great friends. Did Mark fear that the presence of the more finished +and perfect surgeon, with his critical eye, his practised judgment, +would render him nervous--as a candidate for the Civil Service +examinations will break down, simply because those searching eyes are +on him? No, Mark Cray feared nothing of the sort; and he could not +have told, had he been pressed, why he would have preferred the +absence of Dr. Davenal. He had looked on many a time at the doctor in +such cases: but that was a different thing. + +His thoughts were interrupted by Julius Wild. The young man accosted +him to inquire if there were any orders--whether he should be wanted. + +"Yes," said Mr. Cray. "Lady Oswald's case is fixed for this afternoon. +You be up there with the dressings and things." + +"Very well, sir," replied the young man, feeling some surprise; for he +was not in the habit of attending privately with Dr. Davenal "Am I to +go to Dr. Davenal's for them?" + +"No. You can get them from the Infirmary." + +"The Infirmary!" thought Julius Wild to himself. "Can _he_ be going to +take the operation?"--for Mr. Cray's surgical apparatus was kept at +the Infirmary. He did not ask: his professional master seemed +unusually silent--not to say cross. + +"What time?" he inquired of Mr. Cray. + +"Be at Lady Oswald's a little before half-past----" + +The blank above is put intentionally, for it cannot be told with +certainty what hour was really said by Mr. Cray. In the discussions +upon it that ensued afterwards, Julius Wild declared in the most +positive manner that it was _six_. "A little before half-past six." +Mr. Cray asserted, with equal pertinacity, that he had said five. "A +little before half-past five." Which of the two was right it was +impossible to ascertain. Mark Cray said he should not be likely to +make the mistake: the time, half-past five, had been just fixed +upon with Dr. Davenal, had been repeated by word of mouth, and he +had never thought of the hour six at all. There was plausible reason +in that, certainly. On the other hand, Julius Wild was known for a +clear-headed, steady, accurate young man, and he protested he could +stake his life upon his correctness in this instance. He said the +thought crossed his mind, when Mr. Cray named it, that half-past six +would be the dusk hour; and he rather wondered within himself that it +should have been chosen. + +However it may have been, the misapprehension did occur between them. + +When Dr. Davenal entered his own home, dinner had been over some time. +It was their custom to dine early on Sunday: and the general rule was, +by Dr. Davenal's wish, never to keep meals waiting for him. Neal +admitted him, and then came for orders. Should he bring up the dinner? + +"Not the dinner," said Dr. Davenal; "just a bit of something upon a +plate. I am not hungry: I had a late breakfast at Thorndyke. Has +anybody been here for me?" + +"No, sir. I think Mr. Cray took your patients. He has been here"---- + +"I know all about that," interrupted the doctor. + +He passed Neal, and went on to the garden-parlour, a favourite room of +his daughter's. She was there alone, seated before the open glass +doors. How peaceful it all looked! The green lawn stretching out in +front, the bright hues of the autumn flowers, the calm purity of the +dark blue sky lying in the stillness of the Day of Rest. Sara Davenal +had that good Book upon her lap: but she was not then reading it. She +had closed it in deep thought. Her sweet face was turned upwards, her +eyes were filled with tears from the intensity of her gaze; it seemed +that she was looking for something in the autumn sky. The extreme +calm, the aspect of peace, struck forcibly on the senses of Dr. +Davenal, and he remembered it in the days to come. It was the last day +of peace for him; it was the last day of peace for Sara; henceforth +the world was to change for both of them. Ere the morrow's sun should +rise, a great care, a great trouble, would be tugging at their +heartstrings; a skeleton would be there to keep; a secret, that must +be hidden for very safety's sake, would have taken up its abode there. + +Dr. Davenal was upon her so quickly that she could not conceal her +glistening eyes. She started up to welcome him, and laid down the +book. Owing to that most attentive habit of Neal's, of being on the +watch and opening the door before people could get to it, she had not +heard him come home. + +"O papa, is it you? You have been away a long while." + +"Sit down," he said, pressing her into her chair again. "What's the +grief, Sara?" + +"No grief, papa. I was only thinking." + +"What about? The accident last night?" + +"O no, not that. I hear that everybody's going on quite well. I was +thinking--I was wondering--somehow I often get thinking on these +things on a Sunday, when I am sitting alone, and the sky seems so calm +and near," she broke off. + +"Well, what were you thinking?" + +"I was wondering whether they who are gone can look down and see +us--see me just as I sit here looking up--whether they can read my +thoughts. We seem so divided, papa; you and I and Edward left; mamma +and Richard, and the two little ones who were between me and Edward, +gone." + +"Divided for a short while only, child." + +"Yes, I know. The only one I can remember well is Richard. I am +beginning to lose almost all recollection of mamma. But Richard--papa, +at times I seem to see him before me now!" + +Dr. Davenal turned to the window and stood with his back to Sara, +looking out. She repented having spoken of her brother; somehow the +words had slipped out in the fulness of her thoughts. Rising, she +stole her hand into Dr. Davenal's. + +"I forgot, papa," she softly whispered. + +"Forgot what, my child?" he asked. "Nay, it might be just as well if +we all spoke more of Richard, instead of shunning his name. Silence +will not bring him back to us." + +"Ah no, it will not!" + +"And when once griefs can be talked of, their sting becomes less +poignant. Did the post bring any letters this morning?" the doctor +added, after a pause. + +"Not for you, papa. There was one--how could I forget to tell +you?--there was one for me from Edward." + +"And what does he say?" + +"He has not been able to get leave yet. At least, from the tenor of +his letter, I don't much think he has asked for it. He says there's a +great deal to do; that the preparations are going on very quickly; but +no orders have been received yet as to the day for embarking. As soon +as they are issued he will let us know." + +"But he means to come down?" + +"O yes. He will be sure to come, he says, though it should be to +arrive by one train and return by the next. He writes in great +spirits, and asks me--in a joke you know, papa--if I will pack up my +boxes and go out with him." + +"He---- What is it, Neal! My dinner?" + +"Yes, sir. It is served." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +MARK CRAY'S MISTAKE. + + +Evening came, and Lady Oswald's house was prepared for what was going +to take place. Dr. Davenal arrived rather before the time appointed, +Mr. Cray five minutes after it. Mr. Cray was in a heat, and had +evidently come at much speed, conscious probably that the time had +expired. Lady Oswald was in her bedchamber when Mr. Cray came up, Dr. +Davenal in the ante-chamber. + +"Where's Wild?" exclaimed Mr. Cray, throwing his eyes round the room. + +"I have not seen him," replied the doctor. + +"It is very inattentive of him not to be here. I told him the hour. +Have you seen her?" added Mr. Cray, in a whisper. + +"Yes. She is all right. Are you ready?" + +"No, I am not ready," replied Mr. Cray. "Wild is bringing up the +dressings." + +"I have everything with me," said Dr. Davenal "I have brought all." + +In the room with Lady Oswald was her maid Parkins. And the very moment +that Dr. Davenal set his eyes on Parkins's ashy pale face, he knew +that she would be better out of the room than in it. He said something +to the effect, but Lady Oswald evidently wished for her, and Parkins +avowed her intention of being as brave as need be. + +Time was being wasted. Marcus Cray, in a fidgety sort of manner, went +down twice after his expected pupil. He opened the hall-door and stood +there looking out for him; and he did this twice over, for no sooner +did he get upstairs the first time than he went back again. Dr. +Davenal could not exactly make him out. Mr. Wild was not required in +anyway; and a half-doubt stole over Dr. Davenal whether Mark Cray +could be wilfully prolonging the minutes, as people will put off +things they do not care to enter upon, from nervousness, dislike, or +other causes. And though he threw the doubt from him as an absurd +improbability, he began to wish again to be the operator. + +"Cray, I had better take this." + +Mark fired up, and spoke out at the top of his voice. He would prefer +to take it himself, Dr. Davenal permitting him. + +Spoke out so loud that he was heard by Lady Oswald. She interrupted +the discussion--if discussion it might be called--and settled it. "It +should be only done by Mr. Cray." + +"Very well," said Dr. Davenal in a low tone to his partner. "Be it so. +But why do you wait, Mark?" + +"I want that fellow to be here." + +"He is not required. We shall have Lady Oswald get exhausted." + +And Mark Cray, seeing the wisdom of the plea, made no further delay. + +You will not wish to be present at this operation, or to have it +details transcribed. Hallingham did not know them for many a long day. +But one or two things must be mentioned. + +At the very instant of its commencement, when Mark Cray was bending +over Lady Oswald, there came something falling forward to the ground +and brushed against him. It was brave Parkins, gone down in a +fainting-fit Lady Oswald became agitated; she shrieked out, and would +have risen had it been in her power. Dr. Davenal moved round, and bore +the senseless Parkins from the room. + +He could not throw her down outside like a log. He had to call some of +the household and tell them what to do with her. Then she began to +start and kick in incipient convulsions: altogether it was three or +four minutes before Dr. Davenal got back to the room. It seemed to be +delay after delay, as if the operation was fated not to be begun that +day. + +The operation however, was begun, he found. When he got back, Mark had +plunged into it. Dr. Davenal stepped up to him, and stood overlooking +him with his unerring eye; that eye which Mark had dreaded. + +Was it in consequence of that, that Mark Cray lost--what shall we call +it?--his presence of mind?--his surgical skill? A suppressed sound, +half indignation, half dismay, escaped the lips of Dr. Davenal, and he +pushed Mark aside with an authoritative hand and took his place. What +could have taken Mark?--what ailed him? Lady Oswald was offering no +opposition, for she lay perfectly still. + +So still, so voiceless, that in the midst of his work it struck +strangely on the senses of Dr. Davenal. He paused a moment to regard +her attentively, and then glanced at Mark, one single word only +escaping him. + +"Chloroform?" + +"Yes," said Mark. "I judged it best." + +It was all that passed. Whatever Dr. Davenal may have felt, he could +express neither doubt nor remonstrance then. His whole attention had +to be concentrated on the work he was performing. Mark stood by and +watched, saying nothing. + +At length it was over; admirably performed, as all operations were +performed, undertaken by Dr. Davenal. But Lady Oswald still lay +without sense or motion; and they could not arouse her. + +"You must have given her a great deal," observed Dr. Davenal, who was +still occupied. + +Which Mark Cray did not attempt to deny. "She required it. The fall of +that stupid woman excited her terribly. The first lot made no +impression on her: she did not seem to inhale it." + +"But--good heavens? you could not have waited long enough to see. Mark +Cray, this is a mistake, and an awful one." + +Mark made no reply. Mark was doing all in his power to undo his work +and arouse Lady Oswald. But he could not. Dr. Davenal touched his +shoulder, and spoke upon a different subject. + +"You told me you were sure of yourself." + +Mark scarcely knew what he answered. Something to the effect that he +always had been sure, until now: but his words were very indistinct. + +"What incapacity came over you? What was its cause?" + +It was impossible for Mark Cray to deny that incapacity had attacked +him; that Lady Oswald under his hands would have been in the greatest +danger. Its cause he could not account for: but that common +expression, "losing all presence of mind," would best describe it as +it really was, and as it had appeared to Dr. Davenal. The drops of +sweat stood out on his brow now as large as peas. + +"The woman's fall startled me," he attempted to say. "At such a moment +it takes but little to unnerve a man." + +"Then, if so, he is not fit for a surgeon," returned Dr. Davenal. +"Mark Cray," he continued, gravely and firmly, but not unkindly, "you +must never in my presence attempt a critical operation again. +Recollect that." + +Meanwhile their whole attention was being given to Lady Oswald; their +best efforts exerted to arouse her from the effects of the chloroform. +All in vain, all useless; it had done its work too effectually. + +By degrees the horror of the conviction that she could not be +aroused--never more would be aroused--came pressing upon them +deeper and deeper. Mark Cray wiped his hot face, and felt that he +would give all he was worth to recall that one act of his--the +surreptitiously conveying the chloroform to the house, which he +had himself so successfully accomplished, and regarded as a cause of +self-congratulation. Why had he not attended to the experienced +opinion of Dr. Davenal--that Lady Oswald was one of those upon whom +chloroform was not unlikely to be fatal? That it would be fatal in +this case, Mark felt as certain _now_ as if the breath had actually +passed for ever from her body. A horrible fear came over him, and he +once more lost all calmness, all self-possession. + +"Dr. Davenal, for the love of God, do not betray me! Do not let it go +forth to the world as my wilful act--one you warned me against. It was +a dreadful mistake. I shall carry it about with me in my heart for +ever; but do not betray me to the world!" + +He had seized the doctor's hands, and was pressing them nervously in +his. His troubled face gazed imploringly upwards; his wailing tone of +repentance struck sadly on the ear. Dr. Davenal did not immediately +speak, and Mark Cray resumed. + +"For Caroline's sake," he entreated. "If this mistake becomes known in +all its unhappy details, my professional doom is sealed. Never again, +so long as I live, as you and I are together, will I attempt to act on +my opinion in opposition to yours. Be merciful to us, Dr. Davenal, +and, for her and my sake, conceal it from the condemning world!" + +And Dr. Davenal yielded. Ever merciful, ever striving to act in +accordance with those great precepts of love and mercy which One came +down eighteen hundred years ago to teach, he yielded to the prayer of +the unhappy and agitated man before him. His own partner--Caroline's +husband; no, he could not, would not, bring upon him the obloquy of +the world. + +"I will keep the secret, Mark Cray. Be easy. You have my promise." + +The unhappy tidings were made known to the household--that their +mistress could not yet be aroused from the effect of the chloroform +which had been administered with a view of saving her pain; and they +came flocking in. She was not dead; but she was lying still and +motionless: and the means for recalling life went on. Mark Cray +continued his efforts when all hope was gone, trying every means, +probable and improbable, in his madness. Had a battery been at hand he +would have essayed galvanism. + +Alas! they might as well have sought to arouse a stone statue. Never +more would there be any arousing for poor Lady Oswald in this world. +Death was claiming her: uncompromising, not-to-be-denied death! + +Parkins, considerably recovered from her own attack, but in a shaky +and tearful state, had come into the room with the rest. Parkins +seemed inclined to rebel at the state of things; to question +everybody, to cast blame somewhere. + +"Why should chloroform have been given to her!" she asked of Mr. Cray. + +"It was given with a view to deaden the pain," was Mark's short +answer. + +"But, sir, the operation was all but begun, if not begun, when I--when +I---fainted: and there had been no question then of giving her +chloroform." + +"No, and it was your fainting that did three parts of the mischief," +savagely returned Mr. Cray, who felt it the greatest relief to be able +to lay the blame upon somebody. "It put her into a most undesirable +state of agitation. I should think you must have heard her shriek, in +spite of your fainting-fit." + +The words, the angry tone, completely did for Parkins, and she +subsided into tears again. A few minutes, and Dr. Davenal turned from +the ill-fated lady to her servants standing there. + +"It is all over. She is gone." + +And the doctor looked at his watch, and found that only one poor hour +had elapsed since he had entered the house to perform that operation +which had altogether terminated so fatally. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +NEAL'S DISMAY. + + +Dr. Davenal and Mr. Cray went forth together. Outside the hall-door +stood Julius Wild. It now wanted twenty minutes to seven. The +Infirmary pupil had arrived a quarter of an hour before, and had +waited patiently ever since to be let in. He had rung the bell in +vain. In the confusion and distress of the house, it had, perhaps, not +been heard, certainly had not been attended to. His rings had been but +gentle ones: Julius Wild knew better than to make a noise at a house +when illness was inside it: and he waited patiently enough, wondering +whether the servants were asleep, whether Lady Oswald was worse, and +believing the doctors had not yet come. + +When they came forth, he was excessively surprised, marvelling greatly +at his non-admittance. + +"I have been ringing this quarter of an hour," he said, by way of +explanation and apology. "I can't think what the servants can have +been about." + +"What have _you_ been about?" thundered Mark Cray, giving way to +anger, although he had come straight from the presence of the dead. + +Mr. Wild was astonished. "I say, sir, I have been waiting here. I have +been here this quarter of an hour, and could not get let in." + +"And, pray, what kept you? Why were you not here to time?" + +"I was here to time, sir," was the deprecating answer; and the young +man marvelled much what had so put out his good-tempered medical +master. "You told me to be here a little before half-past six, sir, and +I got here five minutes before it." + +Then began that dispute which was never satisfactorily settled; each, +to this very day, believing himself to be in the right. Mr. Cray held +to it that he had told him half-past five; Julius Wild earnestly +protested that he had said half-past six. The wrangling continued for +some minutes, or rather the difference of opinion, for of course the +pupil did not presume to wrangle with his superior. A few sharp words +from Mark, peremptorily ordering him to hold his tongue, concluded it. +The young man walked close by the two doctors, just a little behind +them--for they had been walking down from Lady Oswald's all along, had +not stayed for one minute at the door. He had wondered at first +whether the operation had taken place, and why they should leave the +house just about the time fixed for it: now that he heard of this +misapprehension with regard to the hour, he supposed it was over, and +that Mr. Cray's vexation arose from the fact of his not having arrived +for it. But he was a young man of curiosity, fond of sociability in a +general way, and of asking questions, so he thought he would ask one +now, and make sure. + +"Is the operation over, sir?" + +"Yes," curtly answered Mark. + +"Was it successful?" + +"When did you ever know Dr. Davenal unsuccessful?" retorted Mr. Cray. +"_That_ was successful enough." + +It never occurred to Julius Wild that the stress upon the word "that" +implied, or could imply, that though the operation had been +successful, something else was not. Perhaps it was half a subterfuge +in Mark Cray to have said it. The young man asked no more questions. +Finding himself so snubbed, he desisted, and walked behind in silence. +Neither of them told the unhappy truth to him. Dr. Davenal may have +been too pained, too shocked to speak; Mark Cray's conscience too +suggestive. Nay, Dr. Davenal may not have seen his way clear to speak +at all. If he was to conceal the culpability of Mark Cray, the less he +opened his mouth upon the point, even by a word, the better. + +Suddenly Mark turned round. "You are not wanted, Mr. Wild. There's +nothing more tonight." + +The young man took the hint at once, wished them good-evening, and +walked off to the Infirmary, there to leave certain articles that he +had been carrying. He observed that Dr. Davenal, usually so courteous, +never answered him, never gave him the good-evening in reply to his. + +The two surgeons walked on in silence. The streets were nearly +deserted; and the sound of praise and prayer came upon their ears from +the lighted places of worship as they passed them. The evening was a +warm one, and the doors of the churches and chapels stood open. They +never spoke a word, one to the other. Mark Cray felt as he had +probably never felt in his life--ashamed, repentant, grieved, humble. +He was guilty of the blood of a fellow-creature. _He_ called it a +"mistake." A mistake in one sense it undoubtedly was, but a wicked and +a wilful one. Dr. Davenal felt it to be both: felt that the giving of +the chloroform stealthily, in direct opposition to his expressed +opinion, deserved a worse name; and, though he had promised not to +betray Mark, he could not just yet subdue his own feelings, and speak +to him in a friendly tone. Thus in silence they reached the doctor's +gate. + +"Goodnight," said he, turning in at it. + +"Goodnight," replied Mark, continuing his way. But--and he felt +it--there had been no invitation to him to enter, no pleasant look, no +shake of the hand. + +Neal was at the door, airing himself and watching the scanty +passers-by in the dusky street, the rest of the household being at +church. Dr. Davenal went into his study, and lifted his hat from his +brow as if a heavy weight were there. He had no light, save what came +in from the street gas-lamp. + +He leaned against the window in thought. Two hours before, Lady Oswald +had been, so to say, as full of life as he was, and now----dead. +Killed. There was no mincing the matter to himself; she had been +killed. Killed by Mark Cray. + +Had he done right in undertaking to screen Mark Cray?--to keep his +culpability a secret?--to suffer the world to assume his innocence. +The reader may deem it a grave question: Dr. Davenal was asking it of +himself. Had Mark's been purely an error in judgment; had he +administered the chloroform, believing it to be the right and proper +thing to do, leaving the issue with God, it had been different. But +he had given it in direct opposition to an opinion of more value +than his own; in, as was much to be feared, a spirit of obstinate +defiance. It is true he had not intended to kill; he had probably been +over-confident of the result. How Dr. Davenal condemned him he alone +could tell; but--was it his, the doctor's place, to hold him forth to +the condemnation of the world? No; he, the merciful man, thought it +could not be. One strong point on the side of this mercy was--that the +proclaiming the facts could be productive of no good result; they +could not recall the mistaken act; they could not bring the +unfortunate lady back to life. It might be said that it should be made +known as a warning to others not to trust Mark Cray; but the very +occurrence itself with its tragical end, would, if the doctor knew +anything of human nature, be its own warning for Mark Cray's whole +lifetime. He did not think much of the surgical failure; at least he +was not dwelling on it. Probably the worst calamity had in a measure +eclipsed the other in his mind. Young surgeons had turned nervous +before now, as Dr. Davenal knew; and the fall of the maid Parkins +might certainly have startled him. It was not that that was troubling +him; he had arrested Mark's shaking hands, and replaced them with his +own sure ones, and carried the matter through successfully; it was the +other. + +He thought it over and over, and could not bring himself to see that +he had done wrong in promising to hide the facts. If he went that hour +and stood in the market-place and shouted them forth to all hearers, +it could not bring back the forfeited life; it could not remedy the +past in the remotest degree. He thought of his dead brother, +Caroline's father; he remembered the words he had sent out to him to +soothe his dying bed--"The child shall be to me as a daughter." He +could not, on the very threshold of her wedded life, bring obloquy on +the husband of her choice, and blight his good name, his fair +prospects. And so _he resolved to keep the secret_--to guard the fatal +mistake from the knowledge of the world. Only their own two selves +were privy to it; therefore Mark was perfectly safe--save for him. The +administering the chloroform must be looked upon as an error in +judgment, of his own as well as of Mark's: and yet scarcely an error, +for perhaps nine surgeons out of ten would so have administered it to +a patient under similar circumstances, and have made no exception in +Lady Oswald. He, Dr. Davenal, must suffer this to be assumed, saying +himself as little as was possible upon the matter to any one: in a +case where the termination had been so unfortunate his reticence would +be excused. + +He leaned his head upon his hand in the dark twilight, and pondered +over the circumstances: he could not keep his mind from dwelling upon +them almost morbidly. A strange fatality seemed to have attended +the affair altogether. There had beat the obstinate persistence of +Lady Oswald to see her landlord, in spite of common-sense and of Mr. +Oswald Cray's representation that it could not possibly serve her; +there had been the sudden falling lame of the carriage horse, for +which the coachman had been unable to account; and then there had +been the accident to the train. Parkins had had told him a confused +tale--confused through her own grief, poor woman--of their having gone +by mistake, she and her mistress, to the wrong side of the station at +Hildon to take the return train, and had thereby lost a train. They +went, naturally enough perhaps to inexperienced travellers, to the +side of the platform on which they had descended on going; and it was +not until a train came up to the other side, took in the passengers +waiting on that side of the platform, and went on to Hallingham, that +they discovered their mistake. But for that, they would have been at +Hallingham safe and sound when the accident happened to the late +train. Then there was the fact of Mark Cray's having been in the +train, of his having been the first to see Lady Oswald. When brought +afterwards to the home terminus, she had said, "Mr. Cray will go home +with me:" and later she had insisted on his taking the operation. He +himself had been called out to Thorndyke, had been kept there while +the long hours of the best part of the day had flitted away: had he +not been called out, why the operation would, beyond all question, +have been performed in the morning, probably by himself, for he should +have seen her early and detected its need. There was the absence of +the pupil, Julius Wild, through what appeared an unaccountable +mistake: had that pupil been present, to him would have fallen the +task of getting Parkins from the room, and the chloroform could not +have been administered. A curious chapter of accidents--or what are +called such--and Dr. Davenal lost himself in the chain of thought. "O +merciful Father, forgive him! forgive him this night's work!" he +murmured. "And mayst Thou have taken that poor woman to her rest!" + +A great light and Neal's smooth voice broke upon Dr. Davenal. "Shall I +get you anything, sir? Tea, or"---- + +"I don't want anything, I don't want the gas lighted," interrupted Dr. +Davenal, starting from his chair. "Wait until you are called." + +Neal, after a moment's stare, shot back again. It was not so much the +sharp words, more imperative than any commonly used by his master, but +the wailing tone of pain in which they were spoken, that struck Neal: +nay, it almost seemed as if his entrance had brought a sort of terror +to the doctor. + +It was not terror. Neal was mistaken. But Dr. Davenal had been so +completely buried in thoughts, not altogether of this world, that the +abrupt interruption, with its commonplace excuse, had seemed to him +singularly inopportune, causing him to wave away abruptly the man and +his words. + +He sat on in the dark again, and Neal took his place at the front +door, and stood there looking out. Not a soul was in the house save +himself and his master; and it may have seemed a more cheering way of +passing the evening, to Neal, than to be shut up indoors. + +It grew darker. Neal strolled along by the skirting shrubs of the +garden, and took his stand at the front gate, ready to exchange +courtesies with the people who would soon be going home from church or +chapel. The moon did not give much light yet, but the night promised +to be as clear and bright as the previous one had been. + +"Holloa!" cried Neal, as a man he knew came up quickly. "You are in a +hurry tonight." + +"I have been out on business, Mr. Neal," replied the man, who was in +fact an assistant to a carpenter and undertaker. "Our work can't +always wait for the Sabbath to go by before it is seen to." + +"Is anybody dead?" asked Neal. + +"Lady Oswald. The message came down to us best part of an hour ago; so +I've been up there." + +It has been observed that Neal was too well trained a gentleman both +in manners and nerves to express much surprise, but this answer caused +him the very greatest shock. He was so startled as to take refuge in +disbelief. + +"_Lady Oswald_, did you say? But she's not dead!" + +"But she is," replied the man. "I ought to know. I've just come from +her." + +"Why, what has she died of? They said the railway accident had not +materially hurt her." + +"She haven't died of the accident. She have died of +that--that--what-you-call-it--as is give to folks to take the pain out +of 'em." + +Neal did not understand. "To take the pain out of them?" he repeated, +looking questioningly at the speaker. + +"That stuff that have come into fashion of late years. The doctors +will give it you while you have a tooth took out, if you'll let 'em." + +"Do you mean chloroform?" + +"That's it. I never can remember the name. But I'd rather call it +poison, for my part--killing folks dead off without a warning." + +"Who gave it to Lady Oswald?" + +"Your master," replied the man, lowering his voice to a whisper as he +glanced at the windows of the house. "The servants was in the room +with me up there, and they told me about it. There was something to be +done to my lady--some bones to be set, I believe--and the doctors went +this afternoon, and they give her this stuff, and it killed her. I +wonder Parliament don't make a law again its use, for my part." + +"I am sorry to hear this," exclaimed Neal. "My lady was very friendly +to me." + +"Ay. The servants be cut up like anything. And enough to make 'em! +It's a shocking thing. The lady's maid says she can't think why they +should have give her the stuff, for Mr. Cray himself told her, when he +was there in the afternoon, that what they had to do wouldn't hurt my +lady no more than a flea-bite. Anyway, she's dead. But I can't stop +here, I must get along back with the measure. Goodnight, Mr. Neal." + +"Goodnight," replied Neal. + +He leaned on the gate, watching the man hurrying onwards with his +fleet steps, and thinking over what he had heard. Perhaps it is not +too much to say that Mr. Neal would have preferred to hear of the +death of any other person in Hallingham than of Lady Oswald's. Lady +Oswald had been a great friend to him, and it had been Neal's +intention to put her friendliness to the test in a very short period +of time. Neal was a subtle schemer, and he had been perfecting a plan +by which at one bold stroke Lady Oswald's mind should be disabused of +that suspicion against himself imparted to her by Dr. Davenal the day +of Miss Caroline's marriage, to which he had been an unsuspected +listener, and by which he should also be effectually served. Neal had +begun to feel that his tenure in his present situation was no longer +sure, and he intended by the help of Lady Oswald to secure to himself +a situation of a different nature. + +Now this grand scheme was destroyed. As the rising waves dash away the +"houses" built by children on the sands at the sea-shore, so this +château en Espagne of Neal's was dashed down by the death of Lady +Oswald. If Neal's cold and selfish heart could like any one, it had +liked her. She had kept up friendly relations with Neal, as a former +retainer of Sir John and Thorndyke; had shown more consideration to +Neal than to her own servants--had treated him in fact as superior to +her servants. When Neal waited on her at her residence to pay his +respects, as he did occasionally, she would ring the bell on his +departure and say sharply, "Show Mr. Neal out"--as much as to remind +her household that he had not been a common servant at Thorndyke: he +was groom of the chambers. She had also been liberal in her presents +to Neal. Altogether, Neal in his discomfiture felt very much, as +though her ladyship's death was a grievance personally inflicted on +himself. + +Jessy the housemaid was the first of the servants to return. The +moment she entered, Neal took his hat and went up to Lady Oswald's +with a view of learning particulars. The news had been so sudden, so +unexpected, that some faint feeling or hope almost seemed to be in the +man's mind that he should find it untrue. + +He found it too true. He was allowed to see Lady Oswald, and he +listened to the details given by the servants, gathering them into his +mind to be turned over and examined afterwards. Parkins spoke with him +privately. She was very bitter against the chloroform: she said to him +that she should always look upon the administering it as an underhand +trick not to be understood. There was no question of chloroform when +she was in the room, and that was up to the very last moment; there +was no chloroform present that she saw, and the doctors must have got +it concealed in their pockets and produced it when her back was +turned. She didn't blame Mr. Cray; she was certain it was not Mr. +Cray; for he had told her privately in the afternoon that the +operation would be a mere nothing, a flea-bite--and she could only +wonder at Dr. Davenal's not having exercised more caution. One of the +servants downstairs had had some experience in chloroform, she added, +and her opinion was, that an over-quantity must have been given: that +Dr. Davenal had mistook the dose, and given too much. At any rate, if +ever there was a murdered woman, it was her mistress. + +Parkins's eyes were alight when she said this, and Parkins's cheeks +aflame. Her grief for the loss of her mistress was merging into anger +at its cause. Like Neal, she was beginning to consider it as a +personal grievance inflicted on herself, and to resent it as such. +Self-interest sways the best of us more or less: and Parkins felt that +through this she had lost a better place than she should ever find +again. Neal asked her a few questions on his own score, and hurried +away with the information he had garnered. + +He hastened home with the utmost speed that his legs would carry him. +He had a reason--at least he thought he might have one in future--for +not wishing it known at home that he had paid that visit to Lady +Oswald's. The late returners from church were but in the streets when +he went back, slowly pacing along in the lovely autumn night. He +whisked in just in time to admit the ladies. + +"Is papa in, Neal?" + +"Yes," answered Neal, haphazard, for he was of course not positive +upon the point. "I fancy he is in his room, Miss Sara." + +Sara knocked at the consulting-room door and entered. As she went +forward, Neal contrived to obtain a passing view of the interior. It +was still in darkness, and Dr. Davenal was leaning his back against +the window-frame his arms folded, his head bowed, as one will stand +when under the weight of care. + +"It looks just as though he had purposely killed her," was Neal's +comment to himself. + +Not that Neal thought it _then_. No, no. But Neal was in a state of +terrible vexation and disappointment; in that precise mood when it is +a vast relief to vent one's trouble upon anybody. + +"How sad you look, papa!" cried Sara, as she noted his depressed +attitude. "And you are all in the dark!" + +Dr. Davenal aroused himself, put his hand on his daughter, and turned +round to face the street. At that moment the death-bell rang out. + +Accustomed now to the darkness of the room--not that it was entirely +dark, for the doctor had thrown open the Venetian blind, and the +gas-lamp cast in its rays brightly--Sara could see how sad and clouded +was his face. The death-bell was striking out its quick sharp strokes. + +"Do you know who the bell is tolling for, papa? I never heard it ring +out so late as this." + +"I expect it is tolling for Lady Oswald." + +"Papa! For Lady Oswald?" She quite shrieked as she said it in her +startled surprise. + +"She is dead, child," he said, his subdued voice a contrast to hers. + +"O papa! Was it the operation? Did she die under it?" + +"Yes--in one sense. The operation was successfully accomplished, +but--chloroform was exhibited, and she never rallied from it." + +Sara stood still, her heart beating. It seemed that a hundred regrets +were crowding upon her, a hundred questions. "O papa, why did you +administer chloroform?" she exclaimed, scarcely knowing what she said. + +For a single moment the temptation came over Dr. Davenal to tell his +daughter the truth, and he had unclosed his lips to speak; but he +checked himself in time. Sara was trustworthy--he knew that; but it +was impossible to answer for chance or inadvertent words, even from +her; and for Mark's sake it might be better to leave her in equal +ignorance with the rest of the world. + +"My dear," he said--and the words to her ear sounded strangely +solemn--"I have striven to do the best always for my patients, under +God. Had I been able to save Lady Oswald's life, I would have saved +it." + +"O yes yes, papa, I know that. We all know it. Did she die quite +suddenly? Was she sensible of her state?" + +"People who die under the influence of chloroform seldom know anything +after inhaling it. She did not. Sara, it is a painful subject; I would +rather not speak of it. I feel it greatly--greatly." + +She quitted him and went upstairs to take off her things. When she +came down again Dr. Davenal was in the dining-room, and the tray, as +was usual when they dined early, was on the table with some slight +refreshment. + +"Not anything for me," said the doctor to his sister. "I cannot eat +tonight." + +He did not sit down: he was pacing the carpet with thoughtful, +measured tread. Neal stole a glance at him from under the corner of +his eyes. + +"Shall I light the gas in your study, sir, tonight?" + +"No. Yes, you may light one burner," the doctor added after a moment's +pause. + +"What's the matter, Richard?" asked Miss Davenal. "You seem cut up. +Have you had a hard day's work today?" + +"Pretty well," called out the doctor. + +"Do you know who it is that's dead? Very queer that the passing-bell +should toll out at night!" + +"You can tell your aunt, Sara," the doctor quietly said, as he stepped +to the door of the room, and vanished. + +"Well, I'm sure!" angrily cried Miss Davenal. "My brother is polite +tonight. He might have answered me." + +Sara pushed from her the piece of cake she had been trying to eat, and +went close to her aunt, speaking in her slowest and most distinct +tones. + +"Don't you see that papa has had a great shock--a blow, Aunt Bettina? +Lady Oswald is dead." + +Poor Miss Davenal, never very quick at comprehending, confused the +information together in the most helpless manner. "What do you say? +Lady Oswald has had a blow? Who's dead?" + +"Aunt, aunt, you will understand me if you won't be impatient. Lady +Oswald is dead. And I say it is a great blow to papa. I can see that +it is." + +Miss Davenal heard now, and looked perfectly scared. "Lady Oswald +dead! It cannot be, Sara." + +"She had to undergo some operation in consequence of the accident, and +papa gave her chloroform, hoping of course to lighten the pain, and +she never rallied from it." + +Miss Davenal seized Sara's hands in her dismay. Her senses were +sharpened and she had heard perfectly; her face had turned white. +Neal, who had come in, looked at her as he stood near the door, and +wondered whether she was going to faint. + +"Sara, I don't like that chloroform. I have told the doctor so, often +and often. They should never try it upon me. Who gave it her?" + +"Papa," replied Sara, never dreaming but she was correct in saying so. +"Aunt Bettina, he gave it her for the best." + +"Best! of course he gave it for the best--nobody disputes that. But I +don't like it: I never did like it. Chloroform is come into fashion +now--an improvement on the old state of things, they call it, as they +call the railways--and I don't deny that it spares pain; but I do not +like it." + +By and by Sara went to the consulting-room. The doctor was pacing it +uneasily. + +"I have come to say goodnight, papa." + +"You are going to bed early, is it ten o'clock?" + +"Yes, I think it is past ten. Goodnight, dear papa. I hope you will be +better in the morning." + +"I have felt nothing like it since the death of Richard. Goodnight, my +child." + +It was not so much the death in itself that was affecting Dr. Davenal, +as the appalling reflection that it had been, in a manner, wilfully +caused. The knowledge weighed on his heart like a stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +THE NIGHT VISITOR TO DR. DAVENAL. + + +The bedchamber of Sara Davenal was over the doctor's study, on the +opposite side of the landing to the drawing-room. It was not a large +room, but longer than it was wide, and the bed was placed at the far +end of the room--the back. The chamber behind it was larger, and +occupied by Miss Davenal. The room opposite Miss Davenal's, and behind +the drawing-room, had been the bedchamber of Dr. Davenal in his +wife's lifetime; since her death it had been kept as a spare room for +chance visitors. + +Sara did not begin to undress immediately upon entering the room. She +put out the light, and sat down at the open window to indulge in a +little quiet thought: it was rather a habit of hers to do so when the +night was fine and she came up early. She liked to sit there and think +of many things, to glance up at the clear sky in the bright moonlight. +With all her practical good sense--and she had her full portion of +it--she was of a somewhat dreamy, imaginative temperament; and since +Richard's death she had grown to think more of that other home to +which he was gone, the same to which we are all hastening, than it is +perhaps usual for girls of Sara's age to think of it. As she had said +to Dr. Davenal in the afternoon, she would wonder whether Richard and +her lost mother--whom she but imperfectly remembered--could look down +upon her: she was fond of fancying that they were looking down upon +her: and she would lose herself in a maze of visionary imaginings. + +Not on this night, however, did her thoughts turn to Richard. They +were full of Lady Oswald and her unhappy death. That this fatal +chloroform had been administered for the best, in accordance with Dr. +Davenal's experienced judgment, Sara assumed as a matter of course; +she never so much as thought of casting a doubt to it: but she knew +enough of him to be sure that the fatal termination would cause him to +repent of having given it--to blame himself bitterly, and she felt for +him to the very depth of her heart. An uncomfortable sensation, as if +her father had been guilty of some deliberate wrong, was pervading +her, and she could not shake it off. + +It should be observed that although Sara sat close to the open window, +she was not liable to be seen by the passers-by in the street, did any +cast their eyes that way. A small stand or ledge had been constructed +round the window (a bay window, as was the one answering to it on the +other side, the drawing-room), and this was filled with pots in +flower. Geraniums of many species, fuchsias, heliotropes, heaths, wild +thyme, the fine flowering cactus, and many others, raised their heads +proudly, and formed a screen behind which Sara was securely sheltered +from observation, and also from the rays of the gas-lamp at the gate, +which otherwise would have lighted her up. So that, although she could +see out perfectly well, sitting as she now was, she could not be seen. +If she chose to stand at the window and lean out, her head was above +the flowers; but at the same time they entirely prevented her from +seeing anything immediately below her window. The ground for a yard or +two beyond Dr. Davenal's study window was as completely hidden from +her as though it had been a hundred miles off; and it is necessary to +mention this. The bedroom above Sara's, occupied by Watton the upper +maid, had a flat window, and its view underneath was in like manner +obstructed by the extending bow and the plants in it of Sara's. These +flowers at Miss Sara Davenal's window were quite the admiration of the +pedestrian portion of Hallingham, and many a one would halt at the +front railings to take a passing gaze at them. They were really +beautiful, and Sara took a pride in them and liked to tend them. + +She liked to inhale their sweet perfume, as she was doing now, sweeter +and stronger in the night air than in the garish day. Perhaps the +heliotrope was of all the most powerful scent: and somehow that +heliotrope had become associated in her mind with Mr. Oswald Cray. She +could not have told why or wherefore; she had never attempted to +analyse the cause: she only knew that when she approached that window, +and the perfume of the heliotrope was wafted to her senses, the image +of Oswald Cray was, in like manner, by some mysterious instinct, +wafted to her mind. + +Perhaps it did not require any extraneous aid to bring him to her +memory. He was already too securely seated there. For the last +twelvemonth, since Oswald Cray had become intimate at their house, her +love for him had been gradually growing into being: that subtle +understanding, never to be explained or accounted for, which draws +together two human hearts, and only those two, the one for the other, +of all the whole world, life finding life, had arisen between them. +Oswald Cray had never spoken or hinted at his feelings until the time +when Dr. Davenal honestly avowed to him that he had fancied he cared +for Caroline: that had brought forth the one word--and it was little +more--to Sara. But she had known it just as surely as though he had +spoken out all along. + +Save for that shrinking reticence which would fain hide the secret, as +the modest snowdrop hides its head, and which must always accompany +the feeling if it be genuine, there was nothing to be ashamed of in +this love. It is true that it had become entwined with every fibre +of her heart, was a part and parcel of her very being. It would +perhaps have been impossible--at least, it would have been very +improbable--for Sara Davenal, with her right feeling, her powers of +discernment, which she possessed in a high degree, and her sound good +sense, to fall in love with an unworthy man. She could not have met +with a more worthy one than Oswald Cray. He had his faults--ay, who +has not?--but they were faults of what may be called a high order; not +mean, drivelling, scandalising faults, that abound in the world. Each +was suited and suitable to the other, in taste, in position, in moral +goodness: and their love had been given for aye; beyond the power of +circumstances or time to change. They might never be more to each than +they were now. Untoward fate might separate them; the world's bitter +tongues, expediency, the poison of misunderstanding; any one of these +separating causes might part them; Sara's unbending principle, +Oswald's wrong-headed pride--it was impossible to foretell: but of one +thing both might rest assured, that unto their dying day that love +could never be wholly extinguished in either heart, so as to give +place to another. + +Somehow the thoughts of Sara Davenal had wandered from the painful +subject of Lady Oswald to this brighter one: wandered unwittingly, +against her will. She would not have _chosen_ to dwell upon her love +that sad night, or on the one sweet word of Oswald when he last parted +from her: but there it was, sounding in her ears and her heart: and +she lost herself in one of the sweetest reveries that ever maiden +pictured of the future. + +Suddenly she was aroused from it. Not by any thought of poor Lady +Oswald, or of her father's sorrow, or of the minutes that were +hurrying on, or that it was time she prepared for bed; but by the +sight of some one coming in at the front gate. It was nothing unusual +for that gate to be invaded at night, by messengers summoning Dr. +Davenal to some urgent bed of sickness. But this intruder had +something peculiar about him, or about his movements, which attracted +her eye. + +He was a tall man, wearing a cap and a grey Scotch plaid scarf. The +cap, which had a peak to it, appeared to be tied down over his ears, +and the scarf was worn in a droll fashion, one at least that Sara had +never seen in Hallingham. It was put lengthways over the shoulders, as +a lady puts on a scarf; it came down to the waist behind, and was held +very much up to the neck in front. Sara naturally looked at the man, +looked keenly with a view of distinguishing his features. In her +sympathy with the sick, she thought to learn, by him, who was ill that +night and wanted her father. But she was unable to do this, and the +first thought that struck upon her as curious was, that a man should +be so completely wrapped up on that genial night. The next curious +thing that struck her was--the man's movements. + +He had come up to the gate with very quick steps--as messengers from +the sick often did come--opened it, and gave a sort of dart or spring +to his right, which brought him under the shade of the laurels and hid +him from the moonlight. There he stopped, reconnoitring the house, so +far as could be seen, but really it required a quick eye to +distinguish him at all from the dark shrubs. That was not precisely +the way in which night applicants came to Dr. Davenal's house; and +Sara, very much astonished, rose quietly from her seat, to see the +better. + +He came on at last, creeping close to the shrubs, stooping under their +shade, until he gained Dr. Davenal's window. With all Sara's +endeavours to look, she there lost sight of him, because he was +beneath, but she heard a gentle tapping at the window. Not the quick +imperative noise of one in haste, demanding instant attention, but a +covert, stealthy tapping, which seemed afraid of being heard. More and +more astonished, Sara leaned out further; but she could not lean far +enough to see. + +The window was opened instantly; therefore it was to be supposed that +Dr. Davenal had not retired from the room; that his light had probably +guided the stranger to apply at the window, instead of at the door. +The first sound, after the opening of the window, was a warning +hush-sh-sh-sh! but whether it came from the applicant or from her +father she could not tell. A short colloquy followed, only a word or +two in the most covert tones, and then Dr. Davenal went to the front +door and admitted the visitor. Sara sat down overwhelmed with +amazement. + +Somebody else was overwhelmed with amazement unfortunately--or perhaps +the better word for _him_ would be curiosity--and that was Mr. Neal. +Neal had been a witness to it all. When it struck half-past ten--and +this mysterious visit occurred some five minutes subsequent to that +time--Dr. Davenal had opened his study door, called to Neal, and told +him to put the gas out. Which was equivalent to telling him to go to +bed: the putting out of the gas being the last service usually +required of Neal. Neal came forward and did as he was bid--he put out +the hall-lamp and any other burners that might be alight, with the +exception of the one in the doctor's study. Dr. Davenal always took +that upon himself, and he put out the burner as he spoke to Neal, and +lighted his candle for bed, no gas being laid on in the bedrooms. +Neal then went downstairs and turned the gas off at the main; so the +house was safe. + +But Neal, as a matter of taste was not fond of retiring early. And +when he came up again, and had shut himself into his pantry, instead +of passing into his sleeping-room he blew out his candle, opened the +door on the side, and, dexterously avoiding contact with the shrubs, +he stole to the front. There he stood, amidst the shrubs, near the +doctor's window, with a view possibly of giving himself a little fresh +air. + +He glanced at the window; the half-shutters were not drawn up, a thing +the doctor did himself the very last thing, and he could see the wax +candle on the table through the Venetian blinds. The upper shutters of +the window were closed; Neal always closed those when he lighted the +gas; but his orders were to leave the lower ones open. It was a fancy +of the doctor's the being able to take a look out at the street until +the last, if he chose to do so. The upper shutters being closed did +not prevent the window being opened at will. It is as well to give +these details, for this was an eventful night in the existence of Dr. +Davenal: and of others besides. + +Neal could see the candle, and he could see his master. Dr. Davenal +was seated at the table, his head leaning on his hand. Whether he was +reading, or whether he had merely bent his head in thought, Neal could +not discern, but he thought he had never in his life seen a +countenance so troubled. + +There was nothing in all that, however, to afford particular +gratification to Neal's curiosity, and he drew cautiously away from +the window, and turned his attention on the street. It was necessary +to be cautious, for the least stir of the shrubs would have been heard +by Dr. Davenal on that still night; sitting as he did with the window +a little open, his custom until he retired. Neal stood watching the +passers-by. Stay; watching _for_ any passers-by; but he had not seen +one yet. Sunday evening hours were early at Hallingham, and people +were mostly indoors and abed. Now, in point of fact, Neal had no +particular motive in stealing out and standing there; he was not +expecting any one or anything; but he had a habit of peering about him +a great deal more than most people have, and Neal rarely went finally +to rest without coming out to take a general glance round, and see +anything there might be to see. + +Little did Neal anticipate the reward his curiosity was to receive +this night. He was taking a last look previous to retreating, thinking +it rather slow work standing there with nothing to see, not even a +passing passenger on that quiet Sunday night, when the man who had so +surprised Sara Davenal darted in at the gate. Neal strained his eyes +in a vain attempt to discover who it was, and backed into safe +quarters. + +He heard the covert tapping at the window; he heard the warning hush +when the doctor opened it, and he could not say for certain, any more +than Sara could, which of the two it was who had given that warning +hush; and then after a short whispering, the purport of which he was +entirely unable to make out, the doctor's tones were a little raised: + +"I will open the door for you." + +The stranger made his way to the front door. Neal, in the swift, +unerring, covert manner which practice had rendered facile, stole back +to his pantry with incredible speed, and was in time to peep out of +it, and to see the visitor admitted. + +But he gained nothing by his movement. The hall was in the dark: Dr. +Davenal had not brought his candle out, and Neal could not see more +than the very faintest outline of their forms. They passed into the +room in silence, and Neal heard the door closed quietly and +cautiously; another minute and the bolt was slipped. He took off his +shoes and stole on tiptoe in his stockings to the door, and put his +ear to it. + +No, not a word could he hear. That door was a sound door, a +close-fitting one: Neal had tried it before in his life, and obtained +no more result than he was obtaining now. He made his way back through +the pantry to the window again, and there Neal could have groaned in +impotent rage had he dared, for Dr. Davenal had shut it. + +But he had not closed the shutters. Neal, if it was any good to him, +could still get a glimpse in through the upright staves of the green +dwarf blinds. It was but a glimpse, for they were turned all but close +together, the one stave nearly lying on the other, and it did not +afford him satisfaction, for he could see neither Dr. Davenal nor his +visitor, who were seated at the side of the room close together where +the angle of view obtainable by Neal would not reach them. A very +faint hum of voices penetrated his ear, and he was not sure whether +that was not fancy. Their conversation was being carried on in the +lowest tones. + +Unsatisfactory as was this result as a whole, Neal waited with +patience. Such men as Neal are always patient The clock struck eleven, +and the clock struck half-past eleven, and Neal was still there. + +Then there occurred a change. Dr. Davenal rose from his seat and began +pacing the room. His whole face was working with agitation. Neal +caught a sight of it occasionally as he paced, and was struck by the +troubled expression, nay, by the _dread_ that pervaded it. Neal had +long ago made up his mind as to the purport of the visit--that it was +in some way connected with the catastrophe of the evening, the death +of Lady Oswald. + +Suddenly Neal was startled. His nose was uncommonly close to the +window, and the window was abruptly raised; raised without the +slightest warning some half-dozen inches. Neal believed his nose was +off. + +When he came to himself, which he really did not for a few minutes, +some words in a wailing tone were issuing from the lips of Dr. +Davenal. "Silence must be purchased at any price; at any price. If it +takes the whole of my fortune, I must purchase silence." Neal pricked +up his ears. + +Dr. Davenal was walking still; the visitor, whoever he might be, never +moved from his seat. It was only when the doctor came near the window +that Neal caught an occasional word. "Yes, Lady Oswald herself. She +wished it," were the next words he heard, and then there was another +temporary lull. + +"I am aware of that. Murder? yes, the world would look upon it as +such. I felt certain that Lady Oswald was one to whom chloroform, if +administered, would prove fatal. Heaven help me! What have I done that +the trials of this day should fall upon my head?" + +Dr. Davenal was standing at the window as he said this, had halted +there with his voice close to Neal's face, and Neal's hair stood on +end as he heard it. From that moment the man believed--fully believed +in his inmost heart--that his master had purposely destroyed Lady +Oswald. Perhaps the belief, judging from these disconnected and +certainly ominous words, was excusable. + +For a short while Neal heard no more. His master had halted opposite +the stranger and was talking fast, but nothing came to Neal but a +confused sound. Then he advanced again. + +"I tell you it shall be done. If it costs every penny piece that I +have saved, this horrible secret must be bought up--if money will buy +it. I shall never know another happy moment: I shall live as with a +sword of disgrace hanging over me, ever expecting it to fall." + +Some murmured words came from the stranger, and Neal stretched his ear +to its utmost tension. Whether in doing so he made the least noise, +touched the window, rustled the shrubs, he could not tell, but Dr. +Davenal turned and shut the window down as swiftly and suddenly as he +had put it up. + +So, hearing was cut off. But Neal could see still--just a glimpse. He +saw Dr. Davenal go out of the room with the candle and bring back a +plate of biscuits and a decanter of wine. He knew he must have gone to +the dining-room sideboard for them. A wish crossed Neal's mind to go +indoors, make the excuse that he had heard his master stirring, and +dash into the study on the pretence of inquiring if he could do +anything. But he did not dare. Neal would have given a whole year's +wages to get one good look at the visitor. Presently all sight was cut +off. Barely had Dr. Davenal put down the decanter and biscuits than he +turned to the window and pulled up the shutters. + +It was a checkmate for Neal. He went in and stood just outside his +pantry, hesitating whether to go close to the room door or not. A good +thing he did not, for Dr. Davenal came out almost immediately, and +went upstairs to his daughter's room. + +Neal heard him knock at it very softly; he heard him ask in a whisper +whether she was in bed yet. That she was not in bed the immediate +opening of the door proved. + +Dr. Davenal went in and closed the door. Neal could hear the murmur of +his voice, as if he were explaining something to his daughter, and +then they came down together, treading softly, not to arouse the +house. Neal could see that she was fully dressed, in the same silk she +had worn in the day. They went in, and the door was closed, and the +bolt slipped as before. + +Ten minutes, and Sara came out again alone. Neal could tell who it was +by the rustling of the silk, but there was no light. She returned +upstairs to her room, but not before Neal thought he had caught the +sound of a sob. + +The next to come forth was the visitor, without a candle still. Dr. +Davenal opened the hall door and let him out. Neal, with his quick +movements, glided round to his post of observation in the front +garden, and was just in time to see him go through the gate, the cap +drawn over his face, and the grey woollen scarf muffled around him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +AFTER THE VISITOR'S DEPARTURE. + + +If ever the signs of misery, of despair, of terror, were depicted on a +human face, they were on Dr. Davenal's as he sat that night in his +study. He was as a man who has received some great shock; a shock that +strikes a species of paralysis alike to the heart and to the frame. +His arms hung down listlessly, his head was bent, his fixed eyes had a +wild anxious look, most foreign to the usually calm orbs of the +composed surgeon. An hour and a quarter had he thus sat since the +departure of that midnight visitor who had brought with him so much +apparent mystery, so much woe, and the house clock was striking one. +The sound did not arouse Dr. Davenal; he sat on with his face of +terrified despair. + +The wax taper, unheeded, unlooked at, stood on a side-table where it +had been accidentally put. It had burnt nearly to the socket, and it +now began to spurt and gutter with a great light; the signs of its +end. That awoke Dr. Davenal from his reverie. The prospect of being +left in the dark was not a convenient one; and he tore a bit of paper +from a journal lying near and essayed to light the gas, completely +forgetting that it had been turned off at the main. + +Finding his mistake, he stood a moment with his hand to his temples, +as if endeavouring to collect thought, and then opened the door of his +bedroom. Candles always stood there on the mantelpiece ready for +lighting, and he brought one forward and succeeded in catching a light +for it from the dying taper. + +This had the effect of effectually arousing him. He looked at his +watch, and then held the candle to a book-shelf, whence he selected a +local railway guide, and sat down to the table to consult it. + +"Nothing until the morning!" he exclaimed in a tone that might have +been one of vexation but for its deeper pain. "Stay, though! Yes, +there is. There's the train that passes here at 3.20 for Merton: and I +should find a train on from thence. Then I must go by it: there's no +time to be lost, once the morrow has dawned, if this unhappy business +is to be suppressed. Twenty minutes past three; and now it is one; I +can lie down for an hour and a half." + +He went at once into his bedroom, took off his coat, and lay down on +the outside of the bed. There was no fear of his oversleeping himself; +sleep for a troubled mind in its first shock, troubled as was Dr. +Davenal's, is out of the question. + +Rest also seemed to be. He could not lie. He tossed and turned on the +uneasy counterpane, and finally sprang off it with a wail of agony, +and took to pacing the room. Neal, who was regaling his ear at the +chamber door, could hear every footfall of the slippers, every groan +of the distressed heart. Never more, never more in this world, would +the heart of Richard Davenal lose its care. + +Neal was not in the habit, with all his ferreting propensities, of +sitting up at night to pursue them; but this night was an exceptional +one. To say that Neal had been astonished, confounded at what had +taken place, at the knowledge he believed he had acquired, would be +saying little, in comparison with its effect upon his mind. He did not +love his master; he did not like him; it may not be going too far to +say that he hated him; for Neal's instinct had taught him that his +master partially saw through him, partially suspected him to be the +villain that he was; but to believe him capable of deliberately +destroying one of his patients, was in truth almost too great a +stretch for even Neal. Until that night, Neal could not have believed +him capable of any wrong act: he gave him credit, for he could not +help doing so, for his honour and his virtues, while he disliked him: +but he did in truth now believe that Dr. Davenal had wilfully killed +Lady Oswald. That is, that he had given her the chloroform +deliberately, knowing it would probably take her life. + +The faintest possible doubt of this had been first caught from the +words of Parkins. Not real doubt, but a sort of angry feeling of the +extreme imprudence of the doctor in having given it: Neal no more +believed then that Dr. Davenal had done it, or was capable of doing +it, than he could have believed the most monstrous improbability in +the world. Still the _idea_ had been admitted: and when that strange +visitor was with his master afterwards, and Neal heard, with his own +ears, the suspicious words that fell, he could put upon them but one +interpretation--that, incredible as it seemed, his master _was_ +guilty, and not unintentionally, of the death of Lady Oswald. Neal +hoped to arrive at the why and the wherefore, and he thought nothing +of sitting up the night to do it: if by that means he might gain any +satisfactory solution. Neal, it must be confessed, was utterly stunned +with the affair, with the belief; and could hot see or understand yet +with any clearness: like a man who is struck violently on the head, +and looks around him in stupid helpless maze, as if he had a dead wall +before him. A shock to the head and a shock to the mind will bear for +the passing moment the same apparent result. + +Dr. Davenal paced his room, his two rooms in fact, for the door was +open between them, and he passed from one to the other in his restless +wanderings, his mental agony. Soon after two he began to wash and +dress himself; that is, he changed some of his clothes, and poured out +a wash-hand basin of cold water and splashed his face with it. He put +on a pair of boots; he searched for his gloves; he looked out an +overcoat; and then he stood for a few minutes and thought. + +Lifting the writing-desk from underneath the table, where you may +remember it was kept, he unlocked it, and was for some little time +examining certain papers it contained. Some of these he put in his +pocket, and then he locked the desk and replaced it. Next he sat down +to write a note; just a line or two. + +It was getting on past the half-hour then. He opened the door and went +forth from his room. Neal, who had heard him coming, peeped from his +pantry and saw him turn to the stairs, the candle in one hand, a note +held in the other. Neal cautiously stole forward a step or two, and +looked and listened. + +He was downstairs again instantly; he had only gone to the first +floor, and had not opened any door, or Neal must have heard it: had +not, in fact, been long enough to open one. The note was gone from his +hand, and Neal wondered where he had left it. + +He went into the study, and came out without the light, an overcoat +on, and his hat in his hand. The moonlight shone in now through the +fan-light over the front door, and Neal could see so much. He appeared +to be coming towards the pantry; Neal silently closed the door and +slipped the noiseless bolt. Neal took very good care to keep his own +locks and bolts well oiled. + +Dr. Davenal essayed to open the pantry-door and found it fastened. He +shook it, knocked at it, not over gently. Neal, too great a +diplomatist to be taken at a loss, flung off his coat, waistcoat, and +slippers, threw back his braces, rumpled his hair, and opened the door +to his master with the air of a man just aroused from his bed. + +"Why do you sleep with the door locked, Neal?"--and the question was +put in an imperative tone. + +"I--it is but very rare that I do, sir. I must have shot the bolt last +night without thinking of it." + +"I won't have it done. Nobody shall sleep in my house with a locked +door. It is a dangerous habit. Were a fire to take place, and the +sleeper a heavy one, he might not be aroused in time. Don't do it +again. Neal," he continued, changing his tone, "I am summoned out +farther away than usual. I don't care to disturb Miss Davenal--you can +tell them tomorrow morning. I shall not be home all day." + +"Have you to go far, sir?" inquired Neal. + +"Yes. I don't expect to be home all day, I tell you, and that's why I +bid you inform them. Nobody is to sit up for me tomorrow night; I may +be detained longer. Tell Miss Davenal so." + +"Very well, sir," replied Neal. "Is the carriage ready for you?" + +Neal put this cunningly. He felt sure his master was not going in the +carriage. + +"I don't require the carriage. That's all, Neal; you can go to bed +again. I was obliged to disturb you." + +Dr. Davenal turned, walked straight to the front door, and let himself +out at it, closing it securely after him. Neal waited a moment, +rearranged his attire a little, and then stepped also to the front +door and drew the heavy bolt across it. No danger now of his master's +coming in with his latch-key to pounce upon him. + +Neal got a light, went into the study, and took a leisurely survey. He +was scarcely rewarded. There was nothing whatever about, more than on +other mornings: no signs remained of the stranger's visit, not a trace +that could betray any disturbance on the part of Dr. Davenal. The +sherry and biscuits were put up: Neal walked across to the dining-room +and found them in the sideboard, just as he had left them on the +previous night. The glass, used, stood on it. Neal solaced himself +with some of the sherry, and went back to the study. + +The old cloth was undisturbed on the table, the blotting-book and +inkstand lying on it. Neal looked through the book, but received no +satisfaction. He examined the pens, and saw that in one the ink was +not yet dry. In the bedroom the clothes which his master had taken off +lay about; Mr. Neal _en passant_ visited the pockets and found them +empty; and the bed was pressed on the outside, but had not been slept +in. That curious visit in the night might have been a dream, for all +there was left to tell of it. + +"But there's that note yet," thought Neal. "What did he take it +upstairs for, and where did he leave it?" + +Stealing up the stairs in his stockinged feet, shading the light in +his hand, Neal came to the vestibule, and looked on the table. He +looked on the stand which held a beautiful statue in marble, he looked +up even at the frames of the pictures; he looked everywhere. But there +was no letter. + +"I'm positive he did not stop long enough to open a door!" ejaculated +Neal, rather at a nonplus. + +A bright thought struck him. He bent down, shading still the light +with his hand, and peered under Miss Sara Davenal's door. And then +came Neal's reward. He saw the corner of something white quite close +to him, not pushed entirely beyond the door. Dr. Davenal, not to +disturb his daughter, had pushed his letter to her in that way. + +Neal took out his penknife, and, with its help, by dint of +perseverance and ingenuity, succeeded in drawing back the note, which +he stole downstairs with, and into his own chamber. A little more +ingenuity with the penknife, and the envelope, not yet fully dry, +came open. Neal had obtained an insight into some secrets in his life, +but never one so weighty as this, never one had touched on that ugly +word "murder" which was running through Neal's mind: and his usually +impassive face grew streaked with scarlet in excitement. + + +"My Dear Child, + +"Business connected with this most unhappy secret obliges me to go out +for a day, perhaps two. I shall leave a message with Neal. Do not +appear to know anything when he delivers it: hear it as though you +were a stranger to everything. Don't talk of my absence to any one if +you can help it. People will conclude I have gone to see some patient +at a distance, as will your aunt: it is not necessary to undeceive +them. R. D." + + +There was not so very much to be made out of that, and the scarlet +streaks faded again from Neal's disappointed face. "This most unhappy +secret," he repeated over twice, as if the words bore some euphonious +sound. Whatever it might be, the secret, it was evident that Miss Sara +Davenal had been made cognisant of it; and Neal rather rejoiced in the +pill it must be for her, for he liked his young mistress not one whit +better than he liked his master. He read the note again, refastened it +in the envelope, stole upstairs to push it under the door, and then +retired to his late bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +COMMOTION. + + +Meanwhile Dr. Davenal was walking along the streets of the town, lying +so calm, so still in the moonlight. Not with any hurried tread; rather +with a slow one. In his restlessness of mind, he had come out sooner +than he need have come; but bodily action is a relief to mental +anguish. + +"Goodnight, doctor! or rather morning--for that's what it is." + +The salutation came from one of the general practitioners of the town, +a hard-worked apothecary, whose business took him abroad a good deal +at night. He was hastening up a side street, near the town-hall, and +Dr. Davenal had not observed him. + +"Ah, is it you, Smithson? A fine night, is it not?" + +"All nights are pretty near the same to me," returned Mr. Smithson. "I +see too much of them. I wish folks would be so accommodating as to +choose the day to be ill in. I don't know who'd be one of us. It's not +often that we see you abroad at night, though, doctor?" + +"Not often. We can't help it sometimes, you know. Goodnight." + +They were bound different ways. The doctor had walked on his, when Mr. +Smithson came running back. + +"Dr. Davenal, what _is_ the truth about Lady Oswald? I hear she's +dead." + +"She is--unhappily." + +"And the report going about is, that she died from the effects of +chloroform! Could not rally after inhaling it." + +"Ah, it's a sad thing," replied the doctor; "a grievous thing. There's +the dark side in these new discoveries of our practice: sacrificing +the few while blessing the many. Goodnight, I say. I can't stop." + +"It's true, then, that it was the chloroform?" + +"Yes, it's true." Dr. Davenal increased his pace: he was in no mood +for questioning, and this in particular was painful to him. A short +while, and he stood before the Abbey, looking up at its windows. He +was sorry to disturb Mark, but he deemed it was necessary, and he rang +the night bell. + +A new bell which Mark Cray had caused to be placed in the house since +he took it, and which rang himself up, not his household. Dr. Davenal +waited, but the ring was unanswered, and he rang again, with the like +result. + +A third summons brought Mark to the window, which he threw up, +half-asleep still. "If that's the way you are going to let your night +applicants ring, Mark Cray, almost as good not put up the bell." + +Mark Cray could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw who was the +speaker. "I was in a heavy sleep," he answered. "Did you ring more +than once?" + +A heavy sleep! Truly Dr. Davenal marvelled at the words. He marvelled +that sleep could have visited Mark Cray that night, after his share in +its fatal work. + +"What is the matter?" asked Mark. "Am I wanted?" + +"It is I who want you," said the doctor. "I must say a word to you if +you'll come down. I am called out of town." + +Mark attired himself sufficiently to descend, which he did in a state +of wonder. He had never received a night visit from Dr. Davenal; it +was quite out of the usual order of things, and he would about as soon +have expected to see a live kangaroo wait upon him. He opened the +front door, and they stepped into the large parlour. + +"Who is ill?" inquired Mark. "Are you called out far?" + +"I am going out on a little private business of my own. The train for +Merton will be through presently, and I shall take it. If"---- + +"Why did you not tell me last night?" interrupted Mark. + +"Because I did not then know I should have to go. You must take my +patients for me. What I wished particularly to say to you was about +the inquest. They can't call it for tomorrow--that is, today--Monday; +but I think they are sure to hold it on Tuesday. If I am not back"---- + +"What inquest?" interrupted Mark, wonderingly. + +"The inquest on Lady Oswald." + +"My goodness! Do you think they'll get up an inquest over her?" + +"Of course they will. What are you dreaming of? The remote cause of +her death was the accident to the train. I am not quite sure of being +back. I expect to be home on Tuesday morning early; but it is possible +I may be detained a little longer. If I am not back, Mark, you will be +the only witness--at least the only one who can speak to the facts of +the death. Let me advise you to say as little as possible. Volunteer +no information; answer their questions briefly; and don't get into a +long-winded narration, as you are apt to do, otherwise you may betray +yourself. You will not mistake me;" Dr. Davenal added. "I have always +been open, truthful, candid as the day; and if I so speak now it is in +your interest. I was thinking this over a great deal last evening +after I left you, and I see that it is essential for your good name in +your profession that the facts of the case should not be made known. +Do not suppose I advise you to a direct deviation from the truth; +nothing of the sort. 'Chloroform was exhibited with a view to lessen +her sufferings, and she never rallied from it,' is all you need say. +Similar cases are unhappily not unknown; I fear not very uncommon; and +the coroner will not be likely to exact minute particulars, or inquire +whether you gave it her, or whether I did. He will assume that we +acted in concert." + +Mark Cray nodded. He was nervously and incessantly pushing back his +hair. + +"I know how fond you are of talking," resumed Dr. Davenal, "therefore +I deemed it well to give you this caution. To tell you the truth, I +had rather not be at the inquest, and shall not be sorry if I can't +get back." + +"Are you going away on purpose?" suddenly asked Mark, who was much +given to leap to conclusions. + +"Certainly not. I am going on an important matter of my own. Look +here, Mark Cray: one good turn deserves another. It will be concluded +in the town that I am called to a patient at a long distance: as I +have been before, you know, and detained out two or three days. People +will be sure to think it now, and there's no necessity to undeceive +them. You will oblige me in this. I don't want the town to concern +itself with my private affairs: let people think I am with a patient. +They don't know to the contrary at home." + +"I shan't say anything to the contrary," said Mark. "Let people think +what they will; they are a set of busybodies at the best." + +Dr. Davenal departed. And Mr. Cray went back to his room, sleepy +still, but wondering in the midst of it what could have called away +the doctor suddenly to a distance. No letter could have arrived in the +middle of the night, Mark argued: and a suspicion crossed his mind +that he was, in spite of his denial, going away to avoid the inquest. + +The doctor walked over to the station, there to await the train. He +had given this caution, as to Mark's testimony at the inquest, +entirely in his good feeling towards him, his solicitude for his +welfare. For himself, he did hope he should not be back for it. +Inconvenient questions might be asked, and he did not relish the idea +of standing up and avowing that he had so far helped on Lady Oswald's +death as to have joined in giving her the chloroform; he could not +avow it without testifying to a deliberate falsehood: yet he must do +it, or betray Mark Cray. But he had a matter of greater importance to +think of than the inquest: a matter that was weighing down his heart +with its dread. Of all the passengers that train contained, soon to be +whirling on its way to Merton, not one had the sickening care to +battle with that was distracting the flourishing and envied physician. + +The first to enter the breakfast-room that morning at his residence +was his sister. The meal was always laid in the dining-room. Miss +Davenal wore her usual morning costume, a gown of that once +fashionable but nearly obsolete material called nankin--or nankeen, as +some spell it. It was not made up fashionably, but in the old scant +style, and it made Miss Davenal's tall spare form look taller and +sparer. She wore it for breakfast only, generally dressing for the day +as soon as the meal was over. Sara followed, in a flowing dress of +delicate sprigged muslin, and she took her seat at once at the +breakfast-table. + +"Is your papa out of his room yet, do you know?" + +"I have not seen him," replied Sara, a faint red tinging her pale face +at the half-evasive answer. Very pale she looked: ominously pale. Had +Miss Bettina been gifted with preternatural penetration, she might +have detected that some great dread was upon her. + +But Miss Bettina was on that morning especially self-occupied. On the +previous Saturday Dr. Davenal had told her that certain country +friends were coming into Hallingham on that day, Monday, and he should +invite them to dinner; or else that he had invited them: in her +deafness she did not catch which. She had replied by asking him what +he would have for dinner, and he said they would settle all that on +Monday morning. Monday morning was now come; and Miss Bettina, a +punctilious housekeeper, choosing to have everything in order and to +treat visitors liberally, was on the fidget to make the arrangements, +and waited impatiently for Dr. Davenal Watton, a fidget also in the +domestic department, liking at any rate to get her orders in time, had +come in with Miss Davenal. + +Miss Davenal rang the bell: an intimation to Neal that they were ready +for the coffee. She turned to the table, and the first thing that +struck her sharp eyes in its arrangements was, that only two breakfast +cups were on it. + +"What is Neal thinking of this morning?" she exclaimed. + +"I don't fancy my master is stirring yet," observed Watton. "I have +not heard him." + +"Nonsense!" returned her mistress. "When did you ever know your master +not stirring at eight o'clock?" + +"Not often, ma'am, it's true," was Watton's answer. "But it might +happen. I know he was disturbed in the night." + +Sara glanced up with a half-frightened glance. She dropped her head +again, and began making scores on the cloth with her silver fork. + +"It was the oddest thing," began Watton--and she was speaking in the +low clear tones which made every word distinct to Miss Davenal. "Last +night I was undressing with the blind up, without a candle, for the +moon was light as day, when I saw a man turn in at the gate, and I +said to myself, 'Here comes somebody bothering for master!' He made a +spring to the side, and crouched himself amid the laurels that skirt +the rails by the lane, and stopped there looking at the house. 'Very +strange!' I said to myself again; 'that's not the way sick folk's +messengers come in.' After a minute he walked on, brushing close to +the shrubs, afraid I suppose of being seen, and I heard him tap at the +window of the doctor's consulting-room. Ma'am, if ever I thought of a +robber in my life, I thought of one then, and if it hadn't been for my +presence of mind, I should have rose the house with my screams"---- + +"Be silent, Watton!" sharply interrupted Miss Davenal. "Look there! +You are frightening her to death." + +She had extended her finger, pointing at Sara. Sara, her face more +like death than life, in its ghastly whiteness, was gazing at Watton, +her eyes strained, her lips apart, as one under the influence of some +great terror. Was she afraid of what might be coming? It looked so. + +"There's nothing to be alarmed at, Miss Sara"---- + +"Don't tell it; don't tell it," gasped Sara, putting up her hands. "It +does frighten me." + +"But indeed there is nothing to be frightened at, as you'll hear, Miss +Sara," persisted the woman. "It's a fact that I was a little +frightened myself; one does hear of housebreakers getting into houses +in so strange a manner; and I went out of my room and leaned over the +banisters and listened. It was all right, for I heard the doctor open +the hall door and take the man into his consulting-room, and shut +himself in with him. How long the man stopped, and who he was, I can't +tell; he did not go away while I was awake--but, ma'am, that's how I +know my master was disturbed in the night." + +"Watton!"--and as Sara spoke her cheeks became crimson, her voice +imperative,--"do you deem it lies in your service here to watch the +movements of your master, and to comment upon them afterwards?" + +The moment the words had left her lips she felt how unwise they were; +but she had so spoken in her perplexity, her soreness of heart. Watton +turned her eyes on her young mistress in sheer amazement. + +"Watch my master's movements! Why, Miss Sara, you can't think I'd do +such a thing. I watched to--if I may so express it--protect my master; +to protect the house, lest harm should be meant it. Decent folk don't +come in at night as that man came in." + +Neal had entered, and was disposing his eatables on the table. Miss +Davenal drew his attention to the shortness of the cups. + +"It is quite right; ma'am. The doctor went out in the middle of the +night; at least about two in the morning; and he charged me to tell +you he should not be at home all day; perhaps not all night. Nobody is +to sit up for him." + +"Where's he gone?" asked Miss Bettina. + +Neal could not tell. His master had said he was going to a distance. +But Miss Bettina could not make it out at all, and she asked question +upon question. How had he gone?--the carriage was not out. Walked away +on foot, and said he was going to a distance, and might not be home +for a day and a night? It was the most mysterious, extraordinary +proceeding she ever heard of. "Did you see or hear anything of a +strange man coming in in the night?" she asked of Neal. + +"No, ma'am," replied Neal, with his usual impassability. "I see my +master's bed has not been slept in; and he has taken an overcoat with +him." + +Sara lifted her burning face. It was as one stricken with fever. + +"Let it rest; let it rest, Aunt Bettina! Wait until papa is home, and +ask particulars of _him_. If patients require him at a distance, it is +his duty to go to them." + +The last words were spoken defiantly; not at her aunt, but at the +servants. She felt on the very verge of desperation. What disastrous +consequences might not this proclamation of the night's work bring +forth! + +"Let it rest!" retorted Miss Bettina. "Yes, that is what you young and +careless ones would like to do. Look at my position! The responsible +mistress of this house, and left at an uncertainty whether people are +coming to dinner or whether they are not. Your papa must have gone +clean out of his wits to go off and not leave word." + +"You can fix upon a dinner as well as papa can, Aunt Bettina." + +"Fix upon a dinner! It's not that. It is the not knowing whether +there's to be a dinner fixed upon; whether people are invited, or not, +to eat it." + +When Miss Davenal was put out about domestic arrangements, it took a +great deal to put her in again. Neal and Watton were questioned and +cross-questioned as to the events of the night, and breakfast was got +over in a commotion. Sara shivered with a nameless fear, and wondered +whether that dreadful secret might not become known. + +A secret which bore for Sara Davenal all the more terror from the fact +that she was but imperfectly acquainted with its nature. Dr. Davenal +had seen fit for certain reasons to call her down to his room, and she +had there seen the ominous visitor: but the particulars had been kept +from her. That there existed a secret, and a terrible one, which might +burst at any hour over their heads, bringing with it disgrace as well +as misery, she had been obliged to learn; but its precise nature she +was not told; was not allowed, it may be said, to guess at. Dr. +Davenal so far spared her. He spared her from the best of motives, +forgetting that suspense is, of all human pain, the worst to bear. + +With the exception of what that little note told her, which she saw +lying inside her door when she rose in the morning, she knew nothing +of the motives of her father's journey; where he had gone, or why he +had gone. She only knew it was imperative that that night's visit to +the house should remain a secret, uncommented upon, unglanced at. And +now the servants knew of it--had seen the stranger come in--might talk +about it indoors and out! No wonder that Sara Davenal shivered!--that +she grew sick at heart! + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +GOING DOWN TO THE FUNERAL. + + +The commotion in the town rose that morning to its height: it equalled +the commotion at Miss Davenal's breakfast-table. But not from the same +exciting cause. The one was led to by the curious absence of Dr. +Davenal; the other had its source in the death of Lady Oswald. + +She had lived so long amongst them--had been, so to say, the head of +the social and visiting community of Hallingham! A great lady once, +the Lady Oswald of Thorndyke. Had she died in the common course of +nature, after weeks or months of illness, it would still have created +a stir; but to have died from the inhaling of chloroform consequent +upon the railway accident, did cause very great and unwonted +excitement. People were shocked at her death: they mourned for the +somewhat eccentric old lady who had been seen driven through their +streets in her close carriage for years; but they never cast so much +as a shadow of reproach towards the doctors who might be said to be, +however unwittingly, the authors of it. They railed at the chloroform, +calling it uncertain, dangerous stuff; but not the slightest +reflection was thrown on the judgment which had caused her to inhale +it. + +Mark Cray was beset with questions and remarks, especially from his +medical brethren in the town. In Dr. Davenal's absence, people flew to +him for particulars. He remembered the doctor's caution, and said as +little as possible. It was an unpleasant subject to speak of, he +observed to them--they could understand that. But the curious +questioners only understood it partially, and rather wondered why Mr. +Cray should be so chary of his information. + +The inquest took place on the Tuesday, as Dr. Davenal had surmised it +would. It was held quite as a matter of course--not with a view to +elicit the cause of death; that was already known--simply because the +law rendered an inquest obligatory. + +The doctor was not back for it, and Mr. Cray was the principal +witness. The operation had been most satisfactorily performed by Dr. +Davenal, he testified, but Lady Oswald did not rally from the effects +of the chloroform. They had tried every means to arouse her without +result. The coroner presumed the chloroform had been administered with +all due caution: he felt persuaded it would be by so experienced a +surgeon as Dr. Davenal. Certainly, was the answer of Mark Cray. It was +given her with the best of motives: to spare her acute suffering: and +no one could more bitterly regret the result than they did. It was +impossible to foresee, he continued, that this great blessing--yes, he +must still call it so--to suffering humanity, which had spared anguish +to thousands, perhaps he might say had spared lives, would have an +opposite effect upon Lady Oswald, and bring death to her instead of +relief. He had never for one moment in his own judgment doubted the +expediency of giving it to her: were the thing to come over again (the +result being hidden from him) he should do the same. + +Not a word that Mark Cray said but had its weight, and was +appreciated. The death was regarded as a pure misfortune, a sort of +accident that could not be prevented by poor human foresight, and for +which blame was attachable to no one. And the verdict was in +accordance with this. + +The only one on whom the facts were yet destined to make an unpleasant +and not satisfactory impression was Mr. Oswald Cray The first +intimation of Lady Oswald's death reached him through the "Times" +newspaper. As junior in the firm, he lived in the house in Parliament +Street, the senior partners preferring residences out of town. The +chief part of the house was devoted to their business purposes, and +Mr. Oswald Cray had but two or three rooms for his private use. On the +Thursday morning, the "Times" was brought to him as usual while he was +at breakfast. It was folded with the supplement outside, the deaths +uppermost; and on putting it aside to open the more important parts +his eye caught the word Oswald. + +He looked further: and nothing could exceed his surprise. He gazed at +the announcement with a feeling of disbelief, almost as though he was +in a dream: "At her residence in Hallingham, Susan Hannah Lady Oswald, +aged seventy-one, widow of Sir John Oswald Thorndyke." + +The date of her death, probably by an oversight, had not been put in, +and Oswald Cray was left to conjecture it. Certainly he did not +suppose it had occurred so far back as on the previous Sunday, the day +after he left Hallingham. + +What had killed her? The accident? He had been given to understand +that night that she was not materially injured: he now supposed she +must have been. Why had nobody written to acquaint him? He would have +been glad to see her for a final farewell; would have thought nothing +of his time and trouble in going down for it. Mark might have written: +he could not remember having corresponded with Mark in all his life, +half-brothers though they were; but still Mark might have gone out of +his way to drop him a line now. Parkins might have written; in fact he +considered it was Parkins' duty to have written, and he should tell +her so: and Dr. Davenal might have written. Of the three mentioned, +Oswald Cray would soonest have expected the doctor to write, and the +omission struck him as being somewhat singular. + +The post brought news. Amidst the mass of letters that came for the +firm was one to himself, He saw the Hallingham postmark, and opened +it at once. + +A look of blank disappointment, mingled with surprise, settled on his +face as he read. It was not from Dr. Davenal, from Mark Cray, or from +Parkins; it gave him no details, any more than if he had been the +greatest stranger to Lady Oswald. It was a formal intimation from the +undertaker that her late ladyship's funeral would take place on Friday +at eleven o'clock, and requesting his attendance at it, if convenient. + +"Her funeral tomorrow!" ejaculated Oswald. "Then she must have died +almost immediately. Perhaps the very night I came up. Why couldn't +somebody write?" + +He arranged business matters so as to go down that afternoon, and +arrived at Hallingham between six and seven o'clock. Giving his +portmanteau to a porter, he went on to his usual place of sojourn, the +"Apple Tree." It was near to the terminus, a little beyond the town, +one of the quiet country inns now nearly obsolete. An old-fashioned, +plain, roomy house, whose swinging sign-board stood out before its +door, and whose productive garden of vegetables and fruit stretched +out behind it. No fashionable person would look at it twice. Oswald +Cray had been recommended to it long ago as his place of sojourn in +Hallingham, where his stay seldom lasted more than two days: and he +had found himself so comfortable, so quiet, so entirely at home, that +he would not have exchanged it for the grandest hotel in Hallingham, +had the said hotel graciously intimated that it would receive him for +nothing. + +The host, whose name was John Hamos, came forward to receive him; a +respectable, worthy man, with a portly person and red face, who might +be seen occasionally in a white apron washing up glasses, and who +waited on his guests himself. He and Oswald were the best of friends. + +"Good-evening, sir. My wife said you'd be down tonight or in the +morning. We were sure you'd attend the burying. A sad thing, sir, is +it not?" + +"It is a very sad thing, John," returned Oswald; "I seem as if I could +not believe it. It was only this morning that I received the tidings. +What did she die of? The accident to the train?" + +"No, sir, she didn't die of that. Leastways, that was not the +immediate cause of death, though of course it must be said to have led +to it. She died from the effects of chloroform." + +"Died from--what did you say?" asked Oswald, staring at the man. + +"From chloroform, sir." + +"From chloroform!" he repeated, "I don't understand." + +And he looked as if he did not. As if it were impossible to take in +the words or their sense. John Hamos continued. + +"It seems, sir, that on the Sunday it was discovered that her ladyship +had sustained some internal injury--to the ribs, I believe, or +near-abouts--and she had to submit to an operation. Chloroform was +given her while it was performed, and she never rallied from it." + +"Who gave her the chloroform?" + +"Dr. Davenal" + +"Dr. Davenal!" echoed Mr. Oswald Cray, and his accent of astonishment +was so great, so unmistakable, that the landlord looked at him in +surprise. "Why, he--he----" + +"What, sir?" + +Oswald had brought his words to a sudden stand-still. His face was one +picture of doubt, of bewilderment. + +"It could not have been Dr. Davenal." + +"Yes it was, sir," repeated John Hamos. "Who else would be likely to +undertake the operation but him? He and Mr. Cray were together, but it +was the doctor who performed it. As of course it would be." + +"But he did not give the chloroform?" + +"Why, yes he did, sir. He gave it for the best. As was said afterwards +at the inquest, they could not possibly foresee that what saved pain +and was a blessing to thousands, would prove fatal to her ladyship." + +"Who said that at the inquest? Dr. Davenal?" + +"Mr. Cray, sir. The doctor wasn't present at the inquest; he was away +from the town. He went away in the night, somebody said, just after +the death: was fetched out to some patient at a distance, and didn't +get back here till--Wednesday morning, I think it was." + +"And she never rallied from the chloroform?" + +"Never at all, sir. She died under it." + +Oswald Cray said no more. He went up to the bedroom that he always +used, there to wash off some of the travelling dust. But instead of +proceeding at once to do so, he stood in thought with folded arms and +bent brow, John Hamos's information respecting the chloroform +troubling his brain. + +Why should it trouble him? Could not he believe, as others did, that +it was given in all due hope and confidence, according to the best +judgment of the surgeons? No, he could not believe it, so far as +regarded the chief surgeon, Dr. Davenal: and the reason was this. + +On the night of the accident, when Dr. Davenal jumped into the +carriage that was about to proceed to the scene, he jumped into a seat +by the side of Oswald Cray. They entered into conversation, and the +topic of it was, not unnaturally, accidents in general. It led to the +subject of chloroform, and Dr. Davenal expressed his opinion upon that +new-fashioned aid to science just as freely as he afterwards expressed +it to Mark Cray. + +How strange are the incidents, the small events that shape the course +of human destiny. But for that accidental conversation--and may it not +be called accidental?--half the trouble that is about to be related +never would have taken place. And the cruel shadow, that was waiting +to spread its wings over the days of more than one wayfarer on the +path of life, would have found no spot to darken with its evil. + +Dr. Davenal spoke his opinion freely to Oswald Cray with regard to +chloroform. He did not deny its great boon, sparing pain to many whose +sufferings would otherwise be almost intolerable; but he said that +there were some few to whom he would as soon give poison as +chloroform, for the one would be just as fatal as the other. And he +instanced Lady Oswald. + +The unfortunate fact of Lady Oswald being in the disabled train to +which they were hastening, possibly one of its wounded, no doubt +suggested her name to Dr. Davenal as his example. There were other +people whom he attended--a slight few--to whom he deemed chloroform +would be as pernicious as to Lady Oswald: but she was in question, as +it were, that night, and he cited her. There must have been some +fatality in it. + +"She is one, if I am any judge, who could not bear it; who would be +almost certain not to survive its effects," were the words he used to +Oswald. "I would as soon give Lady Oswald a dose of poison as suffer +her to come near chloroform." + +The words, spoken to Oswald only, not to the other inmates of the +carriage who were busy talking on their own score, had not made any +particular impression upon him at the time, but they returned to his +memory now with awakened force. He asked himself what it could mean. +Dr. Davenal had distinctly told him, or equivalent to it, that the +inhaling of chloroform would be as poison to Lady Oswald; he was now +assured by John Hamos that, not four-and-twenty hours subsequent to +that conversation, he, Dr. Davenal, had himself administered +chloroform to her. And the result was death. Death--as Dr. Davenal had +expressed his firm conviction it would be. + +Mr. Oswald Cray could only come to the conclusion that there must be +some mistake in the statement of the facts to him. It was impossible +to arrive at any other conclusion. That there was no mistake on his +own part, as to the opinion expressed to him by the doctor, he knew; +he recalled the very words in which it was spoken; spoken deliberately +and elaborately; not a mere allusion or sentence. About that there was +no doubt; but he felt that a mistake must lie somewhere. The +chloroform could not have been given by Dr. Davenal; perhaps he had +not even been present at the operation. + +He quitted the "Apple Tree," and bent his steps to Lady Oswald's. +Parkins came to him in a burst of grief. Parkins was--it has been said +so before--genuinely grieved at her lady's death, and it showed itself +chiefly by breaking into a shower of tears with every fresh person she +saw. One of the first questions put to her by Mr. Oswald Cray was as +to her not having written to inform him of the death. He wished to +know why she had not. + +"I don't know why, sir," she sobbed, "except that I have been +bewildered ever since it happened. I have been as one out of my mind, +sir, with the shock and the grief. I'm sure I beg your pardon for the +neglect, but it never so much as struck me till yesterday, when the +undertaker was here about the funeral. He asked who was to be invited +to it, and then it came into my mind that you ought to have been wrote +to, but I said perhaps Mr. Cray had done it." + +"Well, sit down while you talk, Parkins," he said in a kind tone. "I +can understand that you have been very much shocked by it. Are any of +Lady Oswald's relatives here?" + +"There's that nephew of hers, sir, the parson; the poor gentleman that +she'd send a little money to sometimes. He heard of it accidental, he +says, and came off at once with his brother. They got here this +morning. Very nice people, both of them, sir, but they seem poor. They +think no doubt that my lady's money is left to them, as I daresay it +is. She----" + +"I wish to ask you a question or two about the death, Parkins," he +interrupted in a pointed manner. None could check undue topics with +more dignity than he. "When was it discovered that Lady Oswald was +seriously injured?" + +"Not until the Sunday, sir. When Mr. Cray came home with her here on +the return from Hildon, he wanted to examine into her state, but she +was very obstinate, and persisted in saying she'd not be touched that +night; that she wasn't hurt. I fancy Dr. Davenal thought it was wrong +of Mr. Cray not to have insisted upon it--but Mr. Cray himself did not +think there was any grave injury: he told me so then. The next morning +I thought they'd both be here, Dr. Davenal and Mr. Cray; but Mr. Cray +came alone, the doctor it appeared had been sent for to Thorndyke----" + +"To Thorndyke?" involuntarily interrupted Oswald. + +"Yes, sir, somebody was ill there. However, he, the doctor, was back +and up here in the afternoon. He had seen Mr. Cray, and he came to +examine into her state for himself: for it had been discovered then +that she was worse injured than they thought. At first my lady said +she'd not submit to the operation, which Mr. Cray had already told her +must take place; but Dr. Davenal talked to her, and she consented, and +they fixed half-past five in the afternoon. Have you heard how she +died, sir?" broke off Parkins abruptly. + +"I have heard since I got here this evening that she died from the +effects of chloroform." + +"And so she did, sir. And it's a thing that I shall never understand +to my dying day." + +Parkins spoke the last words with a vehemence that superseded the +sobs. Mr. Oswald Cray thought he did not understand it either; but he +did not say so. + +"In what way don t you understand it?" he asked quietly. + +"How it was they came to give her the chloroform. I am quite certain, +sir, that up to the very moment that the operation was ready to be +begun, there was no thought of chloroform. It was not as much as +mentioned, and if any chloroform had been in the room amidst the +preparations, I must have seen it." + +"Were you present during the operation?" + +"I was to have been present, sir; but at the last moment I fainted +dead off, and had to be taken from the room. We knew no more, any of +us, till it was all over. Then we were called to by the gentlemen, and +told what was the matter: that my lady was sinking under the influence +of the chloroform they had administered, and could not be rallied from +it. And, a few minutes after, she died." + +Oswald Cray remained for some moments silent. "Was it Dr. Davenal who +administered it?" he resumed. + +"No doubt it was, sir; they were together. It was Dr. Davenal who +performed the operation. My lady said nobody should do it but Mr. +Cray, and it was settled that it should be done by him; but I suppose +they thought at last it would be better to entrust it to the doctor. +Anyway, it was he who performed it." + +"What did Dr. Davenal--did Dr. Davenal say anything about the +chloroform afterwards, or why they had used it?" + +"He didn't say much, sir. He said what had been done was done for the +best: but he seemed dreadfully cut up. And so did Mr. Cray. The +strangest thing to me is, why they used chloroform, when I saw no +signs of their attempting to use it." + +"But they must have had it with them?" + +"Well, of course they must, sir. It was not produced, though, while I +was there. They said my lady grew agitated--it was Mr. Cray said +that--that my falling down helped to agitate her; but it will take a +great deal to make me believe there was any _need_ for them to use +chloroform. It has cost a good lady her life; I know that. She had her +little tempers and her fidgety ways, poor dear lady, but she was one +of the best of mistresses. It's just as if they had done it to kill +her." + +Did the words grate on the ear of Oswald Cray?--as though they bore +all too significant a meaning. Not yet; not quite yet. This testimony +of the maid's had confirmed beyond doubt that Dr. Davenal had been the +chief and acting surgeon: how then reconcile that fact with the +opinion expressed to him not many hours before the death? He could not +tell; he could not think; he could not account for it by any reasoning +of any sort, subtle or simple. He was as one in a mazy dream, seeing +nothing distinctly. + +When he quitted the house, he turned again and bent his steps to the +Abbey. Possibly he deemed Mark could solve his difficulties. Mark was +not in, however, when he got there, only Caroline. + +Mrs. Cray was in the large drawing-room. She and the tea-table, at +which she sat waiting for Mark, looked quite lost in its space. The +thought struck Oswald as he entered. It had been the home of his early +childhood, the scene of occasional visits since that period, but +Oswald always thought that room larger and larger every time he +entered it. It was at its window that he, a baby in arms, had been +held by the side of his mother, when the grand people from Thorndyke +in their carriage and four, _her_ father and mother, would drive past +and cast up their faces of stone. He had been too young to know +anything then, but afterwards, when he could begin to understand, +these stories of the passing by of Sir Oswald Oswald were impressed +upon him by his nurse. They remained amidst his most vivid +recollections. But that he knew it was impossible to have been so--for +his mother had died when he was too young, and there was no more +standing there after her death to watch for Sir Oswald--he could have +affirmed now that he remembered those times in all their full detail: +the steady pace of the fine horses, the bedizened carriage--in those +days it was the fashion to have carriages bedizened--the servants in +their claret liveries, the impassive faces of Sir Oswald and his lady. +The fact was, it had all been described so often and minutely to the +young child Oswald, that it remained on his memory as a thing seen, +not heard. + +Mrs. Cray, gay in attire, wearied in countenance, was quite alone. She +wore a low evening dress of blue silk, with lace and fringes and +trimmings; and blue ribbons in her hair. Rather more dress than is +necessary for a quiet evening at home; but she was young and pretty +and a bride, and--very fond of finery in any shape. Her weary face +lighted up with smiles as she saw Oswald and rose to greet him: very, +very pretty did she look then. + +"I am so glad to see you! I had grown tired, waiting for Mark. He went +out the moment he had swallowed his dinner--before he had swallowed +it, I think--and he is not in yet. Shall I tell you a secret, Oswald?" + +"Yes, if you please." + +"I am quite disappointed. I shan't at all like being a doctor's wife." + +Her dark blue eyes were dancing with smiles as she spoke. Oswald +smiled too--at the joke. + +"It is true, Mr. Oswald Cray. I don't speak against my own dear Mark: +I'd not part with _him_: but I do wish he was not a doctor. You don't +know how little I see of him. He is in just at meals, and not always +to them." + +Oswald smiled still. "You had lived in a doctor's house, Mrs. Cray, +and knew the routine of it." + +"My uncle's house was not like this. Who can compare the great Dr. +Davenal at the top of the tree, waiting at home for his patients to +come to him, to poor Mark Cray at the bottom, just beginning to climb +it? It's not the same thing, Mr. Oswald Cray. Mark has to be out, here +and there and everywhere. At the Infirmary, dancing attendance on +interminable rows of beds one hour; in some obscure corner of the town +another, setting somebody's leg, or watching a case of fever. Mark +says it won't go on quite as bad as it has begun. This has been an +unusually busy week with him, owing to the doctor's absence. He left +home on Sunday night, and was not back until Wednesday. A great +portion of Sunday also the doctor passed at Thorndyke." + +"His patient must have been very ill to keep him away from Sunday +until Wednesday," remarked Oswald. + +"To tell you the truth," said Caroline, dropping her voice in a manner +that sounded rather mysterious, "we don't think he was with a patient. +We can't quite make out why he went or where he went. He came here in +the middle of the night and rang up Mark. It was the night subsequent +to Lady Oswald's death--oh, Oswald! was not her death a shocking +thing?" + +"Very," was the answer, gravely spoken. + +"When Mark came home that Sunday evening and told me Lady Oswald was +dead, I cannot describe to you how I felt. At first I could not +believe it; and then I went--I went into hysterics. It was very +foolish of course, for hysterics do no good, but I could not help it. +You have come down to attend the funeral tomorrow, I suppose?" + +"Yes." + +"Well--I was telling you about my uncle. He came here in the middle of +the night and rang up Mark, who went down to him. When Mark came +upstairs again, he said Dr. Davenal was going away on some private +errand which he had made a sort of secret of to Mark. I fancy Mark was +only half-awake and did not hear him clearly; all he understood was, +that the doctor was going somewhere by train unexpectedly; and Mark +was to let it be assumed in the town that he was visiting a patient at +a distance. Mark declared that he believed the doctor was only +absenting himself to avoid attending the coroner's inquest." + +"Why should Mark think that?--Why should Dr. Davenal wish to avoid +attending it?" reiterated Oswald, strangely interested, he scarcely +knew why. + +"I cannot tell you. I fancy the admission slipped from Mark +inadvertently, for he would not say a syllable more. The next day, +Monday, I saw Sara. I asked her point-blank where my uncle had gone, +remarking that there seemed to be some little mystery connected with +it, and she turned as white as the grave and whispered to me not to +talk so, to hold my tongue for the love of Heaven. You'll take some +tea, won't you; Oswald? I shall be so glad of an excuse for making +it." + +Oswald, almost mechanically, said he would take some, and she rang the +bell for the urn. He began to think all this strange and more strange; +to ask himself: what it tended to. Dr. Davenal had gone away to avoid +the inquest?--and his daughter when spoken to upon the subject had +turned as white as the grave? What did it mean? + +"Do you know the particulars of Lady Oswald's death?" he inquired as +he stirred his tea. + +"Yes. Don't you! She died from chloroform. They deemed it necessary to +give it her, and she never rallied from it." + +"Who gave it to her? Which of them?" + +"Which of them?" repeated Caroline, lifting her eyes, thinking no +doubt the question a superfluous one. "They were both present; they +would act in concert one with the other. If you mean to cast blame on +them, Oswald, I should say you must cast it conjointly. But they acted +for the best." + +"I do not cast blame on them," he answered. "I don't understand the +affair sufficiently yet to cast blame anywhere. It is a riddle to me." + +"What is a riddle?" + +"How Dr.--how they came to use chloroform at all." + +"Why, it is in almost universal use now!" exclaimed Mrs. Cray, +surprised at the remark. "There is no riddle in that." + +Oswald did not press it. In his opinion there _was_ a riddle; one he +began to think would not be easy of solution. He finished his tea in +silence. By and by Mrs. Cray resumed. + +"Mark seems not to like to talk of it. I asked him a great many +questions, as was natural, but he put me off, saying I should be +falling into hysterics again. I told him that was nonsense, now the +shock was over; but he would not talk of it, seemed quite to wince +when I pressed it. It was not a pleasant subject for him, he said. And +of course it is not: and still less so for my uncle, whose authority +sways Mark. However good their intentions were, it did kill her." + +"Will Mark be long, do you suppose?" inquired Oswald, breaking another +long pause. + +"As if I could tell, Oswald! I have been expecting him every minute +this hour past. When I grumble at Mark for staying out so, he tells me +I must blame his patients. Nay, but you are not going yet?" she added, +as he rose. "Mark is sure to be in soon." + +"I cannot well stay longer now," he answered. "I shall see Mark in the +morning. I suppose he attends the funeral?" + +"Of course he will. They will both attend it. I wish you would not +hurry away!" + +He repeated his apology, and Caroline rang the bell. In point of fact +he wanted to call on Dr. Davenal. + +Scarcely had the servant closed the door on Mr. Oswald Cray than he +met his brother. Mark was coming along at a quick pace. + +"Oswald, is it you? Have you been to the Abbey?" + +"I have been taking tea with your wife, and waiting for you. She is +nearly out of patience. Mark!" he continued, passing his arm within +his brother's and leading him a few steps away while he talked, "what +a shocking thing this is about Lady Oswald!" + +"Ay, it is that. So unexpected. Won't you come in?" + +"Not again tonight. I want to know, Mark, how it was that chloroform +was given to her!" + +"If we had not deemed it for the best, we should not have given it," +was Mark's answer. + +"But--surely Dr. Davenal did not deem it would be for the best?" + +Mark turned and looked at him: a quick, sharp glance. "What do you +know about it?" he asked. + +"I? I know nothing about it: I want to know," replied Oswald, thinking +the remark strange. "I wish you would give me the full particulars, +Mark. I cannot understand--I have a reason for not being able to +understand--why chloroform should have been given to Lady Oswald----" + +"We use chloroform very much now," interrupted Mark. + +"Why it should have been given to _Lady Oswald_," went on Oswald, with +pointed emphasis. + +"It was given to her as it is given to others--to deaden pain." + +"Who performed the operation?" + +"The doctor." + +There was a pause. When Oswald Cray broke it his voice was low, his +manner hesitating. "Mark, will you pardon me if I ask you a peculiar +question?--Do you believe from your very heart that when Dr. Davenal +administered that chloroform to Lady Oswald he _did_ think it would be +for the best?" + +Hesitating as Oswald's manner had been. Mark's was worse. He grew on a +sudden flushed and embarrassed. + +"Won't you answer me, Mark?" + +"I--yes--of course we thought it would be for the best." + +"I asked, did _he_ think it?" + +Mark plunged into an untruth. Somewhat afraid of Oswald at the best of +times, conscious that he was of a far higher standard in moral and +intellectual excellence than himself, he desired to stand well with +him, to enjoy his good opinion; and perhaps there was not a single man +in Hallingham to whom Mark would not have preferred his unhappy +mistake in all its wilfulness to become known than to his brother. +They were also playing at cross-purposes: Oswald was seeking to learn +how far Dr. Davenal had been to blame. Mark believed it was his own +share of blame that was sought to be arrived at. + +"Yes, he thought it. Dr. Davenal would not use chloroform, or anything +else, unless he believed it would be beneficial," rapidly went on +Mark. "I never knew a man more successful in his treatment in a +general way than he." But for all the apparent readiness of the words, +they bore a certain evasion to Oswald's ears. + +"Tell me the truth, Mark; tell it me frankly," he rejoined. "Is there +not some--some secret--I don't know what else to call it--connected +with this business? Something _wrong_ about it!" + +For a moment Mark Cray had to deliberate. He was driven at bay by the +straightforward questions of his brother. And his brother saw the +hesitation. + +"Oswald, it is of no use to press me upon this matter. You will +readily conceive how sore a one it is to myself and to Dr. Davenal. +Had it been some poor rubbishing patient who had died through it, that +poor stoker at the Infirmary for instance, it would not have been of +so much account: but"---- + +"Be silent, Mark!" burst from Oswald with a flash of anger. "I will +not listen to such doctrine. The lives of the poor are every whit as +valuable as are the lives of the rich. You did not learn that from Dr. +Davenal." + +"What I meant was, that there'd not be half the public fuss," said +Mark, looking little, and doing his best to explain away the +impression given by his words. "I'm sure there _has_ been enough fuss +in the town since her death was known, but I have not heard of one +single person in it casting blame on us. Why should you seek to cast +it? Errors in judgment are committed now and then in medical practice, +just as they are in everything else and there's no help for it; they +happen to the very best of us. If we could see the end of a thing at +the beginning it would be different: but we can't. Could its effects +on Lady Oswald have been anticipated, we'd have seen chloroform in the +sea before it should have been given her. It was done for the best." + +"You think, then, that Dr. Davenal believed the giving it her would be +for the best?" persisted Oswald, after listening patiently to the +excited answer. + +Again came the perceptible hesitation in the manner of Mark; again the +flush of embarrassment rose to his cheek. Oswald noted it. + +"I am quite sure that all the doctor ever did for Lady Oswald he did +for the best," and Mark Cray plucked up courage and spirit as he said +it: "that night as well as other nights which had gone before it I +cannot think what you are driving at, Oswald." + +Oswald Cray determined to "drive" no more. He believed it would be +useless, so far as Mark was concerned. He could not quite make him +out: but he believed it would be useless. That there was something +concealed, something not quite open, he saw; Mark's manner alone would +have told him that: and he came rapidly to the conclusion that Mark +had been cognisant also of his partner's opinion of chloroform as +connected with Lady Oswald, and could not tell why he had tried it +upon her, but did suppose, in spite of the face of affairs, that he +had done it for the best. All Mark's embarrassment, his evasion, his +crusty unwillingness to speak frankly, Oswald set down to an anxiety +to screen Dr. Davenal from the reproach of imprudence. One more remark +he did make. It arose to his mind as he was about to depart, and he +spoke it on the spur of the thought. + +"I understand you fancy that Dr. Davenal absented himself from +Hallingham to avoid attending the coroner's inquest." + +"Where on earth did you hear that?" shouted Mark, with a stare of +surprise. + +"Your wife mentioned it to me just now." + +Mark Cray waxed wroth. "What idiots women are! The very best of them! +I shan't be able to think my own thoughts next. Caroline knows I did +not wish that repeated: it slipped from me without reflection." + +"It is quite safe with me, Mark. She looks upon me, I suppose, as one +of yourselves. But why should Dr. Davenal have wished not to attend +the inquest?" + +"Oh, for nothing, only he thought they'd be putting all sorts of +questions," carelessly replied Mark. "It was a disagreeable thing +altogether, and one of us was quite enough to attend. But, mind you, +Oswald, I don't really suppose he went for that: I make no doubt he +had business out." + +"Well, goodnight, Mark." + +"Goodnight. I wish you had come in." + +Mark Cray stepped on to his house, and let himself in with his +latch-key, thinking how much better the world would go on if women had +not been endowed with tongues, and wondering excessively what possessed +Oswald to be taking up the death of Lady Oswald and putting these +mysterious questions upon it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +THE INTERVIEW WITH THE DOCTOR. + + +Dr. Davenal was alone in his study, pacing the carpet with heavy +steps and a face that seemed to have all the care of the world marked +on it, when Mr. Oswald Cray was shown in. Oswald could not avoid being +struck with that expression of care; he had never seen the like upon +the countenance of Dr. Davenal. + +Turning his head, he looked at Oswald for the space of a minute as if +not recognising him. He was too deeply buried in his own thoughts +immediately to awake from them to everyday life. + +"Good-evening, Dr. Davenal." + +He took Oswald's outstretched hand, and was himself again. Oswald sat +down and the doctor too. But after a few words, he rose, apparently in +restlessness, and began to pace the room as before. + +"Are you in any grief, doctor?" + +"Well--yes I am," was the reply. "Or perhaps I should rather say in +vexation, for that is chiefly it. We have had a line from Edward by +the day post, and he expresses a doubt whether he shall be able to get +down to say farewell. These young soldiers grow careless of home ties, +Mr. Oswald Cray." + +"Not soldiers in particular, do they, sir? It is a reproach that can +be cast upon many others who live in the world." + +"And get enslaved by it. True." + +"I did not mean altogether that, Dr. Davenal. When does your son +sail?" + +"On Sunday morning, he says. He does not positively say he is not +coming down, only gives a hint that he fears he cannot. What did I do +with the letter?" continued the doctor, looking round. "I brought it +in with me after dinner. Oh, there it is," he added, seeing it on a +side table, and giving it to Oswald. "You can read what he says. Sara +won't mind. It is written for us all as well as for her, I expect +Edward was never a voluminous correspondent; his letters are generally +_pro bono publico_." + +Oswald saw it was addressed to Miss Sara Davenal, and began to read +it. It was dated the previous evening. + + +"My Darling Sister,--" +We are in all the bustle and hurry of the start. Orders have come at +last, and we embark from Southampton on Sunday morning. I _hope_ I +shall get down to you to say goodbye. I am not unmindful of my promise +to do so, and will do all I can to keep it; poor Dick used to tell me +that I knew how to break promises better than I knew how to make them, +but it shall not be my fault if you have to east that on me as a last +reproach. To absent one's-self, even for an hour, is a difficult task +now, but I will manage it, if possible. We have been worked off our +heads and legs for the last few days. + +"Love to all. I suppose Carry is fairly installed at the Abbey; wish +her all good luck for me.--Ever yours, in much haste, + +"E. F. Davenal." + + +"You see," said the doctor, halting and pointing to the letter, "he +emphasises the word 'hope.' 'I _hope_ I shall get down.' That very +fact is sufficient to tell me that he knows he shall not get down, and +these lines have been sent as a sort of preparation for the final +disappointment. And he is going out for years! But I won't blame him; +perhaps it is an impossibility to him to get away. He should have +remained longer when he came down for the wedding--have made it his +farewell visit. I said so then." + +Dr. Davenal began his walk to and fro again,--a very slow, thoughtful +walk. Oswald folded the letter and laid it on the table. + +"I have ever loved my children--I was going to say passionately, Mr. +Oswald Cray. I believe few parents can love as I have loved. I have +made--I have made sacrifices for them which the world little reeks of, +and anything like ingratitude touches me to the heart's core. But in +the midst of it I am the first to find excuses for them, and I say +that Edward may not be at all to blame in this." + +"I think it very likely that he is quite unable to get away, however +much he may wish it," observed Oswald. + +"I think so too. I say I don't blame him. Only one feels these +things." + +There ensued a silence. A feeling of dislike had come over Oswald (and +he could not trace it to any particular cause) to enter upon the +subject of Lady Oswald. But he was not one to give way to these +fanciful phases of feeling which appear to arise without rhyme or +reason, and he was about to speak when the doctor forestalled him. + +"Lady Oswald's death has brought you down, I presume?" + +"Yes. I was in ignorance of it until this morning, when a formal +invitation to attend the funeral reached me from the undertaker. I had +just read the announcement of the death in the 'Times.' How shocked I +was, I cannot well express to you." + +"It has shocked us all." + +"Of course its reaching me in that abrupt manner, in the public column +of deaths, did not tend to lessen the shock. I rather wonder you did +not drop me a line yourself, Dr. Davenal." + +"I was away afterwards. Called out to a distance, I did not get back +for a day or two. Did Mark not write?" + +"Nobody wrote. Neither Mark nor Parkins; nor anybody else. As to Mark, +he is careless as the wind; and Parkins excuses herself on the plea of +having been so bewildered. I can readily believe her. Dr. Davenal, she +died, as I am given to understand, from the effects of chloroform!" + +"We thought, on the night of the accident, you know, that she was not +seriously injured," said Dr. Davenal. "At least, Mark thought it: I +had my doubts: but I left him to see to her at her own desire. +Unfortunately I was called out early on Sunday morning. I was wanted +at Thorndyke: and when I got back the injury had been ascertained, and +an operation found necessary. It was under that operation she died." + +"But the operation was performed successfully?" + +"Quite so." + +"And what she died of was the inhaling of the chloroform?" + +"It was." + +"But--I cannot understand why chloroform should have been given to +her?" deliberately proceeded Oswald. + +"It _was_ given to her," was all the reply he obtained. + +"But--pardon me for recalling it to you, Dr. Davenal--do you remember +the very decided opinion you expressed to me, when we were going down +to the scene of accident, against giving chloroform to Lady Oswald? We +were speaking of its opposite effects upon different natures, and you +cited Lady Oswald as one to whom, in your opinion, it might prove +dangerous. You stated that, so far as you believed, it would be +neither better nor worse to her than poison." + +Oswald waited for a reply, but the doctor made none. He was pacing the +small room with his measured tread, his hands in his pockets, his eyes +bent on the carpet. + +"Have you any objection to explain to me this apparent contradiction? +It is impossible to believe that one, whose opinion of chloroform in +relation to her was so fatal, would in a few hours cause her to inhale +it." + +Dr. Davenal stopped in his walk and confronted Oswald. + +"Have you seen Mark since you came down?" + +"Yes." + +"And what does he say?" + +"Well, I don't fancy he understands it much better than I do. He +reiterates that it was given her for the best. In his opinion it may +have been. But it surely could not have been in yours, Dr. Davenal." + +Dr. Davenal turned from Oswald to his pacing again. A strong +temptation was upon him to tell Oswald the truth. O that he had! that +he had! + +There were few people in the world whom he esteemed as he esteemed +Oswald Cray. There was no one else in the world to whom he had +expressed this opinion of the unfitness of Lady Oswald as a subject +for chloroform, and the wish to explain, to exonerate himself, arose +forcibly within him. The next moment he asked himself why Mark Cray +himself had not spoken. As he had not, it seemed to Dr. Davenal that +it would be a breach of friendship, of _partnership_, for him to +speak. Oswald was connected, too, with Lady Oswald, and might take up +the matter warmly. No, he felt in his ever-considerate heart that he +could not betray Mark, could not set one brother against the other. +And he put the temptation from him. + +Oswald watched him as he walked, wondering at the silence. A silence +which the doctor evidently did not feel inclined to break. + +"Do you remember expressing this opinion to me, Dr. Davenal?" + +"Yes, I believe I did so express it." + +"And yet you acted in diametrical opposition to it immediately +afterwards, and caused Lady Oswald to inhale chloroform? Will you +forgive me for again asking how it could have been?" + +"The very best of us are led into error sometimes," replied Dr. +Davenal. + +"Why, that is one of the remarks Mark has just made to me in +connection with this case! I cannot recognise it as applying to it. +You spoke so firmly, so positively, that I should have believed there +was no room for error to creep in. I feel that there is something to +be explained, Dr. Davenal." + +Dr. Davenal wheeled round in his walk and confronted Oswald. + +"There are circumstances connected with this case, Mr. Oswald Cray, +which I cannot explain to the world; which I cannot explain even to +you; although I would rather tell them to you than to any one. Let it +suffice to know that _I could not save Lady Oswald_. It was not in my +power." + +"But you could have saved--you could have helped giving her the +chloroform?" returned Oswald, wonderingly. + +A slight pause. "Will you oblige me by asking no further questions on +the subject--by allowing it to drop, to me and to others? Believe me, +I have no selfish motive in pressing this. No one living can regret +more than I the fatal result to Lady Oswald; perhaps nobody regrets it +so keenly. Could I have saved her, no care, no skill, no labour, +should have been spared. But I could not. I can only ask you to be +satisfied with this meagre assurance, Mr. Oswald Cray and to believe +me when I state that I have private reasons for declining to pursue +the topic." + +"And--pardon me--one more question: To what am I to attribute her +death in my own mind? Or rather this giving of the chloroform?" + +"You must look upon it as an error in judgment. It was such." + +It was impossible for Oswald Cray, as a gentleman, to press further +the matter. Dr. Davenal was an old man compared with him; one of high +reputation, skill, position. He could not understand it, but he could +only bow to the request--nay, to the demand--and let the subject sink +into silence. An awkward pause ensued. The doctor had not resumed his +promenade, but stood under the gas-lamp, twirling a quill pen in his +fingers which he had taken up. + +"How are the other sufferers from the accident getting on?" inquired +Oswald, when the silence was beginning to be heard. + +"Oh, quite well. Poor Bigg the fireman is nearly the only one of them +left in the Infirmary, and he will soon be out of it. The rest came +off mostly with a few cuts and bruises. There's a summons for me, I +suppose." + +The doctor alluded to a knock at the hall-door. Neal came in. + +"Mr. Wheatley, sir. He wishes to know if you can spare him ten +minutes." + +"Yes," replied the doctor, and Oswald rose. + +"Will you walk upstairs and see them?" + +"Not tonight, thank you." + +"I won't press you," said the doctor. "Sara is cut up about this news +from Edward, terribly disappointed; and Aunt Bett is as cross as two +sticks. She is fond of Edward, with all her ungraciousness to him, and +she looks upon this hint of not coming down as a slight to herself. In +manner she was always ungracious to the boys, from some idea I believe +that it tended to keep them in order. But she loved them at heart. +Goodnight." + +Dr. Davenal clasped his hand with a warm pressure, warmer than usual; +Oswald could not but feel it, and he went out perfectly mystified. + +Neal stepped on to open the front gate. Neal was always remarkably +courteous and deferent to Mr. Oswald Cray. Oswald, who had only seen +the best side of Neal, and never suspected there was a reverse one, +looked upon him as a man to be respected, a faithful old retainer of +the Oswald family. Lady Oswald had sung his praises times out of +number in Oswald's ear, and she once told Oswald to try for Neal +should he ever require a servant about his person, for he would find +Neal a man of fidelity, worth his weight in gold. Oswald believed her. +He believed Neal to be faithful and true; one whom doubt could not +touch. + +"This death of your late mistress is a very sad thing, Neal." + +"O sir! I can't express to you how I have felt it. I'm sure I can say +that my lady was a true friend to me, the only one I had left." + +"No, no, Neal. Not the only one. You may count a friend in me--if only +in respect to the regard you were, I know, held in by Lady Oswald." + +"Thank you, sir, greatly;" and honest Neal's eyes swam in tears as he +turned them to Mr. Oswald Cray under the light of his master's +professional gas-lamp. "Sir," he added, swaying forward the gate and +dropping his voice as he approached nearer to Oswald, "how came that +poison, that chloroform, to be given to her?" + +"I cannot tell; I cannot understand," replied Oswald, speaking upon +impulse, not upon reflection. + +"Sir, if I might dare to say a word"--and Neal glanced round with +caution on all sides as he spoke--"I'd ask whether it was given in +fairness?" + +"What do you mean, Neal?" + +"There's not a person in the world I'd venture to whisper such a thing +to, sir, except yourself; but I doubt whether it _was_ given in +fairness. I have a reason for doubting it, sir; a particular reason. +It makes me sick, sir, to think that there was some unfair play +brought to work, and that it took her life." + +"Unfair play on the part of whom?" asked Oswald. + +"I am not sure that I dare say, sir, even to you. And it might be +looked upon as--as--fancy on my part. One thing is certain, sir, that +but for that chloroform being given to her, she'd be alive now." + +"Dr. Davenal and Mr. Cray gave the chloroform, Neal," observed Mr. +Oswald Cray, in a somewhat distant tone--for it was not to Neal he +would admit any doubt, scarcely condescend to hear any, of the +judgment of the surgeons. "They know better about such things than we +do." + +"Yes, sir," answered Neal, as drily as he dared. "Mr. Cray, I am sure, +did _his_ best, but he has not had the judgment and experience of my +master. Anyway, it seems it was the chloroform that killed her." + +"As it has killed others before her--when administered in all +deliberate judgment by surgeons of as high repute and practice as Dr. +Davenal. The issues of life and death are not even in a doctor's +hands, Neal. Goodnight." + +"Goodnight to you, sir." + +Oswald Cray walked slowly towards his temporary home, the "Apple +Tree," half bewildered with the conjectural views opened out to him, +and not the least with that last hint of Neal's. He could not get over +that giving of the chloroform by Dr. Davenal in the very teeth of his +expressed opinion against it. He had supposed, when he first heard of +the cause of death, that this contradiction would be explained away: +but, instead of that it was more unexplainable than before. There was +Mark's confused manner, his covert attempts to avoid inquiry; there +was Dr. Davenal's positive denial to satisfy it; there was the man +Neal's curious hint. Oswald Cray felt as one in a maze, trying to get +at something which eluded his grasp. + +How the imagination runs riot, how utterly unamenable it is to the +rules and regulations of sober control, we most of us know. + +Oswald found his mind balancing the question, "Did Richard Davenal +give that chloroform in his calm deliberate senses, believing that it +might take her life? If so, where was the motive?" Men don't do such +things in these days without a motive; the greatest criminal must have +_that_. Oswald Cray could see none. There was no motive, or shadow of +motive, for Dr. Davenal's wishing for the death of Lady Oswald. Quite +the contrary; it was his interest--if so worldly a plea may be brought +into proximity with these solemn thoughts--to keep her in life. Of all +his patients, she perhaps was the most profitable, paying him a good +sum yearly. Then--with the want of motive, those dark doubts, born of +his imagination, fell to the ground, and he had the good sense to see +that they did. + +They fell to the ground. And Oswald Cray, as he awoke with a start, +and shook himself clear of them, pinched his arms to see whether he +was awake. Surely only in his sleep could doubts such as those have +arisen of Dr. Davenal! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +THE WILL. + + +Sara Davenal in her sick restlessness was early in the +breakfast-room. The disappointment touching her brother was weighing +down her heart. Since the arrival of the unsatisfactory note the +previous evening, she had felt a conviction similar to Dr. Davenal's, +that Edward would not come. Neither had spoken of it to the other; +great griefs cannot be talked of; and to Sara this was a grief +inexpressible. It seemed that she would give half her remaining years +of life for only one five minutes' interview with him. + +If he came at all he would come today, Friday; and she got up, hoping +against hope; saying to herself aloud, in contradiction to the fear +lying upon her heart, and which she _would not_ glance at, "He will be +sure to come; he will never embark on that long voyage without first +coming. He will remember Richard's fate." For the time being, the +eager anxiety to see him almost seemed to deaden that other trouble +which lay within her--the trouble that had taken possession of her on +the Sunday night, never again to quit its tenement. + +"Is the post in?" asked Dr. Davenal, as he entered the breakfast-room. + +"No, it is not made," sharply replied Miss Davenal from her presiding +place at the table. "Neal has but this minute brought in the urn. I am +making it quickly as I can." + +"I asked whether the post was in, Bettina. Because, if Edward is not +coming, I should think there'd be a letter from him." + +Sara looked up eagerly. "Don't you hope he will come, papa? Don't you +think he will?" + +"Well, Sara, after his letter of last night, my hopes upon the point +are not very strong." + +"O papa! I want to see him! I must see him before he sails." + +"Hush, child!" She had spoken in a distressed tone, and her small +white hands were trembling. "Agitating yourself will not bring him." + +By and by the letters came in: two. Neal handed one to his master, the +other to Sara. Both bore the same handwriting--Captain Davenal's. +Sara, in her bitter disappointment, let hers lie by her plate +untouched, but the doctor opened his. + +Miss Bettina looked up. "Is he coming, Richard?" + +"No. He says he can't come. That it is an impossibility." + +"What else does he say?" + +Dr. Davenal folded his letter and put it in his pocket, to read at his +leisure. "Ask Sara what he says," was his answer, "All the gossip is +in hers." + +"And this is what he calls affection!" exclaimed Miss Bettina. "To +leave his native land, his home, without a farewell! That's gratitude! +Richard Davenal, were I you, he should carry out my displeasure with +him." + +"I don't know," said the doctor, his voice sadly subdued. "Send out +displeasure with one whom we may never see again! No, Bettina. And it +may be as he says--that he is unable to come." + +He was looking straight before him as he spoke it, in a far-off, +dreamy gaze. His thoughts had flown to one who had gone out under a +sort of displeasure, gone out but for a short time--and had never come +home again. + +The hour for the funeral approached, and the doctor in his black +attire stepped into his close carriage to be conveyed to the residence +of Lady Oswald. He found all the mourners assembled, for he was late, +with the exception of Mark Cray. Sir Philip Oswald and his eldest son; +Oswald Cray; the Reverend Mr. Stephenson and his brother Mr. Joseph +Stephenson. All were there, now the doctor had come, except Mark. The +funeral was to be at the church at eleven. + +The time went on. The hearse and mourning coaches stood before the +door, the horses restless. It was close upon eleven. + +"For whom do we wait?" inquired Sir Philip Oswald. + +"For Mr. Cray, Sir Philip," answered the undertaker, who was gliding +about, handing gloves and fixing hatbands. + +"Mr. Cray?" repeated Sir Philip, as though he did not understand who +Mr. Cray was. + +"Lady Oswald's late medical attendant, Sir Philip, in conjunction with +Dr. Davenal." + +"Oh--ah--yes," said Sir Philip. He was very friendly with Dr. Davenal, +exceedingly so; and condescended not to ignore Mr. Cray as the +doctor's partner. It was the first time that Oswald had ever been in a +room with Sir Philip. Sir Philip had bowed to him coldly enough upon +his entrance, but the son, Henry Oswald, went up to him and held out +his hand in a cordial manner. Oswald, haughtily self-possessed, stood +before Sir Philip with his impassive face, looking more of a gentleman +than the baronet did. + +The clock struck eleven. "I suppose Mr. Cray _is_ coming?" remarked +Sir Philip. + +He looked at Dr. Davenal. The doctor supposed he was coming as a +matter of course: he believed he was coming. He had not seen Mr. Cray +that morning. + +It was suggested by the undertaker that they should proceed. Mr. Cray, +he observed, would possibly join them at the church; he might have +been kept back unexpectedly. + +So the funeral started. All that remained of poor Lady Oswald was +carried out of her house, never more to return to it. Not a week ago +yet, on that past Saturday morning, she had gone forth in health and +strength, and now--there! What a lessen it told of the uncertainty of +life! + +The funeral made its way through lines of curious gazers to the +church. Mark Cray was not there, and the service was performed without +him. At its conclusion the gentlemen returned to the house. + +A lawyer from a neighbouring town, Lady Oswald's legal adviser, was +there with the will, and they were invited to enter and hear the will +read. + +"It cannot concern me," remarked Sir Philip. Nevertheless he went in. + +"And I am sure it cannot concern me," added Oswald. + +The clergyman, Mr. Stephenson, looked up with a crimson hectic +on his cheek. It was next to impossible to mistake his eager +glance--betraying the hope within him, sure and steadfast, that it did +concern him. In point of fact he and that gentleman by his side, his +brother, had the chief right to any money she might have left. It may +be said the sole right. How they needed it their threadbare clothes +and sunken cheeks betrayed. Gentlemen born, they had to keep up an +appearance before the world; at least, they strove to keep it. But +they were weary with the struggle. The brother was of no particular +profession. He had been reared for the church and could never get to +college, and he contrived to make a living--that is, he contrived not +to starve--by writing articles for any paper or periodical that could +be persuaded into taking them. Each was of good repute in the world, +bearing up manfully and doing the best he could do with his lot, +sanguinely hoping, humbly trusting, that time would better it. They +each had a large family, and indulged the vain and wild hope of +bringing up their sons as gentlemen, as they themselves had been +brought up. Not as gentlemen in the matter of abstaining from labour; +that would have been foolish; but they hoped to bring them up educated +men, capable of doing their duty in any walk of life they might be +called to. How they had looked forward to the prospect of some time +possessing this money of Lady Oswald's, their hearts alone knew. If +ever the excuse for cherishing such a wish could be pleaded, it surely +might be by them. + +"I suppose these people, the Stephensons, will chiefly inherit what +she has left," whispered the baronet's son confidentially to Oswald +Cray. "Perhaps you know? You have seen a good deal of Lady Oswald, I +believe." + +"I don't at all know how her affairs are left," was the reply of +Oswald Cray. + +"I should think they will inherit," continued Mr. Oswald. "Shouldn't +you?" + +"I should think--yes--I---should think they will. Being her only +relatives, they have undoubtedly the greatest right to do so." + +Why did Oswald Cray hesitate in his answer?--he so generally decisive +of speech. Because in the very moment that the acquiescence was +leaving his lips there flashed over his mind the words spoken to him +by Lady Oswald the previous Saturday. He had not understood those +words at the time, did not understand them now: but if he could +interpret them at all, they certainly did not point to her nephews, +the brothers Stephenson. He remembered them well: at least, their +substance. "When my will comes to be read, you may feel surprised at +its contents. You may deem that you had more legal claim upon me than +he who will inherit: I do not think so. He to whom my money is left +has most claim in my judgment: I am happy to know that he will be +rewarded, and he knows it." + +Not a week ago! not a week ago that she had said it. How little did +Oswald foresee that he should so soon be called upon to hear that will +read! + +But still the words did not seem to point to either of her nephews, +with whom she had not lived on any terms of friendship, and Oswald +began to feel a little curious as to the inheritor. + +They were waiting for the lawyer, who had not yet come into the room. +He might be getting the will. His name was Wedderburn, a stout man +with a pimpled face. Sir Philip Oswald had a pimpled face too; but he +was not stout; he was as thin and as tall as a lath. + +Dr. Davenal took out his watch. He found it later than he thought, and +turned to Sir Philip. + +"I cannot remain longer," he said. "I have a consultation at half-past +twelve, and must not miss it. I am not wanted here: there's nothing +for me to stay for: so I'll wish you good-morning." + +"For that matter, I don't see that any of us are wanted," responded +Sir Philip. "I'm sure I am not. Good-morning, doctor." + +Nodding his salutation to the room generally, the doctor went out. +Soon afterwards Mr. Wedderburn made his appearance, the will in his +hand, which he prepared to read. Clearing his voice, he threw his eyes +round the room, as if to see that his audience were ready. The absence +of one appeared then to strike him, and he pushed his spectacles to +the top of his brow and gazed again. + +"Where's Dr. Davenal?" + +"He is gone," replied Sir Philip Oswald. + +"Gone!" repeated the lawyer, in consternation. "Why--he--Dr. Davenal +should have stopped, of all people." + +"He said he had a consultation. What does it signify?" + +"Well, Sir Philip, he--at any rate, I suppose there's no help for it +now. It must be read without him." + +Not one present but looked at the lawyer with surprise, not one but +thought him a strangely punctilious man to suppose Dr. Davenal's +presence, as Lady Oswald's medical man and attendant at her funeral, +was in any degree essential to the reading of Lady Oswald's will. They +soon learned the cause. + +First of all, the will bequeathed a few legacies. Very small ones. +Twenty pounds to each of her servants; forty pounds and all her +clothes to Parkins; fifty pounds each to her nephews John and Joseph +Stephenson, with the furniture of her house to be divided between them +"amicably;" a beautiful diamond ring and a little plate to Oswald +Oswald Cray; the rest of the plate, by far the most valuable portion, +to Sir Philip Oswald of Thorndyke; and another diamond ring to Dr. +Richard Davenal. So far, so good: but now came the disposal of the +bulk of her money. It was bequeathed, the whole of it, to Dr. Davenal, +"my faithful friend and medical attendant for so many years." + +The will was remarkably short, taking but a few minutes in the +reading; and at its conclusion Mr. Wedderburn laid it open on the +table that anybody might look at it who chose. + +It would be difficult to say which of the countenances around him +exhibited the greatest surprise. The lawyer's voice died away in a +deep silence. It was broken by the clergyman, the Reverend John +Stephenson. + +"It is not just! It is not just!" + +The wailing tone, not of passion or anger but of meek despair, struck +upon them all, and told how bitter was the disappointment. Every heart +in the room echoed the cry, the lawyer's probably excepted. Lawyers, +as a whole, don't think much of justice. This one took out his +snuffbox and inhaled a pinch with equanimity. + +"I am ready to answer questions, should any gentleman wish to put +them. It was Lady Oswald's desire that I should. When this will was +made she said to me, 'Some of them will be for making a fuss, +Wedderburn; you can explain my motives if they care to hear them.' +Those motives lay in this; her ladyship knew her health and comfort to +have been so materially benefited of late years by the skill and +kindness of Dr. Davenal, that she considered it her duty in gratitude +to reward him." + +"Nevertheless it is not just," murmured the poor clergyman again. "Dr. +Davenal does not want the money as we want it." + +Oswald Cray awoke as from a dream. He took a step forward and +addressed the lawyer. "Did Dr. Davenal know that the money was left to +him?" + +"I am unable to say, sir. Lady Oswald may have told him, or she may +not. He did not know it from me." + +Oswald Cray said no more. He leaned against the window, half-hidden by +the curtain, and plunged into thought. + +"Well, I must say I am surprised," remarked Sir Philip. "Not but that +Lady Oswald had a perfect right to do as she pleased with her money, +and she might have signalled out a less worthy man as inheritor. How +much is the amount, Mr. Wedderburn? Do you know?" + +"Somewhere between six and seven thousand pounds, I believe, Sir +Philip. It would have been considerably more, but that her ladyship, a +few years ago, was persuaded by an evil counsellor to sell out a large +sum from the funds and invest elsewhere, for the sake of better +interest." + +"And she lost it?" + +"Every shilling," replied the lawyer, with satisfaction: for it was +done without his concurrence. "She would have had double the money to +leave behind her but for that." + +"Ah!" Sir Philip spoke the monosyllable shortly, and dropped the +point. Not so very long ago _he_ had been seduced to invest money in +some grand and very plausible scheme--one of those to be heard of +daily, promising a fortune in twelve months at the most--and he had +burnt his fingers. The topic, consequently, was not palatable to his +ears. + +"Ask him how long this will has been made, John," whispered the +literary man to his brother. Of a retiring timid nature himself, he +rarely spoke but when he was obliged, and he shrank from putting the +question. The clergyman obeyed, and the lawyer pointed to the date of +the will. + +"Only in April last. Lady Oswald was fond of making wills. Some people +are so. I have made her, I should think, half-a-dozen, if I have made +one." + +"And the bulk of the money was always left to Dr. Davenal?" + +"O dear no. It never was left to him until this last was made." + +"Was I--were we--was it ever left to us?" asked the poor clergyman, +tremblingly. + +"Yes it was," replied Mr. Wedderburn. "I don't see why I should not +avow it. It can't make any difference, one way or the other. In the +first will she ever made after Sir John's death it was left to you. +And in the last will preceding this, it was again left to you. Once it +was left"--the lawyer looked towards the window--"to Mr. Oswald Cray." + +Oswald gave his shoulders a haughty shrug. "I should never have +accepted the legacy," he said in a distinct, deliberate tone. "I had +no claim whatever to Lady Oswald's money, and should not have taken +it." + +Henry Oswald laughed; a pleasant, cordial laugh, as he turned to +Oswald. "You don't know, Mr. Oswald Cray. We are all so ready to be +chivalrous in theory: but when it comes to practice--the best of us +are apt to fall off." + +"True," quietly remarked Oswald: but he did not pursue the theme. + +There was nothing more to be said or done then. Of what profit to +remain talking of the wills that had been, while the present one was +before them and must be put in force? Sir Philip made the first move; +he went out, taking a formal leave; Henry Oswald with a more cordial +one. Oswald Cray was the next to leave. He shook hands with the +brothers, and spoke a few kind words of sympathy for their +disappointment. + +"It is the disappointment of a life," replied the clergyman in a low +tone. "Our struggle has been continued long; and we had--there's no +denying it--looked forward to this. It is a hard trial when relatives +find themselves passed over for strangers." + +"It is, it is;" said Oswald Cray. "I could wish Lady Oswald had been +more mindful of legitimate claims." + +As he was going out, Parkins waylaid him in her new mourning. "There +will be a dinner ready at five o'clock, sir. Would you be pleased to +stay for it?" + +"Not today," replied Oswald. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +NEAL'S VISIT. + + +Causing the sweeping crape to be taken from his hat, for he preferred +to depart on foot, Oswald Cray proceeded through the town to the house +of his brother. Just as he reached the door Mark rode up on horseback +and leaped off with a hasty spring, throwing his bridle to the man who +waited. + +"Of course I am too late!" he exclaimed. + +"Of course you are, by pretty near two hours. How did it happen, +Mark?" + +"Well--I-can hardly tell how it happened," was the answer of Mark. "I +had a patient to see in the country--more than one, in fact--and I +thought I could do it all first and be back in time. But I suppose I +must have stayed later than I purposed, for before I was ready to +return I found it was half-past eleven, and the funeral no doubt over. +And then I did not hurry myself." + +They were walking across the hall to the dining-room as he said this. +Caroline was seated at the table, her workbox before her, doing some +embroidery. She flung the work down, rose, and confronted her husband. + +"Mark, why did you do this? You went into the country to avoid the +funeral!" + +"I--I did what?" exclaimed Mark. "Nonsense, Carrie! Why should I wish +to avoid the funeral? I have attended plenty of funerals in my time." + +Oswald turned quickly and looked at Mark. It was not the accusation of +Mrs. Cray that had aroused his attention--_that_ went for nothing; but +something peculiar in Mark's tone as he answered it. To Oswald's ears +it spoke of evasion. He could not see his face. It was bent, and he +was slapping his dusty boots with his riding-whip. + +"But why DID you go into the country?" pursued Caroline. "It was +half-past ten when you were here, and I warned you then it was getting +time to dress. When I saw your horse brought to the door and you +gallop off on him, I could not believe my eyes." + +"Well, I mistook the time, that's the fact. I am very sorry for it, +but it can't be helped now. Of course I should like to have attended +and paid her my last respects, poor lady. Not but that I daresay there +were enough without me. I was not missed." + +"But you were missed," said Oswald, "and waited for too. It threw us +pretty nearly half-an-hour behindhand. I should not like to keep a +funeral waiting myself, Mark." + +"Who was there?" asked Mark. + +"The two relatives of Lady Oswald, Sir Philip and his son, Dr. Davenal +and myself." + +"Davenal was there, then. But of course he would be. Then he served to +do duty for me and himself. And so Sir Philip came?" + +"I should be surprised had he not come." + +"Should you? He is a cranky sort of gentleman: an Oswald all over. You +are another of them, Oswald. I wonder if you'll get cranky in your old +age." + +"Don't listen to him, Oswald," interposed Mrs. Cray. "He seems +'cranky' himself this morning." + +Mark laughed good-humouredly, and tossed a late China rose to Caroline +which he had brought home in his button-hole. "Did you hear the will +read, Oswald?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Short and sweet!" cried Mark, alluding to the monosyllable, which it +must be confessed was given in a curt, displeased tone, as if its +speaker were himself displeased. "I think it is you who are cranky, +Oswald." + +Oswald smiled. "A thought was causing me vexation, Mark." + +"Vexation at me?" + +"Oh, no." + +"Well, and who comes in for the money? The Stephensons?" + +"No. The Stephensons come in for a very poor portion. It is left to +Dr. Davenal." + +"To Dr. Davenal!" echoed Mark in his astonishment. "No!" + +"The bulk of the money is bequeathed to him. All of it, in fact, with +the exception of a few trifling legacies. The Stephensons have fifty +pounds each and the furniture." + +Caroline had dropped her embroidery again and was gazing at Oswald, +apparently unable to take in the news. "Are you telling us this for a +joke?" she asked. + +"The money is left to Dr. Davenal, Mrs. Cray," repeated Oswald, and +certainly there was no sound of joking in his tone. "It surprised us +all." + +"What a lucky man!" exclaimed Mark. "I wonder if he had any prevision +of this yesterday? We were speaking of money, he and I. It was about +that field behind the doctor's stables, the one he has so long wanted +to buy. The owner's dead, and it is for sale at last. I observed to +the doctor that I supposed he'd secure it at once, but he said he +should not buy it at all; he had had a heavy loss, and could not +afford it----" + +"It is not true, Mark!" interrupted his wife. + +"It is true, Caroline. But don't you go and repeat it again. He said, +moreover, he had great need himself of a thousand or two, and did not +know where to turn to for it. Mind you, I believe he was betrayed, as +it were, out of the avowal, I had been saying so much about the field: +for he brought himself suddenly up as though recollection had come to +him, and said, 'Don't talk of this, Mark!'" + +And Mark's long tongue _had_ talked of it! Oswald Cray listened to its +every word. + +"If he could but have foreseen then that this money had dropped to +him! And yet--I should think he must have known it from Lady Oswald; +or partially known it. How much is it, Oswald?" + +"Six or seven thousand pounds. It would have been a great deal more +but for certain losses. Wedderburn said she was persuaded to embark +money in some speculation; and it failed." + +"How stupid of her!" exclaimed free Mark. "I wonder, now whether the +doctor did know of this! If he did he'd keep his own counsel. Did he +appear surprised, Oswald?" + +"He was not there. He left before the will was read, saying he had to +attend a consultation." + +"Well, so he had," said Mark; "I happen to know that much. It was for +half-past twelve." + +So far, then, Dr. Davenal had spoken truth. A doubt had been crossing +Oswald's mind, amidst many other curious doubts, whether Dr. Davenal +had made the excuse to get away, and so avoid hearing the will read, +and himself named chief legatee. + +He remained some time with Mark and his wife. They asked him to stay +for dinner, but he declined. He had ordered a chop to be ready at the +"Apple Tree," and was going back to London early in the evening--by +that seven o'clock train you have before heard of. + +"Had you any particular motive for absenting yourself from Lady +Oswald's funeral!" he asked of Mark, as the latter accompanied him to +the street-door on his departure. + +"Not I," answered Mark, with the most apparent readiness. "It was very +bungling of me to mistake the time. Not that I like attending funerals +as a matter of taste: I don't know who does. Good-afternoon, Oswald. +You must give us a longer visit when you are down next." + +He stood at the Abbey door, watching his brother wind round the +branching rails, for Oswald was taking the station on his way to his +inn. Very cleverly, in Mark's own opinion, had he parried the +questions of his purposed absence. His absence _was_ purposed. With +that chloroform on his conscience he did not care to attend the +funeral of Lady Oswald. + +And the afternoon went on. + +It was growing dusk, was turned half-past six, and Oswald Cray was +beginning to think it time to make ready for his departure. He had not +stirred from the chair where he ate his dinner, though the meal was +over long ago; had not called for lights; had, in fact, waved John +Hamos away when he would have appeared with them. His whole range of +thought was absorbed by one topic--his doubts of Dr. Davenal. + +Yes, it is of no use to deny it; it had come to that with Oswald +Cray--doubts. Doubts he scarcely knew of what, or to what extent; he +scarcely knew where these doubts or his own thoughts were carrying +him. On the previous night he had for a few moments given the reins to +imagination; had allowed himself to suppose, for argument's sake only, +that Dr. Davenal had given that chloroform knowing or fancying it +might prove fatal, and he had gone so far as to ask what, then, could +be his motive. There was no motive; Oswald glanced on each side of him +to every point, and could discover no motive whatever, or appearance +of motive. Therefore he had thrust the doubts from him, as wanting +foundation. + +But had the revelations of this day supplied the link that was wanting +Had they not supplied it? _The death of Lady Oswald brought a fortune +to Dr. Davenal_. + +Almost hating himself for pursuing these thoughts, or rather for the +obligation to pursue them, for they would haunt him, and he could not +help himself, Oswald Cray sat on in the fading light. Ha said to +himself, how absurd, nay how wicked it was of him, and yet he could +not shake them off. The more he strove to do so, the more he brought +reason to his aid, telling him that Dr. Davenal was a good and +honourable and upright man, as he had always believed, the less would +reason hold the mastery. Imagination was all too present in its most +vivid colouring, and it was chaining him to its will. + +What were the simple facts? asked reason. Dr. Davenal had caused Lady +Oswald to inhale chloroform, having only some hours previously avowed +to Oswald his belief that she was a most unfit subject for it, was one +of those few to whom the drug proves fatal. It did prove fatal. There +had next been some equivocation on the part of Mark, when questioned +about it, and there had been the positive refusal of Dr. Davenal to +afford any explanation. Next, there had been the discovery of the +day--that Dr. Davenal was the inheritor. Well, it might all be +explained away, reason said; it was certainly not enough to attribute +to Dr. Davenal the worst social crime contained in the decalogue. But +the more Oswald Cray dwelt on this view, or tried to dwell upon it, +the more persistently rose up imagination, torturing and twisting +facts, and bending them as it pleased. + +There had been that hint of Neal's too! Oswald Cray honestly believed +that Neal was one of those servants incapable of speaking ill for +ill's sake; and he could not help wondering what he meant. Neal was +not an ignorant man, likely to be deceived, to take up fancies: he was +of superior intelligence, quite an educated man for his class of life. +If---- + +Oswald's thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of his landlord. "I +don't want lights, John; I told you I did not. I shall be going +directly." + +"It is not lights, sir. Mr. Neal, Dr. Davenal's servant, is asking to +see you." + +"Neal! Let him come in." + +Neal came forward into the dusky room. He was the bearer of a note +from his master. Oswald had a light brought in then, and opened it. It +was written in pencil. + + +"My Dear Mr. Oswald Cray,-- + +"I very much wish to see you if you can spare me an hour. I thought +perhaps you would have dropped in this lonely day and taken a knife +and fork with us. Will you come down this evening?--Ever sincerely +yours, Richard Davenal." + + +"Neal, will you tell Dr. Davenal--he is expecting me, I find?" + +"I think so, sir. He said to me before dinner that he thought you +might be coming in. When he found you did not, and they were sitting +down to table, he wrote this in pencil, and bade me call one of the +maids to wait, while I brought it up to you." + +"Tell the doctor that I am quite unable to come down. I have to return +to London by the seven o'clock train." + +"Very well, sir." + +Neal was leaving the room, but Mr. Oswald Cray stopped him. He had +taken a sudden resolution, and he spoke on the spur of the moment, +without reflection. The perplexity of his mind may be his excuse. + +"Neal, have you any objection to tell me what you meant last night by +hinting that Lady Oswald had not come fairly by her death?" + +Neal paused. He was a man of caution; he liked to calculate his words +and his ways before entering on them. Neal would certainly speak if he +dared. He was in a very bitter mood, for the day's doings had not +pleased him. The news had reached him that her ladyship's money had +been all left to Dr. Davenal; that he, Neal, was not so much as named +in the will. And Neal had looked forward as confidently as had the +Reverend Mr. Stephenson to the hope of some little remembrance being +left to him. In his terrible anger, it seemed to him that the one +enemy to prevent it had been the great inheritor, Dr. Davenal. + +"Sir, if I speak, would you give me your promise first, to hold what I +say sacred to yourself; to let it go no further? I know, sir, it is +not the place of a servant to ask this confidence of a gentleman, but +I should be afraid to speak without it." + +"I will give it you," said Mr. Oswald Cray. "You may rely upon me." + +And Neal knew that if there was one man more than another on the face +of the earth who would never forfeit his word, upon whom implicit +trust might be placed, it was Oswald Cray. Neal set himself to his +task. First of all opening the door to make sure they were entirely +alone, he dropped his voice to a safe whisper, and described what he +had seen and heard on the Sunday night. It was certainly a startling +narration, and as Oswald Cray listened to it in that darkened +room,--for the one candle, now placed on a side-table behind, only +served to throw out the shadows,--listened to the hushed tones, the +unexplainable words, a curious feeling of dread began to creep over +him. Neal, you may be very sure, did not disclose anything that could +bear against himself; he contrived to come out well in it. He was +standing outside for a moment before going to bed, hoping the air +would remove the sad headache which had suddenly seized him upon +hearing of the death of his late lady, when he saw the man come in in +the extraordinary manner he had just described. Believing him to be +nothing less than a housebreaker (and Watton, who had seen the man +from her room upstairs, had come to the same conclusion), or an evil +character of some sort, getting in plausibly on false pretences to +work harm to Dr. Davenal, he had gone to the window to look in out of +anxiety for his master's safety, and there had heard what he had +stated, for the window was thrown open. He could not see the visitor, +who was seated in the shade: he only heard sufficient to tell him that +the business he had come on was Lady Oswald's death; and he heard Dr. +Davenal acknowledge that it was murder, and that it must be hushed up +at any price, even if it cost him his fortune. He, Neal, described the +utterly prostrate condition of his master that night; both before and +after the interview with the visitor, he was like one who has some +dreadful secret upon the mind, some heavy guilt; Neal had thought so +before ever the man, whoever he might have been, entered the house. + +Will it be forgiven to Oswald Cray if in that brief confused moment he +believed the worst--believed all that Neal said to him? His mind was +in a chaos of perplexity, almost, it may be said, of terror. Nothing +was clear. He could not analyse, he could not reason: Neal's words, +and the doings of the night which the man was describing, seemed to +dance before his mind in confused forms, ever changing, as do the bits +of coloured glass in a kaleidoscope. Neal continued to speak, but he +did not hear him distinctly now; the words reached his senses +certainly, but more as if he were in a mazy dream. He heard the man +reiterate that, wherever it was his master had gone to that night, +remaining away until the Wednesday it was connected with the death of +Lady Oswald; he heard him say that, whatever the mystery and the +guilt, Miss Sara Davenal had been made the confidant of it by her +father, he, Neal, supposed front some imperative motive which he did +not pretend to understand. Oswald heard like one in a dream, the words +partially glancing off his mind even as they were spoken, only to be +recalled afterwards with redoubled force. + +In the midst of it he suddenly looked at his watch, suspecting--as he +found--that he had barely time to catch the train. + +And he went out in a sort of blind confusion, his brain echoing the +words of Dr. Davenal, only too accurately remembered and repeated by +Neal. "Murder? Yes, the world would look upon it as such. I felt +certain that Lady Oswald was one to whom chloroform, if administered, +would prove fatal." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +DR. DAVENAL'S "FOLLY." + + +It was startling news to go forth to Hallingham--one of the nine days' +wonders read of in social history. Lady Oswald had bequeathed her +fortune to her physician, Dr. Davenal! Such things had been known +before in the world's experiences, but Hallingham made as much of the +fact as if that were the first time it had ever been enacted. + +Upon none did the news fall with more complete astonishment than upon +the doctor himself. Lady Oswald had more than once in the past few +months mysteriously hinted to him that he would be rewarded some time +for his care and attention to her; and it must be supposed that she +had these hints in her mind when she said to Mr. Oswald Cray that "he" +(the named inheritor of her money) knew that he would be rewarded. +Upon Dr. Davenal the hints had never made any impression. Of a nature +the very reverse of covetous, simple-minded, single-hearted, it never +so much as crossed his imagination that she would be leaving her money +to _him_. He would have been the first to repudiate it; to point out +to her the injustice of the act. + +It is surely not necessary to premise that you, my intelligent and +enlightened readers, cannot have fallen into the mistake made by Neal, +or drawn that respected domestic's very absurd, though perhaps to a +fanciful and prejudiced mind not unnatural deduction, that the +night-visit to Dr. Davenal had reference to Lady Oswald's death. Being +in the secret of who really did administer that fatal dose of +chloroform to Lady Oswald, you will not connect it with Dr. Davenal's +trouble. A heavy secret, involving disgrace, much misery, perhaps +ruin, had indeed fallen that night on Dr. Davenal, but it was entirely +unconnected with the death of Lady Oswald. The words which Neal had +heard--and he heard them correctly--would have borne to his mind +a very different interpretation had he been enabled to hear the +_whole_--what had preceded them and what followed them. But he did +not. + +Yes, this unhappy secret, this great misfortune, had nothing to do +with Lady Oswald. Far from Dr. Davenal's having caused her to inhale +an extra dose of chloroform as an experiment, on the strength that it +might prove fatal, and so enable him to drop at once into that very +desirable legacy named in her will, and which supposition, I am sure +you will agree with me in thinking, belongs rather to the world of +idealic wonders than of real life, the doctor had not the faintest +suspicion that he should inherit a shilling. When the news was +conveyed to him he could not believe it to be true,--did not believe +it for some little time. + +It was Mr. Wedderburn who carried it to him. When the lawyer's +business was over at Lady Oswald's, he proceeded to Dr. Davenal's, and +found him just come home from the consultation, to attend which he had +hurried away before the reading of the will. Mr. Wedderburn told him +the news. + +"Left to me?" exclaimed the doctor. "Her money left to me! Nonsense!" + +"It is indeed," affirmed Mr. Wedderburn. "After the legacies are paid +you take everything--you are residuary legatee." + +"You are joking," said the doctor. "What have I to do with the money? +I have no right to it." + +With some difficulty Dr. Davenal was convinced that he, and he alone, +was named the inheritor. It did not give him pleasure. Quite the +contrary; he saw in it only a good deal of trouble and law business, +which he much disliked at all times to engage in. + +Richard Davenal was one of those thoroughly conscientious men--and +there are a few such in the world--who could not be content to enjoy +money to which another has more right. It was a creed of his--it is +not altogether an obsolete one--that money so enjoyed could not bring +pleasure in the spending, or good in the end. Lady Oswald had +legitimate relations, who had looked for the money, who needed the +money, needed it with a far deeper need than Dr. Davenal, and who +possessed a claim to it, so far as relationship could give it them. +Even as the conviction slowly arose to him that the news was true that +he had been made the inheritor, so there arose another conviction, or +rather a resolution, with it,--that he would never accept the money, +that it should go over to its legitimate owners, no matter what +trouble it involved. A resolution from which he never swerved. + +Never. Not even in the moment when a tempter's voice arose within him, +whispering how well this legacy would serve to replace that great sum, +the savings of years, which he had been obliged to part with only that +very week. Partly to satisfy a debt of which until then he had known +nothing, had he parted with it; partly as hush-money, to keep down +that terrible secret whispered to him on the Sunday night. The thought +certainly did arise--that it almost seemed as if this money had been +sent to him to replace it; but he did not allow it to obtain weight. +It would have been simply impossible for Dr. Davenal to act against +his conscience. + +"I shall refuse the legacy," he remarked to Mr. Wedderburn. "I have no +right to it." + +"What did you say?" asked the lawyer, believing he did not properly +catch the words. + +"I shall not accept this money. It is none of mine. It ought to be +none of mine. It must go to Lady Oswald's relatives." + +"But it is yours, Dr. Davenal. It is bequeathed to you in the will." + +"I don't care for the will. I should not care for ten wills, if I had +no right to the money they bequeathed me. I have no right to this, and +I will not touch a farthing of it." + +Mr. Wedderburn's surprise could only expend itself in one long stare. +In all his lawyerly experience he had never come across an +announcement so savouring of chivalry. The legatees he had had the +pleasure of doing business with were only too eager to grasp their +good fortune, and if any little inconvenient pricks of conscience were +so ill-mannered as to arise, they were speedily despatched back again +by the very legal thought--If I do take it I but obey the will. + +"There never was such a thing heard of as the refusing of a fortune +legally bequeathed," cried the lawyer. + +"I daresay there has been, many a time. If not, this will be a +precedent." + +"You'll be so laughed at," persisted Mr. Wedderburn. "You'll be set +down--I'm afraid people will be for setting you down as a lunatic." + +"Let them," said the doctor. "They shan't confine me as one without my +own certificate. Mr. Wedderburn," he continued in a graver tone, "I am +serious in this refusal. I feel that I have no right whatever to this +money of Lady Oswald's. She has paid me liberally for my services----" + +"If you only knew how many thousands inherit money daily who have no +right to it," interrupted Mr. Wedderburn. + +"Doubtless they do. I was going to observe that it is not so much my +having no right to it, that would cause me to decline, as the fact +that others exist who have a right. I----" + +"But the will gives you a right," interposed the lawyer, unable to get +over his surprise. + +"A legal right, I am aware it does. But not a just one. No, I will not +accept this legacy." + +"What will you do about it, then?" + +The doctor was silent for a minute. "I should wish the money to be +appropriated just as though there had been no Dr. Davenal in +existence. You say this will was made but about six months ago. It +must have superseded another will, I presume?" + +"It may be said that it superseded several," was the reply. "Lady +Oswald was constantly making wills. She had made some half-dozen +before this last one." + +"And each one disposing of her property differently?" quickly asked +the doctor. + +"Yea, or nearly so. Twice she bequeathed it to her nephews, the +Stephensons. Once it was left to Mr. Oswald Cray; once to charities; +once to Sir Philip Oswald. She has been exceedingly capricious." + +"All the more reason why I should not take it now," warmly cried Dr. +Davenal. "She must have left it to me in a moment of caprice; and had +she lived a few months longer this will would have been revoked as the +rest have been. Mr. Wedderburn, were I capable of acting upon it, of +taking the money, I should lose all self-respect for ever. I could +not, as a responsible being, responsible to One who sees and judges +all I do, be guilty of so crying an injustice." + +Mr. Wedderburn suppressed a shrug of the shoulders. He could only look +at these affairs with a lawyer's eye and a lawyer's reasoning. Dr. +Davenal resumed-- + +"What was the tenor of the will which this last one supersede? Do you +recollect?" + +"Perfectly. We hold the draft of it still. It was as nearly as +possible a counterpart of the present one, excepting as relates to +your share in this and that of the brothers Stephenson. In that last +will they took your place. The furniture was bequeathed to them, as in +this, and also the bulk of the property." + +"My name not being mentioned in it?" + +"Yes, it was. The diamond ring bequeathed to you now was bequeathed +then. Nothing more to you." + +"Then that's all right. Now, Mr. Wedderburn, listen to me. That +diamond ring I will accept with pleasure, as a reminiscence of my poor +friend and patient; but I will accept nothing else. Will you be so +kind as to destroy this last will, and let the other be acted upon? I +am scaring you, I see. If that cannot legally be done, I must let the +money come to me, but only in transit for the rightful owners, the +Reverend Mr. Stephenson and his brother, and I'll make them a present +of it. You will manage this for me. Being at home in law details, you +know of course what may and what may not be done. All I beg of you is +to effect this, carrying it out in the simplest manner, and in the +quickest possible time." + +Mr. Wedderburn drew a long face. He had no more cause to wish the +money to go to Dr. Davenal than to the clergyman and his brother, but +it was altogether so unusual a mode of proceeding, would be so very +unprofessional a transaction, that he regarded it as an innovation +hardly to be tolerated, a sort of scandal on all recognised notions in +the legal world, of which Mr. Wedderburn himself was little better +than a machine. + +"I cannot undertake it without your giving me instructions in writing, +Dr. Davenal," he said glumpily. "I'd not stir a peg in it without." + +"You shall have them in full." + +"Well, sir, you know best, but the time may come when your children +will not thank you for this. It is folly, Dr. Davenal, and nothing +less." + +"I hope my children will never question any act of mine. I am doing +this for the best." + +Nevertheless, as Dr. Davenal spoke, there was some pain in his tone. +The lawyer detected it, and thought he was coming round. He would not +speak immediately, but let the feeling work its way. + +"It is a large sum to relinquish," the lawyer presently said; "to +throw out of one's hand as if it were so much worthless sand." + +"What is the sum?--what has she left?" asked Dr. Davenal, the remark +reminding him that he was as yet in ignorance. + +"I expect, when all the legacies and other expenses are paid, there +will be little over six thousand pounds. There ought to have been +double. Lady Oswald lost a large sum a few years ago, quite as much as +that. She put it into some prosperous-looking bubble, and it burst. +Women should never dabble in business. They are safe to get their +fingers burnt." + +"Men have burnt theirs sometimes," was the answer of Dr. Davenal, +spoken significantly. "Six thousand pounds! I should have thought her +worth much more. Well, Mr. Wedderburn, you will carry out my +instructions." + +"Of course, if you order me. Will you be so kind as to write those +instructions to me at your convenience, posting them from this town to +my house. I am going back home at once." + +"Won't you see Mr. Stephenson and his brother first, and impart to +them the fact that I shall not take the money?" + +"No," said the lawyer, "I want to go home by the next train. I wish, +Dr. Davenal, you would allow me to give you just one word of advice." + +"You can give it me," said Dr. Davenal. "I don't promise to take it." + +"It might be the better for you if you would," was the reply. "My +advice is, say nothing to the Stephensons, or to any one else, today. +This is a very strange resolution that you have expressed, and I beg +you to sleep upon it. A night's rest may serve to change your mind." + +The lawyer departed. It was close upon the hour for Dr. Davenal to +receive his indoor patients, and he could not go out then. He went to +look for his daughter, and found her in the garden parlour with her +aunt. It was not often that Miss Bettina troubled that room--she had +been wont to tell Sara and Caroline that its litter set her teeth on +edge. + +They began to talk to him of the funeral. It was natural they should +do so. In a country place these somewhat unusual occurrences of +everyday life are made much of. Miss Bettina was curious. + +"Were the people from Thorndyke there?" she asked. + +"Sir Philip and his eldest son." + +"And Oswald Cray?" + +"Of course. He came down on purpose." + +"My goodness! And so they met! How did they behave, Richard?" + +"Just as the rest of us behaved. Did you suppose they'd start a +quarrel?" + +"I was sure of it. I knew they would never meet without starting one. +Nothing less could come of Oswald Cray's proud spirit and the manner +they have treated him." + +"At sea as usual, Bettina. Do you think they'd quarrel _there?_--on +that solemn occasion? Oswald Cray and Sir Philip are proud enough, +both of them; but they are _gentlemen_--you forget that, Bettina. I +think Oswald Cray is about the least likely man to quarrel that I +know, whether with Sir Philip or with anybody else. Your proud man +washes his hands of people whom he despises; but he does not quarrel +with them." + +How singularly true were the words in regard to Oswald Cray! It was as +though Dr. Davenal had worn in that moment the gift of prevision; +"Your proud man washes his hands of people whom he despises." + +"And how is her money left?" continued Miss Bettina. "To the +Stephensons?" + +"No, she has not made a just will. It is left to----to a stranger. A +stranger in blood." + +"Indeed! To whom? I hope _you_ have been remembered with some little +token Richard?" + +"To be sure I have been. You know those two splendid diamond rings of +hers: I have one, Oswald Cray the other. And that's all he has got, by +the way, except a silver coffee-pot, or so. Sara, come with me into +the garden, I wish to have a little chat with you." + +"You have not told me who the stranger is," shrieked out Miss Bettina. + +"I'll tell you by-and-by," called back the doctor. + +"I did not think it likely she would leave anything to Oswald Cray, +papa," Sara remarked, as they paced the garden path. + +"I think I should, had I been in her place. A matter of five hundred +pounds, or so, would have helped him on wonderfully. However, there +was no obligation, and it is a question whether Oswald would have +accepted it." + +"You said it was not a just will, papa?" + +"I could have gone further than that, Sara, and stigmatised it as a +very unjust one. Those poor Stephensons, who have been expecting this +money--who had a right to expect it--are cut off with a paltry fifty +pounds each and the furniture." + +"O papa! And are they not very poor?" + +"So poor, that I believe honestly they have not always bread to eat; +that is, what people, born as they were, designate as bread; proper +food. They carry the signs of it in their countenances." + +"And for Lady Oswald to have left her money away from them! To whom +has she left it?" + +"To one who has no right to it, who never expected it." + +"I suppose you mean Sir Philip?" + +"No, it is not left to him. But now, give me your opinion, Sara. Let +us for argument's sake put ourselves in the position of this fortunate +legatee. Suppose--suppose, my dear it were left to _you_: this money +to which you have no claim, no right--to which others have a claim, +how should you feel?" + +"I should feel uncomfortable," replied Sara. "I should feel that I was +enriched at the expense of the Stephensons; I am sure that I should +feel almost as though I had committed a fraud. Papa," she added more +eagerly, the idea occurring to her, "I should like to give the money +back to them." + +"That is the very argument I have been using myself. Wedderburn, Lady +Oswald's lawyer, has been here, talking of the matter, and I told +him that were I the man to whom it was left, I should give it back, +every shilling of it, to the channel where it ought at once to have +gone--the brothers Stephenson. Wedderburn did not agree with me: he +brought forward the argument that the man's children might reproach +him afterwards. What do you think?" + +"I think, papa, that were I the man you speak of, I should act upon my +own judgment, and give it back without reference to the opinion of my +children." + +"That is precisely what he has resolved to do. Sara, the money is left +to me." + +Sara Davenal, taken completely by surprise, halted in her walk and +looked at the Doctor, not knowing how to believe him. + +"It is true, Sara. I find I am the favoured legatee of Lady Oswald: +knowing at the same time that I have no more right to be so than have +those espalier rose-trees at your side. I have resolved to refuse the +money; to repudiate the will altogether, so far as my share in it +goes; and to suffer a previous will to be acted upon, which gives the +money to the Stephensons. I trust my children will not hereafter turn +round and reproach me." + +"O papa!" + +She spoke the words now almost reproachfully, in reproach that he +could ever think it. + +"Yes, I shall do it, Sara. And yet," he added, his voice insensibly +sinking to a whisper, "I have heavy need for money just now, and the +help these thousands would be to me no one but myself knows." + +Sara was silent. A shiver passed over her face at the allusion. She +did not dare reply to it. The subject was too painful; and, besides, +she was kept partially in the dark. + +"But I cannot tamper with my conscience," resumed Dr. Davenal. "Were I +to take this money, it would only lie like a weight upon it for my +whole future life. I believe--and, Sara, I wish you to believe it and +treasure it as an assured truth--that money appropriated by ourselves, +which in point of right, of justice, belongs to others, _never_ comes +home to us with a blessing. However safely the law may give it us and +the world deem our claim to it legitimate, if we deprive others of it, +whose it is by every moral and--may I say it?--divine right, that +money will not bless us or our children. Sara, I speak this from the +experience of an observant life." + +"I am sure you are right, papa," she murmured. "Do not keep this +money." + +"I shall not. But, Sara,"--and Dr. Davenal stopped in his walk, +and his voice grew solemn in its tone as he laid his hand upon +her--"things have changed with me. I cannot now foresee the future. I +thought I was laying up a competency for my children; not a great one, +it is true, but one that would have kept them above the extreme frowns +of the world. This I have had to fling away--my hard-earned savings. +It may be that I shall now have to leave you, my cherished daughter, +to the world's mercy; perhaps--I know not--compelled to work for your +living in it. Should this come to pass, you will not cast back a +reflection on your dead father, and reproach him for a rejection of +these thousands." + +The tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her pleading hand, her +loving look, was his first answer. "You could not keep the money, +papa. It would not be right in God's sight. Do not hesitate." + +"I have not hesitated, Sara. My mind has been made up from the first. +But I preferred to speak to you." + +Neal came forward to summon Dr. Davenal. His patients were waiting for +him. Sara turned to rejoin her aunt. + +"You can tell her about this legacy to me, Sara; it will be the talk +of the town before the day's out. And explain to her why I decline +it." + +The afternoon drew to its close. Dr. Davenal, engaged with a +succession of patients, scarcely noticed its elapse. A wish was +running through his mind to see Mr. Oswald Cray, and he hoped he would +be calling. When dinner-time came and he had not come, that note, +previously mentioned, was pencilled, and Neal despatched with it. + +The man brought the message back in due course "Mr. Oswald Cray was +unable to call upon the doctor, as he was departing for London." Dr. +Davenal was disappointed; he had wished to explain to Oswald Cray his +intentions respecting the money; he considered it due to him, Oswald, +to do so. + +How is it that there are times when an idea, without any apparent +cause to lead to it, any reason to justify it, takes sudden possession +of the mind? Even as Neal spoke, such an idea seated itself in Dr. +Davenal's. He fancied that Oswald Cray was in some way not pleased at +the disposition of Lady Oswald's property, as regarded Dr. Davenal; +was in a degree, more or less, resenting it. It only made the doctor +doubly desirous of seeing him. + +But there was no chance of it at present, Oswald Cray having left +Hallingham. Dr. Davenal put on his hat and went out to take a walk as +far as Lady Oswald's. + +He found the Rev. Mr. Stephenson alone. His brother had departed. The +clergyman received him somewhat awkwardly. He had been brooding over +his disappointment all by himself; had been thinking what a crying +wrong it was that the money should be left to the flourishing and +wealthy physician, Dr. Davenal, who put as many guineas into his +pocket daily as would keep him and his family in their humble way for +months. He was casting his anxious thoughts to the future, wondering +how his children were to be educated, foreseeing nothing but +embarrassment and struggle to the very end of his life; and I am not +sure that his heart at that moment towards that one man was not full +of envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Ministers of the +gospel are but human, swayed at times by evil passions, just as we +are. + +But, being in this frame of mind, it a little confused the reverend +gentleman to see the object of his envy standing before him. Dr. +Davenal drew forward a seat. + +"I daresay, Mr. Stephenson, if the truth were known, you were at this +very moment bestowing upon me plenty of hard names." + +It was so exceedingly like what Mr. Stephenson had been doing, that +all the reply he could make was a confused stammer. Dr. Davenal, who, +for the interview, appeared to have put away from the surface his +hidden care, resumed in a frank, free tone-- + +"I have no right to the money, have I? It ought to have gone to you +and your brother?" + +"Well, sir--perhaps you had been led to expect it by Lady Oswald," was +the clergyman's answer. Of a timid and refined nature, he could not, +to Dr. Davenal's face, express his sense of the wrong. With Dr. +Davenal before him, cordial and open, he began to think the wrong +less. That is, that it was not so much the doctor's fault as he had +been angrily deeming. + +"No, she never led me to expect anything of the sort; and you cannot +be more surprised than I am at its being left to me," said the doctor. +"When Mr. Wedderburn came to me with the news, I could not believe +him. However, it appears to be the fact." + +"Yes," meekly rejoined the clergyman; "it is." + +"And I have now come to inform you, that I shall not take the money, +Mr. Stephenson. Not a stiver of it. The will, so far as it concerns +me, may be regarded as a dead letter, for all practical use. I have +desired Mr. Wedderburn to transfer the money to you and your brother; +and if this may not legally be, if I must, despite myself, accept the +money, I only take it to restore it to you. You will not be too proud +to accept it from me?" + +Was he listening to fact?--or was he in a dream? The words, to the +minister's ear, did not savour of reality. His pale face grew moist +with emotion, his trembling hands entwined their thin fingers +together. He did not dare to ask, Was it real? lest the answer should +dissolve the spell, and prove it but illusion. + +"I could not accept of this great sum to the prejudice of others who +have a right to it," resumed Dr. Davenal. "I should fear its proving +something like ill-gotten gains, that bring evil with them, instead of +good. The money shall be yours and your brother's, Mr. Stephenson, +just as surely as though it had been left to you by Lady Oswald. The +diamond ring I shall keep and value, but not a shilling of the money. +I thought I would come up and tell you this." + +The tears were welling into that poor gentleman's eyes, as he rose and +clasped the hand of Dr. Davenal. "If you could see what I have +suffered; if you could only imagine the struggle life has been to me, +you would know what I feel at this moment. Heaven send its blessings +on your generosity!" + +The doctor quitted him. He had found a heavy heart, he left a glad +one. He quitted him and went forth into the stillness of the autumn +night. + +He glanced towards the bright stars as he walked along, thinking of +the future. And a prayer went up from his heart to the throne of +heaven--that, if it was God's will, his children might not feel +hereafter the sacrifice he had made--that God would bless them and be +merciful to them when he should be gone. The last few days had been +sufficient to teach Dr. Davenal, had he never known it before, in how +great need the apparently safest amongst us stand of this ever-loving +mercy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. +COMPANY FOR MR. OSWALD CRAY. + + +For some days subsequent to the interview with Neal, and that valuable +servant's startling communication, Mr. Oswald Cray remained in what +may be called a sea of confusion. The unhappy circumstances attendant +on Lady Oswald's death never left his mind, the strange suspicions +first arising naturally, as they did arise, and then augmented by +Neal's disclosure, seemed to be ever waging hot war within him, for +they were entirely antagonistic to sober reason, to his life-long +experience of Dr. Davenal. + +It cannot be denied that Oswald Cray, calm of temperament though he +was, sound of judgment, did fall into the snare that the web of events +had woven around him; and, in the midnight watches, when things wear +to our senses a weird, ghost-like hue, the disagreeable word murder +suggested itself to him oftener than he would have cared to confess in +broad matter-of-fact daylight. But as the days went on his senses came +to him. Reason reasserted her empire, and he flung the dark doubt +from him, as unworthy of himself and the present enlightened age. It +was impossible to connect such a crime with Dr. Davenal. + +But still, though he shook off the worst view, he could not shake off +the circumstances and their suspicion. Perhaps it was next to +impossible, knowing what he did know of the doctor's sentiments as to +chloroform, hearing, as he had heard, Neal's account of the words +spoken at the midnight interview, that he should shake them off. They +turned and twisted themselves about in his mind in spite of his will; +he would have given much to get rid of them, but he could not. Now +taking one phase, now another, now looking dark, now light, there they +were, like so many phantoms, ever springing up from different corners +of his mind, and putting legitimate thoughts out of it. Up and in bed, +at work or at rest, were those conflicting arguments ever dancing +attendance on him, until, from sheer perplexity, his brain would seem +to lose its subtle powers, and grow dull from very weariness. But the +worst aspect of the affair gradually lost its impression, and reason +drove away the high colours of imagination. + +The conclusion to which he at length came, and in which he finally +settled down, was that Dr. Davenal had been in a partial degree +guilty. He _could not_ think that he had given that chloroform to Lady +Oswald with the deliberate view of taking her life, as some of our +worst criminals have taken lives: but he did believe there was some +hidden culpability attached to it. Could it have been given in +forgetfulness?--or by way of experiment?--or carelessly? Oswald Cray +asked himself those questions ten times in a day. No, no, reason +answered; Dr. Davenal was not a man to forget, or to experimentalise, +or to do things carelessly. And then, with the answer, rose the one +dark, awful doubt again, tormenting him not less with its shadows than +with its preposterous absurdity. + +What clung to his mind more than all the rest was, that he could see +no solution, or chance of solution, to the question of why chloroform +was administered, why even it was taken to the house. Had Dr. Davenal +frankly answered him when questioned, "I thought, in spite of my +conversation with you, that chloroform might be ventured upon with +safety, that it would ease her sufferings, and was absolutely +necessary to calm her state of excitement," why he could have had no +more to say, however lamenting the fatal effects. But Dr. Davenal had +answered nothing of the kind. On the contrary, he had been mysterious +over it, and at length flatly refused to satisfy him at all. So far as +Oswald Cray could see, there was no other solution, then or ever, that +could be arrived at, save that the chloroform had been administered +wilfully and deliberately. If so, then with what view had Dr. +Davenal---- + +At this point Oswald Cray always pulled his thoughts up, or strove to +do so, and plunged desperately into another phase of the affair as if +he would run away from dangerous ground. Once he caught himself +wondering whether, if the doctor had been deliberately guilty, it lay +in his duty--his, Oswald Cray's--to bring him to account for it. No +living being save himself, so far as he trusted, had been cognisant of +Dr. Davenal's strong opinion of chloroform as applied to Lady Oswald. +Ought he, then, not only in the obligation which lies upon all honest +men to bring crime to light, but as a connection of Lady Oswald's, +ought he to be the Nemesis, and denounce---- + +With a quicker beating of the heart, with a burning flush upon his +brow, Oswald Cray started from the train of thought. Into what strange +gulf was it carrying him? Ah, not though it had been his fate to see +the crime committed, and to know that it was a crime, would _he_ be +the one to bring it home to Richard Davenal! The man whom he had so +respected; the father of her who possessed his best love, and who +would possess it, in spite of his efforts to withdraw it, for all +time? No; not against _him_ could his hand be raised in judgment. + +_In spite of his efforts to withdraw his love?_ Had it come to that +with Oswald Cray? Indeed it had. He could not fathom the affair, it +remained to him utterly incomprehensible, but that Dr. Davenal was in +some way or other compromised by it, terribly compromised, seemed as +plain as the sun at noonday. And Mr. Oswald Cray, in his haughty +spirit, his besetting pride, decided that he could no longer be on +terms of friendship with him, and that Sara Davenal must be no wife of +his. + +What it cost him to come to this resolution of casting her adrift, +none save Heaven knew. The struggle remained on his memory for years +afterwards as the sorest pain life had ever brought him. It was the +bitter turning-point which too many of us have to arrive at, and pass; +the dividing link which dashes away the sunny meads, the flowery paths +of life's young romance, and sends us stumbling and shivering down the +stony road of reality. None knew, none ever would know, what that +struggle was to Oswald Cray. + +Not a struggle as to the course he should pursue--the breaking off +intimacy with her: never for a single moment did he hesitate in that. +The struggle lay with his feelings, with his own heart, where she was +entwined with its every fibre, part and parcel of its very self. He +strove to put her out thence, and she would not be put out. There she +remained, and he was conscious that there she would remain for many a +dreary year to come. + +But for his overweening pride, how different things might have been! +He was too just a man to include Sara in the doctor's--dare he say +it?--crime. Although Neal had said that Miss Sara Davenal had been +made cognisant of it, Oswald did not visit upon her one iota of blame. +She was no more responsible for the doctor's acts than he was, neither +could she help them. No, he did not cast a shadow of reproach upon +her; she had done nothing to forfeit his love; but she was her +father's daughter, and therefore no fit wife for him. One whose pride +was less in the ascendant than Mr. Oswald Cray's, whose self-esteem +was less sensitively fastidious, might have acted upon this +consciousness of her immunity from blame, and set himself to see +whether there was not a way out of the dilemma rather than have given +her up, off-hand, at the very first onset. He might have gone in his +candour to Dr. Davenal and said, "I love your daughter; I had wished +to make her my wife; tell me confidentially, is there a reason why I, +an honourable man, should not?" Not so Mr. Oswald Cray and his haughty +pride. Without a single moment of hesitation he shook himself free +from all future contact with the daughter of Dr. Davenal, just as he +was trying to shake her from his heart. Never more, never more, might +he look forward to the life of happiness he had been wont to picture. + +It was a cruel struggle, cruel to him; and the red flush of shame +mantled on his brow as he thought of the binding words he had spoken +to her, and the dishonour that must accrue to him in breaking them. +There was not a man on the face of the earth whose sense of honour was +more keen than Oswald Cray's, who was less capable of wilfully doing +aught to tarnish it; and yet that tarnishing was thrust upon him. +Anyway, it seemed that a great stain must fall upon it. To take one to +be his wife whose father was a suspected man would be a blot indeed; +and to slip through the words he had spoken, never more to take notice +of her or them, was scarcely less so. He felt it keenly; he, the man +of unblemished conduct, and, it may be said, of unblemished heart. + +But still he did not for a moment hesitate. Great as the pain was to +himself, little as she, in her innocence, deserved that the slight +should be inflicted on her, he never wavered in that which he knew +must be. The only question that arose to him was, how it should be +best done. Should he speak to her?--or should he gradually drop all +intimacy and let the fact become known to her in that way? Which would +be the kinder course? That the separation would be productive of the +utmost pain to her as to him, that she loved him with all the fervour +of a first and pure attachment, he knew; and he felt for her to his +very heart's core. He hated himself for having to inflict this pain, +and he heartily wished, as things had turned out, that he had never +yielded to the pleasure of becoming intimate at Dr. Davenal's. Well, +which should be his course? Oswald Cray sat over his fire one cold +evening after business was over, and deliberated upon it. Some weeks +had gone on then. He leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, and +bent his cheek on his hand, and gazed abstractedly on the blaze. He +shrank from the very idea of speaking to her. No formal engagement +existed between them: it had been implied more than spoken; and he +would be scarcely justified in say to her, "I cannot marry you now," +considering that he had never in so many words asked her to marry him +at all. She might regard it as a gratuitous insult. + +But, putting that aside, he did not see his way clear to speak to her. +What reason could he give for his withdrawal He could not set it down +to his own caprice; and he could not--no, he _could not_--put forth to +her the plea of her father's misdoing. He began to think it might be +better to maintain silence, and so let the past and its words die +away. If---- + +He was aroused from his train of thought by the entrance of a woman--a +woman in a black bonnet, and sleeves turned up to the elbow, with a +rather crusty expression of face. This was Mrs. Benn the housekeeper, +cleaner, cook of the house. It did not lie in Mrs. Benn's province to +wait on Mr. Oswald Cray, or she would probably have attired herself +more in accordance with her duty. It lay in her husband's, and he had +been sent out this evening by Mr. Oswald Cray on business connected +with the firm. On cleaning days--and they occurred twice in the +week--Mrs. Benn was wont to descend in, the morning in the black +bonnet, and keep it on until she went to bed. It was not worn as +bonnets are worn usually; the crown behind and the brim before; but +was perched right on the top of her head, brim downwards and Mrs. Benn +was under a firm persuasion that this kept her hair and her cap free +from the dust she was wont to raise in sweeping. She was about forty, +but looked, fifty, and her face had got a patch of black-lead upon it, +and a nail had torn a rent in her check apron. + +"Wouldn't you like the things taken away, sir?" she asked in a tone as +crusty as her look. "I'm waiting to wash 'em up." + +This recalled Oswald Cray's notice to the fact that the remains of his +dinner were yet upon the table. He believed he had rung for them to be +taken away when he turned to the fire; and there he had sat with his +back to them since, never noticing that nobody had come to do it. It +was now a little past seven, and Mrs. Benn had grown angry and +indignant at the waiting. + +"I declare I thought they had gone away," he said. "I suppose the bell +did not ring. I am sure I touched it." + +"No bell have rung at all," returned Mrs. Benn resentfully. "I stood +down there with my hands afore me till the clock had gone seven, and +then I thought I'd come up and see what was keeping 'em. You haven't +ate much this evening, sir," she added, looking at the dish of steak +and the potatoes. "I don't think you have eat much lately. Don't you +feel well?" + +"Well! I am very well," he replied carelessly, rising from his chair +and stretching himself. "Is Benn not back yet?" + +"No, he is not back," she returned, her tone becoming rather an +explosive one, boding no good for the absent Mr. Benn. "He don't seem +to hurry himself, _he_ don't, though he knows if he didn't get back I +should have to come up here: and very fit I be on my cleaning days to +appear before a gentleman." + +"Is it necessary to clean in a bonnet?" asked Oswald quietly. + +"It's necessary to clean in something, sir, to protect one's head from +the fluff and stuff that collects. One would wonder where it comes +from, all in a week. I used to tie a apron over my cap, but it was +always coming off, or else blowing its corners into the way of one's +eyes." + +Oswald laughed. He remembered the apron era, and the guy Mrs. Benn +looked. For twelve years had she and her husband been the servants of +that house. Formerly Mr. Bracknell, an old bachelor, had lived in it, +and Benn and his wife waited on him, as they now did on Mr. Oswald +Cray. + +"Would you like tea this evening, sir?" she inquired. For sometimes +Oswald took tea and sometimes he did not. + +"Yes; if you bring it up directly. I am going out." + +She went away with her tray of things. Down the first flight of +stairs, past the offices, and down again to the kitchen. The ground +floor of this house in Parliament Street was occupied by the offices +of the firm, and partially so the floors above. Oswald Cray had two or +three rooms for his own use; his sitting-room, not a very large one, +being on the first floor. + +His train of thought had been broken by the woman, and he did not +recall it. He stepped into an adjoining apartment, lighted a shaded +lamp, sat down, and began examining a drawing of some complicated +plans. Pencil in hand, he was deep in the various mysteries pertaining +to engineering, when he heard Mrs. Benn and the tea-tray. He finished +marking off certain lines and strokes on a blank sheet of paper--which +he did after a queer fashion, his eyes fixed on the drawing, and his +fingers only appearing to guide the pencil--before he went in. + +He had not hurried himself, and the tea must be getting cold. Mrs. +Benn was in the habit of making it downstairs, so that he had no +trouble. It was by no means a handsome tea equipage--party belonging, +in fact, to Mrs. Benn herself. The black teapot had a chipped spout, +and the black milk-jug had a fray on its handle, and the china tea-cup +was cracked across. Oswald's china tea-service had been handsome +once--or rather Mr. Bracknell's, for it was to that gentleman the +things in the house belonged; but Mrs. Benn had what she herself +called a "heavy hand at breakage," and two or three cups and saucers +were all that remained. Oswald determined to buy himself a decent +tea-set, but somehow he never thought of it, and the elegant equipage +came up still. + +He poured himself out a cup, stirred it, and then went for the sheet +of paper on which he had been making the strokes and scrawls. Mrs. +Benn knew her master well. He had said he was going out, but he was +just as likely to remain over these strokes all the evening as to go +out; perhaps, even, in forgetfulness keep her tea-things up until ten +o'clock, or until she went for them. Oswald Cray was one whose heart +was in his profession, and work was more pleasant to him than +idleness. + +He was busy still over this paper, neglecting his tea, when Mrs. Benn +came in again. He thought she had come very soon for her tea-tray +tonight. But she had not come for that. + +"Here's company now, sir! A young lady wants to see you." + +"A young lady!" repeated Oswald. "To see me?" + +"Well, I suppose she's a young lady--from what one can see of her +through her black veil; but she come to my kitchen bell only, when the +knocker was a-staring her right in the face," returned Mrs. Benn. "She +asked for you, sir. I said, was it any message I could take up, but +she says she wants to speak to you herself." + +"You can show her up." + +Mrs. Benn accomplished this process in a summary manner. Going down +the stairs to the hall, where she had left the applicant, she briefly +said to her, "You can go up. First door you come to that's open"--and +then left the lady to find her way. Had her husband, Benn, been at +home, he would have asked her what she meant by introducing a visitor +in that fashion to Mr. Oswald Cray; and he would probably have got for +answer a sharp order to mind his own business. In point of fact, Mrs. +Benn, on those two dark interludes of her weekly existence, cleaning +days, had neither time nor temper to waste on superfluous ceremony. + +Oswald Cray had bent over his paper again, attaching little importance +to the advent of the visitor; he supposed it might be some messenger +from one or other of the clerks. The footfall on the stairs was soft +and light; Oswald's back was to the door, and his lines and marks were +absorbing his attention. + +"Mr. Oswald Cray?" + +It was a sweet and pleasant and sensible voice, with a Scotch accent +very perceptible to English ears. It was the voice of a lady, and +Oswald Cray started up hastily, pencil in hand. + +A short, slight, very young-looking woman, with a fair face and blue +eyes, stood before him. Strictly speaking, there was no beauty +whatever in the face, but it was so fair, so frank, so honest, with +its steady good sense and its calm blue eyes, that Oswald Cray warmed +to it at once. She was dressed plainly in black, and she threw back +her crape veil to speak--as most sensible women like to do. To +Oswald's eyes, seeing her by that light, she looked about one or two +and twenty, as she had to Mrs. Benn: her light complexion, her small +features, and her slight figure were all of that type that remain +young a long while. In his surprise he did not for the moment speak, +and she repeated the words, not as a question this time-- + +"You are Mr. Oswald Cray." + +"That is my name," he answered, recovering his equanimity. "May I----" + +"I come to you from my brother, Frank Allister," she interrupted. "I +am Jane Allister." + +She pronounced the name "Jean" as she had in fact been christened, but +it generally gets corrupted into Jane by English ears and English +tongues. Oswald so interpreted it. His whole face lighted up with a +smile of welcome; it may be said of recognition. He had heard so much +of this good sister from his friend Frank Allister. + +"I am so glad you have come to him!" he warmly exclaimed, taking her +hand. "Frank has almost pined for you: but he did not expect you yet. +I seem to know you quite well: he has talked to me of you so much." + +"Thank you; I'll take it," she said, in answer to the chair he +offered. "And I will take off my fur," she added, unwinding a boa from +her neck, and untying her bonnet-strings. "Your room feels very warm +to one coming in from the keen air outside." + +There was something in her frank manners that struck most pleasingly +on the mind of Oswald. She sat there as confidingly in his room as +though he had been her brother: a good, modest, single-minded woman, +whom even a bad man could not do otherwise than respect. + +"Yes, I came before Frank expected me;" she said. "I did not think I +could have come so soon; but my friends kindly released me. You know +my situation--why I could not come to him before." + +"I know that you are"--Oswald hesitated for a moment, and then went +bravely on. Before that clear eye of plain good sense there was no +need to mince the matter, and pretend ignorance. + +"I know that you are companion-attendant to a lady. And that you could +not leave her." + +"I have been companion and maid to her all in one," said Miss +Allister. "When I and Frank had to go out into the world and do the +best we could for ourselves, I was obliged to look out for what I was +most fitted for. Our dead mother's brother offered to help Frank, and +he paid the premium with him to this house, and assisted him +otherwise, and I was very glad it should be so----" + +"You mean Mr. Brown?" interrupted Oswald. + +"Yes. He lived in London. My mother was English born and reared. He +was a good friend to us so long as he lived. It was necessary that I +should go out; and a situation offered in a lady's family, Mrs. +Graham. She wanted some one who would be her companion, sit with her, +read to her, some one well reared, of whom she might make an equal, +but who would at the same time act as maid; and I took it. But perhaps +you have heard all this from Frank?" + +"No, not these past details. Though he has talked of you very much. He +has told me"--Oswald broke into a frank smile as he said it--"that his +sister Jane was worth her weight in gold." + +"I should be sorry to think that most sisters are not worth as much as +I am," she gravely answered. "I have but done my duty, so far as I +could do it, and the worst of us ought to do no less. When Frank found +I acted as maid to Mrs. Graham he was very much put out, and wanted me +to give up the situation and seek a different one. But I laughed at +him for a proud boy, and I have stayed on until now. What am I the +worse for it? I dressed her, and served her, and when of late years +she got ill and helpless, I nursed and fed her. I had become so useful +to her--I must say, so indispensable--that when news reached me of +Frank's illness, I could not quit her to come to him. I tried to see +which way my duty lay; to leave her for my sick brother, or to leave +my brother to strangers, and stay with my dying and helpless friend +and mistress, Every week we expected would be her last; she has been +slowly dying for these three months; and I felt that it would be wrong +to abandon her. That, you see, is why I could not come to Frank." + +"Is she dead?" asked Oswald. + +"O yes. This mourning that I am wearing is for her. And as soon as it +was possible after the funeral I came away. We had a long and bad +passage, two days, and I did not reach Frank until three o'clock this +afternoon." + +"You should have come by land," observed Oswald. + +"Nay, but that would have cost more," she simply answered. "And I +know that Frank was better, so as to be in no vital hurry for my +presence. I have come to you, sir, this evening, to ask your opinion +of his state. Will you be so kind as to give it me?" + +"First of all will you permit me to invite you to take a cup of tea?" +replied Oswald, turning round to look at the tray, which was on the +opposite side of the table, next the door. + +"No, I thank you," she replied, "I gave Frank his tea before I came +out, and took some with him. But will you let me pour out a cup for +you? I saw that I interrupted you." + +Before Oswald could decline, she had taken her gloves off, and was +round at the tray, putting it in order. That a bachelor had been doing +the honours of the ceremony was only too apparent. The teapot was +stuck on the side of the tray, spout forwards; the milk-jug was not on +the tray at all, but ever so far away on the table. Jane Allister had +put all this to rights in a twinkling, and was pouring the slop of +cold tea out of his tea-cup into the basin. + +"Not for me," said Oswald, feeling as if he had known her for years. +"You are very kind, but I have taken all I wish." + +"Nay, not kind at all," she said, looking at him with some surprise. +"I'd have been glad to do it for you." + +Oswald had risen, and she came back from the tea-tray, and stood by +him on the hearth-rug. Her bonnet still untied, her gloves off, her +face and attitude full of repose, she looked like one in her own home. + +"You'll tell me freely what you think of Frank?" + +There was not the slightest shade of doubt in her voice; she evidently +expected that he would tell it her; tell it her freely, as she asked +for it. She stood with her fair face raised, her candid blue eyes +thrown full up to his. + +Oswald drew her chair forward for her, and took his own, pausing +before he spoke. In good truth, he scarcely now knew what was his +opinion of Frank Allister. It was one of those cases where the patient +seems at death's door, and then, to the surprise of all, the disease +takes a sudden turn, and appears to be almost gone. In the previous +month, October, Oswald Cray had believed that a few days must see the +end of Frank Allister; this, the close of November, he was apparently +getting well all one way. + +"I do not quite know how to answer you," Oswald began. "Five or six +weeks ago Frank was so ill that I did not think there remained the +least chance for him, but he has changed in a wonderful manner. But +for the deceitfulness that is so characteristic of the disease, I +should believe him to be getting well. Remembering that, I can only +look upon it as a false improvement." + +Jane Allister paused. "I suppose there is no doubt that his symptoms +are those of consumption?" + +"None." + +"And consumption, if it does come on, is rarely if ever cured. Do you +think it is?" + +"Very rarely, I fear." + +"But again, I have known patients who have displayed every symptom of +consumption, have suffered much, and who have eventually got strong +and hearty, and continued so." + +"That is true," he assented. "There have been such instances. I wish I +could satisfy you better, but indeed I do not know what to think. Mr. +Bracknell asked me a day or two ago how Allister was getting on, and I +answered as I answer you--that I really could not tell him." + +"When I reached my brother's today and saw how well he appeared to be, +so different from what I had expected to find him, I could not help +expressing my surprise," said Miss Allister. "Frank gaily told me that +his illness and its supposed danger had been all a mistake, and he had +taken a new lease of life. I did not know what to think, what to +believe; and I determined to come here and ask your opinion. I could +not, you know, ask you before him." + +"And I cannot give you a decisive one," repeated Oswald. "I can only +hope that this improvement may go on to a complete restoration: and I +should think it, but for the treacherous nature of the disease. Frank +does certainly appear wonderfully strong and well. Even the doctor +cannot say that it will not end in recovery." + +"Frank wrote me word that you had caused him to see one of the great +London physicians, and that the opinion was unfavourable. But that was +when he was at the worst. You have been truly kind to him, Mr. Oswald +Cray, and when I came here tonight I felt that I was coming to a +friend." + +"I should like to be your friend always," returned Oswald, in an +unusual impulse. "I seem to have been so a long while, Frank has +talked to me so much of you." + +"Do you come to see him daily?" + +"Not daily; but as often as I can. It is some distance from here." + +"It is a long way. But I got misdirected. + +"You surely did not walk?" exclaimed Oswald. + +"To be sure I walked. How else should I come?" + +"There are conveyances--cabs and omnibuses." + +"But they cost money," she answered, with that frank, open plainness, +which, in her, seemed so great a charm. "I am not come away to England +devoid of means, but they will find plenty of outlets in necessary +things, without being spent in superfluities. Anyway, they must be +made to last both for me and Frank, until I can leave him and go out +again. I'd not speak of these things to you, Mr. Oswald Cray, but that +you must know all the particulars of our position." + +She had risen as she spoke, and was now tying her bonnet-strings. +Oswald picked up a glove which she dropped. + +"And now I'll wish you goodnight," she continued, putting her hand +frankly into his. "And I'd like to thank you with all my heart for +what you have done for Frank; for the good friend you have been to +him. You have brought to him help and comfort when there was nobody +else in the world to bring it. I shall always thank you in my heart, +Mr. Oswald Cray." + +Oswald laughed the words off, and attended her downstairs, catching up +his hat as he went through the hall. Mrs. Benn and her black bonnet +came up the kitchen stairs. + +"Goodnight," repeated Jane Allister. + +"I am going with you," said Oswald. + +She resisted the suggestion at first, saying she could find her way +back quite well; but Oswald quietly carried his point. + +He closed the door behind him, and offered his arm. She took it at +once, thanking him in a staid old-fashioned manner. Mrs. Benn drew the +door open and looked after them. + +"Arm-in-arm!" ejaculated that lady. "And he bending of his head down +to her to talk! Who on earth can she be?--coming after him to his +house--and stopping up there in the parlour--and keeping up of the +tea-things! It looks uncommon like as if he had took on a sweetheart. +Only----So it's you at last, is it, Joe Benn! And what do you mean by +stopping out like this?" + +The concluding sentences were addressed to a respectable-looking man +who approached the door. It was Joseph Benn, her husband, and the +faithful servant of the firm. + +"I couldn't make more haste," he quietly answered. + +"Not make more haste! Don't tell me. Mr. Oswald Cray expected you were +home an hour ago." + +"Mr. Oswald Cray will be quite satisfied that I have not wasted my +time when I tell him where I've been. Is he upstairs?" + +"No, he is not," she sharply answered. "Satisfied, indeed! Yes, he +looked satisfied when he saw me going up to wait upon him in this +guise, and to show in his company? And me waiting a good mortal hour +for his dinner-things, which he forgot was up which couldn't have +happened if you'd been at your post to wait at table. You go and stop +out again at his dinner-time, Joe Benn." + +Joe Benn made no rejoinder; experience had taught him that it was best +not. He passed her, and she shut the door with a bang. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. +MORE INSTILLED DOUBT. + + +The air was keen and frosty, and the flags of the streets were white +and clean--not a common feature in November--as they walked forth. +Oswald could but admire this straightforward Scotch girl, with her +open speech and her plain good sense. She was so young in appearance +that he could only think of her as a girl, though she had herself +reminded him that she was older than Frank. This, as he knew, must +bring her to a year or two past thirty: and in steadiness of manner +and solid independence she was two-and-forty. + +Reared in her Highland home, in every comfort for the earlier years of +her life, she had since had to buffet with the world. Her mother, a +widow since Frank was two years old, had enjoyed a good income, but it +died with her. The uncle in London took Frank, who was then a youth; +and Jane had to seek a situation. It was not easy to find. For a +governess she was not qualified, so many of what are called +accomplishments are essential nowadays, and Jane Allister had not +learnt them. She had received a good education, but a strictly plain +one. + +Waiting and waiting! No situation offered itself; and when she heard +of Mrs. Graham's she was well-nigh wearied out with the worst of all +weariness--that of long-continued disappointment, of hope deferred. +But for that weariness she might not have accepted a place where she +was to be personal attendant as well as companion. She took it, +determined to do her duty in it, to make the very best of it; and when +her brother Frank wrote to her in a commotion from his distant home in +London, where he was then with Bracknell and Street, she began by +making the very best of it to him, gaily and lightly. Frank had the +letter yet, in which she had jokingly called him--as she had just +related to Mr. Oswald Cray--a proud boy, and recommended him to "bring +down" his notions. Frank Allister had never been reconciled to it yet. +Jane had grown to like it; and she had remained there all these years, +conscientiously doing her duty. + +"Have you lost a friend lately?" she inquired, in allusion to the +crape band on Oswald's hat. + +"Yes," he briefly answered, wincing at the question, could Jane +Allister have seen it. All that past time of Lady Oswald's death, and +the events attending it, caused an inward shiver whenever they were +brought to his mind. + +"It is a grievous thing to lose relatives when they are dear to us," +remarked Jane. "There is an expression in your countenance at times +that tells me you have some source of sorrow." + +Whatever the expression she had noticed on his countenance, she would +have seen a very marked one now, had they been, as before, face to +face near a table-lamp. The old haughty pride came into it, and his +brow flushed blood-red. Oswald Cray was one of the very last to +tolerate that his secret feelings should be observed or commented +upon. As she spoke it seemed to him as if the pain at his heart was +read, his hopeless love for Sara Davenal laid bare. + +"You are drawing a wrong inference, Miss Allister," he coldly said. +"The friend I lost was neither near nor very dear to me. She was an +old lady; a connection of my mother's family--Lady Oswald." + +Jane marked the changed tone. She concluded the loss _was_ one of pain +to him, though he did not choose to say so, and she gathered her +deductions that he was a man of great reticence of feeling. That he +was a brave man and a good man, one in every way worthy of trust, of +esteem, she knew from Frank long ago. + +"Why, Neal! Is it you?" + +Mr. Oswald Cray came to an abrupt halt in his surprise. Turning out of +the door of a house that they were passing, so quickly as nearly to +brush against him, was Dr. Davenal's manservant. Neal did not appear +in the least taken to. He touched his hat and stood still with just +the same equanimity that he would have done had he been waiting there +for the passing of Mr. Oswald Cray. + +"What has brought you to London, Neal? You have surely not left Dr. +Davenal?" + +"O no, sir, I have not left. A brother of mine, sir, has returned to +England after an absence from it of many years, and a little property +of ours, that couldn't be touched while he was away, is now being +divided. I spoke to Dr. Davenal, and he gave me leave to come." + +"Have you been up long?" + +"Only three days, sir." + +"Are they all well at Hallingham?" + +"Quite well, sir. Mr. Cray hurt his arm as he was getting out of the +doctor's carriage, and it was bound up for a week. But it is better." + +"How did he manage that?" + +"I don't think he knew, sir. His foot slipped as he was stepping out, +and he swung round in some way, keeping hold of the carriage with his +hand bent behind. It was rather a bad sprain." + +"Miss Davenal is quite well?" + +"Yes, sir. Miss Sara has had a cold lately, and is looking ill. The +captain went abroad, sir, without coming to Hallingham, and they all +felt it much." + +Oswald bade the man goodnight, and walked on. He did not care, in his +fastidious sensitiveness, to hear the looks of Sara Davenal commented +on. If she did look ill, was it for his, Oswald's, sake!--or was she +haunted with that unhappy secret which Neal had once so darkly hinted +at? + +Neal stood within the shade of the house looking after Mr. Oswald +Cray, or rather after the young lady leaning on his arm. Neal was very +curious as to this young lady, for young she looked in Neal's +eyes. While apparently his whole attention was absorbed by his +conversation with Mr. Oswald Cray, he had been studying the face +turned to him; a fair and sensible face, as Mr. Neal could read, +though less good-looking than Miss Sara Davenal's. What with Neal's +legitimate observation and his illegitimate ferreting habits, he had +contrived to arrive at a very ingenious conjecture of the tacit +relations which had existed between Mr. Oswald Cray and Dr. Davenal's +daughter; and Neal had of late been entertaining a rather shrew guess +that Mr. Oswald Cray intended those relations to cease. He judged by +the fact that the gentleman had never once, since Lady Oswald's +funeral, been inside the doctor's doors. A formal call and a left +card during one of his visits to Hallingham, had comprised all the +notice taken. Tolerably safe appearances these, from which Neal drew +his conclusions; and it perhaps may be pardoned one of Neal's +conclusion-drawing mind, that he asked himself whether this young +lady had superseded Miss Sara. + +"It looks uncommonly like it," he repeated to himself, as his gaze +followed them in the distance. "I should like to be certain, and to +know who she is. She looks like a lady--and _he'd_ not take up with +anybody that was not one. Suppose I just see where they go? I have +nothing particular on my hands this evening." + +Gingerly treading the streets, as one who knows he is bent upon some +surreptitious expedition is apt to tread them, Neal stepped along, +keeping Mr. Oswald Cray and his companion sufficiently in view not to +lose them. After a sufficiently long walk, they entered a house on the +confines of Chelsea, bordering upon Brompton; the middle one of a row +of moderate-sized houses, with small gardens before the doors. Neal +saw Mr. Oswald Cray knock; and a young servant-maid admitted them. + +But this left Neal as wise as before. He could see the house, could +read the name of the Terrace, "Bangalore Terrace," in large black +letters at either end; but this did not tell the name of the lady, +or who she was; and Bangalore Terrace, though sufficiently +respectable-looking, was certainly not the class of terrace to which +it might be expected Mr. Oswald Cray would go for a wife. + +Neal might have remained in his ignorance until now but for a +fortunate accident. He was taking a last look at the house ere he +turned away, at the light which shone behind the blinds of the +first-floor windows, when the same servant who had opened the door +came running out, her bonnet just perched on her head, its strings +flying, and a jug and latch-key in her hand. As she passed Neal, the +unsecured bonnet flew off, and Neal gallantly picked it up. + +"I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, sir," she said, civilly. "Nasty +tilting things these new-fangled bonnets be! One doesn't know whether +to fix 'em atop of the back hair or under it." + +"Can you tell me where a Miss-- Miss---- It is very unfortunate," +broke off Neal in a tone of vexation. "I am in search of a young lady +on a little matter of business, and I have forgotten her number. I +think she lives at number five, but I am not sure." + +"Number five's our house," said the girl, falling readily into the +trap. "There ain't no young lady living there. There's three young +ladies at number six, sir; perhaps its one o' them." + +"No young lady living at number five!" repeated Neal + +"No, there isn't. There's only my missis, and me, and two sons, and +the gentleman what's ill on the first-floor. But perhaps you mean the +sick gentleman's sister?" she added, the thought striking her. "She +came to our house today, after a long journey all the way from +Scotland, and she's going to stop with him." + +Neal hardly thought this could apply. The young lady did not look as +though she had just come off a long journey. "I don't know," said he. +"What is her name!" + +"Her name's the same as her brother's--Allister. If you'd been here +two minutes sooner, sir, you might have seen her, for she's just come +in with Mr. Oswald Cray. He's a gentleman who comes to see Mr. +Allister." + +"Allister!" The name was conclusive without the other testimony. Neal +had once heard Mr. Oswald Cray describe his friend Allister's symptoms +to Dr. Davenal. This fair girl with the pleasant face was Miss +Allister, then! + +"Ah, it's not the same," said he cautiously. "I must come down by +daylight and look out. Goodnight, young woman; I am sorry to have +detained you," he said as he walked away. + +"Miss Allister!" repeated Neal to himself. "And so the brother's not +dead yet I remember Mr. Oswald Cray saying he could not live a week, +and that's three months ago." + +Frank Allister was sitting between the fire and the table, reading by +the light of the lamp, when they entered. He was slight and short, +with a fair skin like his sister's, and a long thin neck. The room was +very small, as the drawing-rooms (as they are called) in these +unpretending suburban houses mostly are. What with the smallness of +the room and the heavy closeness of the Brompton air, Jane Allister +had felt stifled ever since she arrived that day. Frank, without +rising from his seat, turned round and held his thin white fingers +towards Oswald Cray, who grasped them. + +"Jane, where have you been? I fancied you went out for but a few +minutes' walk." + +"I thought I would go as far as Mr. Oswald Cray's, Frank, and thank +him for his attention to you," was her answer. "He has been so kind as +to walk back with me." + +"But how did you find your way?" cried Frank, wonderingly. + +"I inquired. But I suppose I was stupid at understanding, for I went +out of my way. What a busy place London is! I should get bewildered if +I lived in it long." + +Oswald Cray laughed. "It would be just the contrary, Miss Allister. +The longer you lived in it the less bewildered you would be." + +"Ah, yes," she answered; "use reconciles us to most things." + +She had laid her bonnet and black shawl on a chair, and was going +noiselessly from one part of the room to another, putting in order +things that Frank had disturbed since her departure. He had wanted a +particular book, and to get it had displaced two whole shelves of the +cheffonier. The coal-box stood in the middle of the room, and a fancy +china inkstand, the centre ornament of the cheffonier, lay on a chair. +But the room, in its present general neatness and order, looked +different from anything Oswald had ever seen it. Sometimes there had +not been, as the saying runs, a place to sit upon. Frank ill, perhaps +careless, had paid little heed to how his room went, and his landlady +and his landlady's young maid had not much bestirred themselves in the +matter. When Jane arrived she had taken in all the discomfort at the +first glance, and did not sit down until it was remedied. Frank's +bedchamber was at the back, opening from it, and there was a small +room--a closet, in fact--at the bend of the stairs, which was to be +Jane's. + +Oswald followed her with his eyes, as she moved about in her simple +usefulness. Perhaps he wished that he had such a sister to make his +home a prettier place than it was made by Mrs. Benn. She was very +small in figure, and the folds of her soft black dress scarcely added +to its fulness. Her light hair was carried rather low on the cheeks, +and twisted into a coil on her neck behind. Without her outdoor things +she looked, if anything, younger than she did in them. + +"And so you went to Mr. Oswald Cray's, inquiring your way!" cried +Frank. "I say, young lady, that's not the fashion of doing things in +London." + +"May be not," answered Jane. "I daresay I and London shall not agree +in our notions of fashion. Have you taken your milk, Frank!" + +"I should think so. It was smoked again." + +"Smoked!" cried Jane, turning round and looking at him. + +"It generally is smoked," continued Frank. "I think their saucepans +downstairs must be constructed on the plan of letting the smoke in." + +Jane said no more. She inwardly resolved that neither Frank's milk nor +anything else that he took should be smoked in future. + +"Why don't you sit down, Oswald. Are you afraid of Jane?" + +"Not very much," Oswald answered, looking round at her with a smile. +"The fact is, Frank, I have some work to do at home tonight, and must +get back." + +"Plans to go over?" + +"That and other things." + +"I shall soon be well enough to come out again and go to work," +resumed Frank Allister; and his confident tone proved how firm was his +belief in his own words. "Will Bracknell and Street take me on again?" + +"I think you will soon be out if you go on improving at this rate," +answered Oswald, ignoring the last portion of Frank's words. "You look +better this evening than you have looked yet." + +"Oh, I am all right. But of course I look better, now Jane's here. +Nearly the first thing she did was to part and brush my hair, and make +me put on a clean collar. Only fancy her coming upon me today without +warning! When the girl came up to say there was a lady at the door in +a cab for Mr. Allister, I thought of anybody rather than Jane." + +Oswald Cray wished them goodnight, and walked leisurely home. He +really had some work to do, but he could have remained longer with +them, only that he thought they might prefer to be alone on this the +first evening of the sister's arrival. They had been apart for so many +years. + +Oswald let himself in with his latch-key. It must be supposed that +Mrs. Benn heard him; for she came running up the kitchen stairs, and +held put something to him under the light of the hall lamp. It +appeared to be a piece of narrow black ribbon, about a third of a yard +in length. + +"When I had got the tea-tray down in the kitchen, sir, I found this +a-hanging to it. I suppose the young lady that was with you upstairs +left it here." + +There was little doubt that Jane had left it. A wrist-ribbon probably, +inadvertently untied in pulling off her glove. Oswald looked at the +woman--at her crusty face, where the pert curiosity induced by the +visit was not yet subdued. A curiosity he judged it well to satisfy. + +"Did you know who that lady was, Mrs. Benn?" + +"No, sir." + +"It was poor Mr. Allister's sister. She has come all the way from +Scotland to nurse him." The crustiness disappeared; the face lighted +up with a better feeling. Mr. Allister had been a favourite of Mrs. +Benn's, and if she could be sorry for anybody's illness, she was sorry +for his. + +"Mr. Allister's sister! If I had but known it, sir! What a +pleasant-speaking young lady she is." Following his wife up the +kitchen stairs, had come Benn. He waited until this colloquy was over, +and then began to speak on his own account. + +"A gentleman is waiting for you in your sitting-room, sir." + +"Who is it?" asked Oswald. + +"I think he's a stranger, sir. I don't remember to have seen him +before." + +Oswald proceeded upstairs. Standing at the side of the room, facing +the door as he opened it, his gloves on and his hat in his hand, was +Neal. And so much like a gentleman did he really look that Mr. Joseph +Benn's mistake was a perfectly natural one. + +"I have taken the liberty of intruding upon you, sir, and of asking to +wait until you returned, to inquire whether I can convey anything for +you to Hallingham. You had hardly left me, sir, in the street, when I +remembered how very remiss it was in me not to ask you. Unless I have +a letter from the doctor tomorrow morning, according me a day or two's +more grace, which I have written for, I shall leave tomorrow evening. +If I can do anything there for you, sir, or be of use to you in +anyway, you may command me." + +"Thank you, Neal; there's nothing I want done. I expect to go down +myself next week. Come to the fire and warm yourself this cold night. +Sit down." + +Neal came forward nearer the fire; but he did not avail himself of the +invitation to sit. Oswald inquired if he would like some refreshment, +but he declined. + +"Have they heard from Captain Davenal yet, do you know?" Oswald asked. + +"I think not, sir. I believe they were expecting letters from Malta +when I left." + +"I wish he could have gone down for a short while. I am sure the +doctor felt it." + +"There's no doubt he did, sir, very much," returned Neal, with warm +sympathy in his low, respectful tone. "I grieve to say, sir, that the +doctor appears to be very much changed. He is more like one suffering +from some inward painful illness than anything else." + +"Of body or of mind?" involuntarily asked Oswald, speaking on the +moment's impulse. And however he may have regretted the question, he +could not recall it. + +"I should say of mind, sir. Since the night of--of Lady Oswald's +death, he has been a changed man." + +Mr. Oswald Cray made no answer whatever to the allusion; he evidently +declined to enter upon that unsatisfactory topic. Neal resumed. + +"There are going to be changes in our house, sir; it is to be +conducted with more regard to economy. Watton is to leave, and I am +not sure but I am also. Miss Davenal does not wish any changes to be +made, but the doctor says it is necessary." + +"On the score of economy?" + +"Yes, sir, on the score of economy. I heard him talking of it to Miss +Sara; he said if the present rate of expense was to go on, together +with the heavy sum that must now go from him yearly as hush-money, he +should not keep his head above water. Miss Davenal, who does not +understand why any retrenchment should be made, opposes it entirely." + +Every fibre in Oswald Cray's heart resented the words--he could not +bear that such should be spoken out boldly to him, no matter what +their truth might be. Neal's innocent eyes noticed the sudden flush +upon his face. + +"I think you must be mistaken, Neal. Hush-money! Dr. Davenal would +scarcely use the term to his daughter." + +"Not that precise term, perhaps, sir, but certainly something +equivalent to it. There is a rumour in the town, sir, that he intends +to resign to the relatives the legacy left to him by my lady, or part +of it." + +"Indeed?" + +"People have talked a great deal, I fancy, sir, and it has reached the +doctor's ears. Perhaps, sir, if I may venture to say it to you, he may +be _afraid_ to keep it. The injustice of the bequest might lead to +some investigation which--which would be inconvenient to Dr. Davenal." + +"Neal, I'd rather not enter upon these topics," said Oswald, in a +clear, resolute tone. "Things which appear dubious to us may be +explainable by Dr. Davenal. At any rate, it is neither your business +nor mine." + +And by those firm words Neal knew that Mr. Oswald Cray had, so to say, +washed his hands of the affair, and did not mean to take it up in +anyway. Neal's hopes had tended to the contrary, and it was a little +checkmate. + +"I thought I would presume to ask you, sir, whether you might not be +soon requiring a personal attendant," he resumed, sliding easily out +of his disappointment, and giving no token of it, "Should I be leaving +the doctor, it would afford me greater pleasure to serve you, sir, +than any one else, now my late lady's gone." + +Oswald laughed--he could not help it. "A valet for me, Neal! No, that +would never do under present circumstances. You will be at no fault +for a good place, rely upon it, should you leave Dr. Davenal. The good +places will be only too glad to contend for you." + +Neal did not dispute the assertion. What his precise motive might have +been for wishing to serve Mr. Oswald Cray, when he could no doubt +dispose of himself so much more advantageously, was best known to +himself. He made his adieu in his usual quiet and respectful fashion, +and took his departure, leaving Oswald Cray to the reminiscences of +the interview. Oswald sat over the fire as oblivious of the work he +had to do as he had been of the dinner-things earlier in the evening. +Will it be believed that the hint dropped by Neal--that Dr. Davenal +might be giving up the money because he dared not risk the danger of +any investigation--was grating unpleasantly on the brain of Oswald? +To do Neal justice so far, he himself fully believed that such was the +motive of Dr. Davenal, and he had spoken for once with an earnest +truthfulness that is never without its weight. + +It was unfortunate that this aspect of the affair should have been the +first given to Oswald Cray. Had he simply heard that Dr. Davenal was +declining the bequest in his generous consideration for the +Stephensons, it might perhaps have shaken his doubts of that other +dark story, since the only motive the doctor could possibly have had +throughout (as Oswald's mind had argued), was the acquirement of the +money. But if he was declining the money through fear, it only served +to make these doubts the greater. It was most unfortunate, I say, that +this aspect of the affair should have been imparted to him; for we all +know how little, how very little, will serve to strengthen suspicions +once aroused. + +He sat on with his unhappy thoughts far into the night, the image of +Sara Davenal ever before him. Never had his love for her been more +ardently tender, never had the cruelty of their obligatory separation +been so keenly present to his soul. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. +AN INCLEMENT AFTERNOON. + + +December came in with a drizzling rain, which lasted a day or two. A +cold, bleak, windy rain, rendering outdoor life miserable. As Sara +Davenal sat at her chamber window, looking into the street, the +shivering and uncomfortable appearance presented by the few passers-by +might have excited her compassion. + +But it did not. Truth to say, Sara Davenal had too much need of +compassion herself just now to waste it upon street passengers. The +greatest blight that can possibly fall upon the inward life of a woman +had fallen upon hers. Oswald Cray was faithless. She knew not how, she +knew not why; she only judged by his conduct that it must be so. He +had been two or three times to Hallingham, and had shunned her; had +shunned them altogether. There could be no better proof. One of the +visits he had remained three days; therefore he had not want of time +to plead as his excuse. He had called at the door, inquired for Miss +Davenal, and upon Neal's answering that Miss Davenal was out, he had +handed in cards. For Sara he had not asked at all, and he had not been +near the house since. + +Sara could do nothing. She could only accept this change in him and +bear it in silence. Had she been asked to pin her faith on the truth +and honour of any living man, she would have pinned it on Oswald +Cray's. Not because she loved him, not because it was to her his +allegiance was certainly due, but because she believed him to be, of +all others, the very soul of chivalrous integrity. But that he had +changed to her there could not be a shadow of doubt: his conduct +proved it. He had silently broken off all relations with her, and +given no token of what his motive could be. + +That some cause, just or unjust, had led to it, she yet did him the +justice to believe; he was the last man so to act from caprice, or +from a totally unworthy motive. And she knew he had loved her. In vain +she asked herself what this cause could be; but there were moments +when a doubt of whether the terrible secret, which had been imparted +that past night to Dr. Davenal, could have become known to Oswald +Cray. If so--why, then, in his high honour, his sensitive pride, he +had perhaps decided that she was no fit wife for him. And Sara could +not say that he had so decided unjustifiably. Whatever the cause, they +were separated. + +They were separated. And the sunshine of her life was over. Oh, the +bitter anguish that it cost! There is no pain, no anguish, that this +world and its many troubles can bring, like unto it--the finding one +false, upon whom love, in all the freshness of its first feeling, has +been lavished. The bright green of life's verdure is gone; the rich +blue has faded from the wintry sky. + +Sara said nothing, but the doctor spoke openly of the strange conduct +of Mr. Oswald Cray. + +"I know nothing that can have offended him," he observed; "unless he +has chosen to take umbrage at the money's having been left to me." + +"Nonsense," said Miss Davenal; "it's not that. Mr. Oswald Cray did not +want the money for himself; would not, it is said, have accepted it. +It is not that." + +And "It is not that," echoed Sarah Davenal's heart. + +"What else is it, then?" said the doctor. "Nobody in this house +has done anything to offend him. _You_ have not, I suppose, +Sara,"--suddenly turning upon her, as a faint doubt flashed into his +mind, never before admitted to it. + +The question brought to her she knew not what of emotion. She answered +it with an outward appearance of calmness, save for the burning red +that dyed her face. + +"Nothing, papa. The last time I spoke to Mr. Oswald Cray was the night +of the accident. We parted quite good friends--as we always had +parted." + +And the sweet words whispered by Oswald rose up before her as she +spoke. What a contrast! that time and this! + +"Just so," replied the doctor. "There has been nothing whatever to +cause this coolness on his part, except the business of the money. +Well, as I give it back to the family, perhaps my gentleman will come +round. Rely upon it, that pride of his has been touched in some manner +or other?" + +But the weeks had gone on, and December was in, and the gentleman had +not "come round" yet. Sara Davenal sat at her bedroom window, all her +shivering misery only too palpably present to her, as she watched the +cold rain falling on the wet streets, in the gloomy twilight of the +afternoon. + +She saw Roger bring the carriage round. She saw her father go out from +the house and step into it. It was the open carriage, but the head was +up, and Roger and his master were sheltered from the rain. It was not +the usual hour of Dr. Davenal's going out, but the bad day had kept +patients from calling on him, and a message had just been delivered +saying that a lady whom he attended, Mrs. Scott, was worse. + +Sara heard the house clock strike four, and the lamps were already +lighted in the streets. Night was coming on earlier than usual. The +gleaming of the pools of water in the rays of the gas lamps did not +tend to add to the cheerfulness of the scene; and Sara, with a shiver +that she could not suppress, quitted her room and went downstairs. + +The blaze and warmth of the dining-room, as seen through the open +door, was a welcome sight. She went in, and knelt down before the fire +on the hearth-rug, and laid her aching head for shelter against the +side of the marble mantlepiece, and stayed there until disturbed by +the entrance of Miss Davenal. + +"Neal's come home," announced Miss Davenal. + +"Is he?" apathetically answered Sara. + +"I saw him go by with his portmanteau. What are you down there for, +Sara, roasting your face? Have you no regard for your complexion?" + +"I am not roasting it, aunt. My face is quite in the shade." + +"But you are roasting it. What's the use of telling me that? Had I +allowed the fire to burn my face at your age, do you suppose I should +have retained any delicacy of akin? Get up from the fire." + +Sara rose wearily. She sat down in a chair opposite to the one her +aunt had taken, and let her hands fall listlessly in her lap. + +"Have any patients been here this afternoon?" + +"I think not, Aunt Bettina. I suppose it was too wet for them to come +out." + +"Have you been drawing?" + +"Not this gloomy day. I like a good light for it." + +"It strikes me you have become very idle lately, Miss Sara Davenal! Do +you think that time was bestowed upon us to be wasted?" + +A faint blush rose to Sara's cheek. In these, the early days of her +bitter sorrow, she feared she had been idle. What with the shock +brought upon her by that ominous secret, and the cruel pain caused by +the falsity of Oswald Cray, her tribulation had been well-nigh greater +than she could bear. + +"Ring the bell," said Miss Davenal. + +Sara rose from her chair and rang it. It was answered by Jessy. + +"Tell Neal I shall be glad to see him." + +Neal appeared in answer to the summons. His London journey had been +prolonged by the permission of the doctor, and he had but now +returned. In he came, just the same as usual, his white necktie +spotless, his black clothes without a crease. + +"So you are back, Neal?" said Miss Davenal. "I am very glad to see you. +And pray have you arranged all your business satisfactorily?--secured +your share of the money?" + +"Entirely so, thank you, ma'am," replied Neal, advancing nearer to his +mistress that he might be heard. "I am pleased to find all well at +home, ma'am." + +"You have been away longer than you intended to be, Neal." + +"Yes, ma'am. I wrote to my master stating why it was necessary that I +should, if possible, prolong my stay, and he kindly permitted it. I +saw Mr. Oswald Cray, ma'am, while I was in London," Neal added as a +gratuitous piece of information. + +"You did what?" asked Miss Davenal, while Sara turned and stood with +her back to them, looking at the fire. + +"I saw Mr. Oswald Cray, ma'am." + +"Oh, indeed. And where did you see him?" + +"I met him one night in London, ma'am. He was walking with a young +lady." + +"Saw him walking at night with a young lady?" repeated Miss Bettina, +in rather a snappish tone; for as a general rule she did not approve +of young ladies and gentlemen walking together, especially at night. + +"She seemed a very nice young lady, ma'am, young and pretty," +continued Neal, who was getting a little exasperated at the face at +Miss Sara Davenal being hidden from his view. "I believe it was Miss +Allister, the sister of a gentleman with whom Mr. Oswald Cray is very +intimate." + +"Well, I am glad you are back, Neal," concluded Miss Davenal. "Things +have gone all at sixes and sevens without you." + +Neal retired. And Sara, in her still attitude before the fire, +repeated the words over and over again to her beating heart. A lady +young and pretty! walking with him in the evening hours--the sister of +the friend with whom he was so intimate! She laid her hand upon her +bosom, if that might still the tumult within, in all the sickness of +incipient jealousy. Until that moment Sara Davenal had never known how +she had clung to hope in her heart of hearts. While saying to herself, +He is lost to me for ever, this undercurrent of hope had been ever +ready to breathe a whisper that the cloud might some time be cleared +up, that he might return. Now the scales were rudely torn from her +eyes, and reason suggested that his slighting treatment of her might +proceed from a different cause than any she had ever glanced at. + +"What was it Neal said, Sara? That the pretty lady walking with Oswald +Cray was somebody's sister?" + +Sara turned in her pain to answer her aunt. "Mr. Allister's sister, he +said." + +"Who's Mr. Allister?" + +"A sick gentleman who used to be at Bracknell and Street's. I remember +that night of the railway accident Mr. Oswald Cray was obliged to +return to town because he had promised to spend--to spend the Sunday +with him." + +An idea darting into her brain had caused her to hesitate. Had Oswald +Cray's anxiety to return to town been prompted by the wish to be with +the sister as well as the brother? Sara felt her brow turn moist and +cold. + +"Young and pretty!" repeated Miss Davenal. "Who knows but they may be +engaged? Ah! it's Caroline who should have had Oswald Cray." + +Meanwhile Dr. Davenal had been driven to the house of Mrs. Scott. It +was not very far from his own home, about two streets only. Time had +been, and not so far back, when Dr. Davenal would not have thought of +ordering his carriage for so short a distance, would have braved the +inclemencies of the weather, the drifting rain, the cutting wind, and +walked it. But the doctor had been growing ill both in body and mind; +since the night of that fatal revelation, whatever it may have been, +he seemed to have become in feelings like an old man, needing all the +care and help of one. As he had looked from his window that afternoon, +a sort of shudder at the outdoor weather came over him; a feeling as +if he could not and ought not to venture out in it. And he told Roger +to bring round the carriage. + +He stepped out of the carriage and entered Mrs. Scott's, leaving Roger +snugly ensconced under the shelter of the head and the horses steaming +in the rain. But when the doctor reached his patient's bed, he found +her so considerably and alarmingly worse that he could not yet think +of leaving her. She was a great and real sufferer; not as poor Lady +Oswald had been, an imaginary one; and in the last week or two her +symptoms had assumed a dangerous character. The doctor thought of +Roger and his horses, and went down. + +"I shall not be ready to come home this hour, Roger. Better go back +and put the horses up. You can come for me at five." So Roger, nothing +loth, turned his horses round and went home. And Dr. Davenal, with +another shudder, and a very perceptible one, hastened indoors from the +beating rain. + +"What's the matter with me this afternoon?" he asked, half angry that +any such sort of sensation should come over him. + +Is the body at times more sensitive to outward influences than it is +at others, rendering it susceptible to take any ill that may be +abroad? Is it more liable to cold, to fever, to other ailments? Or can +it be that the mind has so great an influence over the body that the +very fact of dreading these ills predisposes us to take them? If ever +Dr. Davenal sensibly shrank from an encounter with the outdoor +weather, it was on that afternoon. He could not remember so to have +shrunk from it in all his life. + +Mrs. Scott's room was hot. The fire was large, every breath of air +excluded, and two large gas-burners flamed away, adding to the heat. +As Dr. Davenal sat there he became first at ease in the genial warmth, +then hot, and subsequently as moist as though he were breathing the +atmosphere of a baker's oven. He had had many a battle with this same +Mrs. Scott over the heated rooms she loved to indulge in, but he had +not conquered yet. + +It was not much above half-past four when the doctor was beckoned out +of the room. He was wanted downstairs. There stood Julius Wild, and +Mr. Julius Wild was in as white a heat with running as Dr. Davenal was +with that pernicious atmosphere above. + +"I have been about everywhere, sir, trying to find you," he began out +of breath. "At last I bethought myself of asking your coachman at the +stables if he knew, and he said you were at Mrs. Scott's. You are +wanted in the accident-ward, sir, as quick as you can get there." + +"What has come in?" inquired Dr. Davenal. + +"A young man fell on his head from the very top of that scaffolding in +High Street, sir. It is a dreadful case, and the house-surgeon does +not think he can be saved, even with the operation. The top of the +head is crushed in. Mr. Berry and Dr. Ford and some more are there, +but they wish for you." Dr. Davenal did not delay a moment. In a case +of real necessity he threw aside all thought of precaution for +himself. If human skill could save the life of this poor young man, he +knew that his could, and he knew that perhaps his was the only hand in +Hallingham which could successfully carry through the critical and +delicate operation he suspected must be performed. + +He had no greatcoat with him, and he started off at once with Julius +Wild, heated as he was. The rain beat against him in a torrent, for it +poured now; the wind whirled itself in eddies about his person. No +umbrella could live in it; one which the doctor had borrowed from the +hall of Mrs. Scott was turned inside out ere he had taken many steps. + +"A rough night, sir," remarked the young embryo surgeon, as he kept by +his side. + +"It is that," said Dr. Davenal. + +Away they splashed through the muddy pools in the streets. It was +quite dark now, with the unusually gloomy evening, and the gas lamps +only served to mislead their eyesight in the haste they had to make. +There could be no waiting to pick the way. The Infirmary was at a +considerable distance from Mrs. Scott's, and ere they reached it the +cold had struck to one of them. The one was not Julius Wild. + +When they came in view of the Infirmary, Julius Wild ran forward to +give notice that the doctor was approaching. Two or three of the +medical men were in the great hall looking out for him; Mark Cray was +one of them. The news of the accident had travelled in the town, and +the surgeons attached to the Infirmary were collecting there. + +"We began to despair of you," cried Dr. Ford, "and there's no time to +be lost. I was just recommending Mr. Cray to be the one to officiate." +Dr. Davenal turned his eye with an eagle glance on Mark Cray ere the +words had well left Dr. Ford's lips. The look, the warning conveyed in +it, was involuntary. Had Mark actually acceded to the recommendation, +the look could scarcely have been sterner. Mark coloured under it, and +his thoughts went back to Lady Oswald. Never, in Dr. Davenal's +presence, must he attempt to try his skill again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. +THE LAST MEETING. + + +The night's work told on Dr. Davenal. The soaking rain, the chilling +wind, had struck inward the perspiration which Mrs. Scott's heated +room had induced. On the next day he was visibly ill. Sara noticed it, +and begged him not to go out. + +"Not go out, child? I must go out." + +"But you are not in a state for it. I am sure you are very ill." + +"I caught cold last night; that's what it is. It will go off in a day +or two." + +"Yes if you will lie by and nurse yourself. Not if you go out to make +it worse." + +"I have never lain by in all my life, Sara. A doctor has no time for +it. What would become of my patients?" + +He went out to his carriage, then waiting for him. The close carriage. +Bright as the day was--for the weather had changed--it was the close +carriage that had been ordered round by the doctor. + +"Is master ill, I wonder?" thought Roger, when he found it was only to +pay the daily round of near visits. + +As the doctor went out at the gate it happened that Oswald Cray was +passing. And Mr. Oswald Cray quite started when he saw Dr. Davenal, +the change in him was so great. + +It was impossible for either of them to pass the other, had they so +wished it, without being guilty of absolute rudeness, and they stopped +simultaneously. + +"You are ill, Dr. Davenal?" exclaimed Oswald, speaking impulsively. + +"Middling. I have got a cold hanging about me. We have had some bad +weather here." + +It cannot be denied that Dr. Davenal's tone and manner betrayed a +coldness never yet offered to Oswald Cray. Generous man though he was +by nature, as little prone to take offence as most people, he did +think that Oswald Cray's slighting conduct had been unjustifiable, and +he could not help showing his sense of it. + +They stood a moment in silence, Oswald marking the ravages illness or +something else had made on the doctor's face and form. His figure was +drooping now, his face was careworn; but the sickness looked to be of +mind more than of body. Unfortunately those miserable suspicions +instilled into Oswald Cray's brain arose now with redoubled force, and +a question suggested itself--could anything save remorse change a man +as he had changed, in the short space of time? + +"You are a stranger now, Mr. Oswald Cray. What has kept you from us?" + +"The last time I called you were all out," he answered, somewhat +evasively. + +"And you could not call again! As you please, of course," continued +the doctor, as Oswald's feet, took a somewhat repellant turn, and the +Oswald pride became rather too conspicuous. "I had wished to say a +word or two to you with regard to the will made by Lady Oswald; but +perhaps you do not care to hear it." + +"Anything that you, or I, or any one else can say, will not alter the +will, Dr. Davenal. And it does not in the least concern me." + +"But I think you are resenting it in your heart, for all that." + +Ah, what cross-purposes they were at! Oswald had not resented that; +and all his fiery pride rose up to boiling heat at being accused of +it. He had deemed that to make Dr. Davenal the inheritor was unjust to +the nephews of Lady Oswald, and he had felt for them; but he had not +_resented_ it, even at heart. He spoke the literal truth when he said +it was a matter that did not concern him. If the heavy cloud of +misapprehension between them could but have cleared itself away! + +"Will you be kind enough to understand me once for all, Dr. Davenal?" +he haughtily said. "Lady Oswald's money, either before her death or +after it, never was, nor could be, any concern of mine. I do not claim +a right to give so much as an opinion upon her acts in regard to it; +in fact I have no such right. Had she chosen to fling the money into +the sea, to benefit nobody, she might have done so, for any wish of +mine upon the point. I felt a passing sorrow for the Stephensons when +I saw their disappointment, but I did not permit myself to judge so +far as to say that Lady Oswald had done wrong. It was no affair of +mine," he emphatically added, "and I did not make it one." + +In spite of his impressive denial, Dr. Davenal did not believe him. +Whence, else, the haughty resentment that shone forth from every line +of his features? Whence, else, his studied absence from the house, his +altogether slighting conduct? Dr. Davenal made one more effort at +concession, at subduing his unfounded prejudices. + +"I can assure you I resented the will--if I may so say it. I resented +it for the Stephensons' sake, and felt myself a pitiful usurper. +Nothing would have induced me to accept that money, Mr. Oswald Cray; +and steps are being taken to refund it, every shilling, to the +Stephensons." + +"Ah," remarked Oswald, "I heard something of that. Had it been willed +to me I should have done the same." + +He held himself rigidly erect as he said it. There was no unbending of +the hard brow, there was no faint smile to break the haughty curve of +the lip. That poisonous hint dropped by Neal--that the money was about +to be restored through _fear_--was uncomfortably present to Oswald +then. Dr. Davenal saw that the resentment, whatever its cause, was +immovable, and he stepped into his carriage without shaking hands. + +"Good-morning to you, Mr. Oswald Cray." + +And then the reaction set in in Oswald Cray's mind, and he began to +blush for his discourtesy. The careworn face, the feeble form, haunted +him throughout the day, and he began to ask himself, what if all his +premises were wrong--if appearances and Neal's tale had been +deceitful--if he had done the doctor grievous ill in his heart I It +was but the reaction, I say, the repentance arising from his own +haughty discourtesy, which he felt had been more offensively palpable +than it need have been; but it clung to him for hours, haunting him +in all the business that he had to transact. + +It was somewhat strange that just when this new feeling was upon him +he should encounter Sara Davenal. They met in a lonely place--the +once-famed graveyard at the back of the Abbey. + +His business for the day over, Oswald Cray was going to pay a visit to +Mark and his wife. He was nearer the back of the Abbey than the front, +and, ignoring ceremony, intended to enter by the small grated door, a +relic of the old Abbey, which divided the graveyard from one of the +long Abbey passages. In passing the tombstone already mentioned, +Oswald turned his eyes down upon it: in the bright moonlight---for +never had the moon been brighter--he could almost trace the letters: +the next moment a noise in front attracted his attention--the closing +of the grated door. There stood Sara Davenal. She had stayed with Mrs. +Cray later than she intended, and was hastening home to dinner: in +leaving the Abbey by this back entrance a few minutes of the road were +saved. + +They met face to face. Sara's heart stood still, and her countenance +changed from white to red with emotion. And Oswald?--all the love that +he had been endeavouring to suppress returned in its deepest force. + +Ah, it is of no use! Try as we may, we cannot evade the laws of +nature; we cannot bend them to our own will. In spite of the previous +resolutions of weeks to forget her, Oswald Cray stood there knowing +that he loved her above everything on earth. + +"How are you, Sara?" + +He put out his hand to her in all calm self-possession; he spoke the +salutation with quiet equanimity; but as Sara looked in his face she +knew that his agitation was not in reality less than hers. She said a +few confused words in explanation of her being there at that hour, and +alone. On calling that afternoon she had found Caroline not well, and +had stayed with her to the last moment, as Mark was in the country. + +Then for a whole minute there was a silence. Perhaps neither could +speak. Sara put an end to it by turning towards the gate. + +"You will let me see you home, as you are alone?" + +"No, thank you," she answered. "There is nothing to hurt me. It is as +light as day." + +He did not press it. He seemed half-paralysed with indecision. Sara +wished him good night, and he responded to it, and once more shook +hands, all mechanically. + +But as she was going through the gate, she turned to speak, a question +having occurred to her. One moment longer, and he had arrested her +progress. + +"There are two or three books at our house belonging to you," she +said. "What is to be done with them? Shall they be sent to the Apple +Tree?" + +He caught her hands; he drew her from the gate into the bright +moonlight. He could not let her go without a word of explanation; the +cruelty of visiting upon her her father's sin was very present to him +then. + +"Are we to part thus for ever, Sara?" + +Surely that question was cruel! It was not she who had instituted the +parting; it was himself. She did not so much as know its cause. + +"May we not meet once in a way, as friends?" he continued. "I dare not +ask for more now." + +That he loved her still was all too evident. And Sara took courage to +gasp forth a question. In these moments of agitation the cold +conventionalities of the world are sometimes set aside. + +"What has been the matter? How have we offended you?" + +"_You_ have not offended me," he answered, his agitation almost +irrepressible. "I love you more than I ever did; this one moment of +meeting has proved it to me. I could lay down my life for you, Sara; I +could sacrifice all, save honour, for you. And you? You have not +changed?--you love me still?" + +"Yes," she gasped, unable to deny the truth, too miserable to care to +suppress it. + +"And yet we must part! we must go forth on our separate paths, +striving to forget. But when our lives shall end, Sara, we shall +neither of us have loved another as we love now." + +Her very heart seemed to shiver; the fiat was all too plainly +expressed. But she stood there quietly, waiting for more, her hand in +his. + +"I would have forfeited half my future life, I would have given all +its benefits to be able to call you mine. The blow upon me has been +very bitter." + +"What blow?" she murmured. + +"I cannot tell it you," he cried, after a struggle. "Not to you can I +speak of it." + +"But you must," she rejoined, the words breaking from her in her +agony. "You have said too much, or too little." + +"I have--Heaven help me! Can you not guess what it is that has caused +this?" + +"N--o," she faltered. But even as the word left her lips there rose up +before her the secret of that dreadful night--with the suspicion that +Oswald had in some unaccountable manner become cognisant of it. + +"I loved you as I believe man never yet loved, Sara; I looked +forward to years of happiness with you; I expected you to be my wife. +And--and--I cannot go on!" he broke off. "I cannot speak of this to +you." + +The tears were rolling down her pale face. "You must not leave me in +suspense, Oswald. It may be better for us both that you should speak +out freely." + +Yes, it might be better for them both; at any rate he felt that no +choice was left to him now. He drew nearer to her and lowered his +voice to a whisper. + +"Is there no--Heaven pardon me for speaking the word to you, +Sara!--disgraceful secret attaching now to--to your family? One which +would render it impossible for a man of honour to----" + +He would not say more; he had said enough; and he felt the words to +his heart's core. Whatever pain they may have brought to her, they +inflicted tenfold more upon him. With a low cry, she flung her hands +before her face. + +"Is it so, Sara?" + +"It is. How did you hear of it?" + +"The whisper came to me. Some people might--might--call it murder." + +"No, no!" she broke forth in her pain. "It surely was not so bad as +that. They kept the details from me, Oswald; but it could not have +been so bad as that." + +The words fell on his heart like an ice-bolt. Unconsciously to himself +he had been hoping that she might disprove the tale. For that purpose +he had whispered to her of the worst: but it seemed that she could not +deny it. It was quite enough, and he quitted the subject abruptly. + +"God bless you, my darling, for ever and for ever," he said, taking +her hands in his. "I do not respect or love you less; but I cannot--I +cannot--you know what I would say. It is a cruel fate upon me, as upon +you; and for the present, for both our sakes, it may be better that +our paths in life should lie apart. After awhile we may meet again, as +friends, and continue to be such throughout life." + +The tears had dried on her face, as it was lifted in the moonlight, +its expression one living agony. But there was no resentment in it; on +the contrary, she fully justified him. Her hands lingered in his with +a farewell pressure, and she strove to re-echo the blessing he had +given. + +They parted, each going a different way. Oswald Cray, in no mood for +the Abbey now, struck off towards the "Apple Tree;" Sara, drawing her +veil over her face, went on to her home. + +And so the dream was over. The dream which she had long been +unconsciously cherishing of what a meeting between them might bring +about, was over; and Sara Davenal had been rudely awakened to stern +reality. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. +A SPECIAL FAVOUR FOR NEAL. + + +The whole night subsequent to the meeting in the Abbey graveyard with +Oswald Cray, did Sara lie awake, striving to battle with her pain. It +was very sore to bear. She knew now the cause of his absenting +himself; and she knew that they were lost to each other for ever. It +is the worst pain that a woman can be called upon to endure; no +subsequent tribulation in life can equal its keen anguish. + +Ten times in the night she prayed for help--for strength to support, +and live, through her mind's trouble. She did not pray that it might +be taken from her; that was hopeless; she knew that weeks and months +must elapse before even the first brunt would lose its force; that +years must roll on before tranquillity could come. + +She did not blame Oswald Cray. She believed that that unhappy secret, +of the precise nature of which she was yet in ignorance, had become +known to him: how, she could not conjecture. Perhaps he knew it in all +its terrible details--and that these were terrible, she doubted less +now than ever. Were they not--ay, she fully believed it?--shortening +her father's life? What had been that awful word spoken by Oswald +Cray?--though she could not believe it to be so bad as that. But she +knew that it was something to bring disgrace and danger in its train; +and she fully justified Oswald Cray in the step he had taken. Still +she thought that he should have come to her in the first onset and +plainly said, "Such and such a thing has come to my knowledge, and +therefore we must part." He had not done this; he had left her for +weeks to the slow torture of suspense--and yet that very suspense was +more tolerable than the certainty now arrived at. Oh, the dull dead +pain that lay on her heart!--never for a long, long while to be lifted +from it. + +She strove to reason calmly with herself; she essayed to mark out what +her future course should be. She knew that there was nothing at +present but to bear her burden and hide it from the world's eye; but +she would do her duty all the same, Heaven helping her, in all the +relations of life; she would strive nobly to take her full part in +life's battle, whatever the inward struggle. + +There is no doubt that in that night of tribulation she looked at the +future in its very darkest aspect. It was well perhaps, that it should +be so, for the horizon might clear a little as she went on. That Mr. +Oswald Cray would in time marry, she had no right to doubt--a word or +two of his had almost seemed to hint at it: man forgets more easily +than woman. + +Towards morning she dropped into a heavy sleep, and had slept longer +than usual. This caused her to be late in dressing, and brought upon +her the reproof of punctual Miss Bettina. She looked at herself in the +glass ere she went down; at her pale face, her heavy eyelids; hoping, +trusting they would escape observation. What a happy thing it is that +others cannot read our faces as we read them! Miss Bettina was at the +head of the breakfast-table. She was suffering from a cold; but, ill +or well, she was sure to be at her post and Dr. Davenal stood at the +fire, his elbow on the mantelpiece, his forehead leaning on his hand. + +Sara went up to him, and he seemed to rouse himself from a reverie as +he kissed her. She noticed how ill he looked. + +"Papa, I am sure you are worse!" + +"I don't feel very well, child." + +"If you would but stay at home for a day or two and nurse yourself!" + +"Ah! I have not time. There's a great deal of sickness about, and my +patients must not be neglected." + +"Mark Cray can attend to them." + +"To the light cases he could. Not the serious ones; I wouldn't trust +them to him." + +"Not trust them to him?" echoed Sara. + +The surprised tone of the question aroused Dr. Davenal; he had spoken +out too heedlessly his real thoughts. "People dangerously ill have +naturally more confidence in me than in a young man," he said, by way +of doing away with the impression his avowal might make. + +They took their places at the breakfast-table, neither of then able to +eat; the doctor from sickness of body, for he was really ill, Sara +from sickness of mind. + +"Aunt Bettina, I tell papa he ought not to go out today." + +"Not going out today?" repeated Miss Bettina. "Why not? What's he +going to do, then?" + +"I say he ought not to go out. He is not well enough." + +Miss Bettina heard this time. She raised her eyes and gazed at the +doctor. It was impossible not to see that he did look ill. + +"What's the matter with you, Richard?" + +"It is only my cold," said the doctor. "It has settled here," touching +his chest. + +"That's just where mine is settling," grimly returned Aunt Bettina. + +"Papa's eating nothing," said Sara. + +"As if I could eat, with the skin off my throat and chest!" retorted +Miss Bettina, mistaking the words, as usual. "It seems that nobody's +eating this morning; you are not: we might as well not have had the +breakfast laid. Toast was made to be eaten, Miss Sara Davenal, not to +be wastefully crumbled into bits on the plate. I suppose _you_ have +not got a cold?" + +Sara began to pick up the crumbs and the pieces, and to swallow them +as she best could. Anything to escape particular observation. + +"I wonder how Mrs. Cray is this morning?" she presently observed, +having ransacked her brains for a subject to speak upon. Miss Bettina +heard all awry. + +"Oswald Cray! Why should you wonder how he is? Is he ill?" + +"I said Mrs. Cray, aunt;" and she would have given much to hide the +sharp bright blush that the other name brought to her face. "I told +you last evening Caroline was not well. I think you always mistake +what I say." + +"No, I don't mistake. But you have got into a habit of speaking most +indistinctly. My belief is, you did say Oswald Cray. He is in town," +fiercely added Miss Bettina, as if the fact strengthened her +proposition. + +"Yes, he is in town," assented Sara, for her aunt was staring so very +fixedly at her that she felt herself obliged to say something. "At +least he was in town yesterday." + +"Where did you see him, Sara?" asked the doctor. + +"I met him as I was leaving the Abbey last evening, papa," she +replied, not daring to look up as she said it. + +"I met him yesterday also," observed Dr. Davenal. "He was passing the +gate here just its I was about to step into the carriage. He is a +puzzle to me." + +Miss Bettina bent her ear. "What's a puzzle to you, doctor?" + +"Oswald Cray is. I had the very highest opinion of that man. I could +have answered for his being the soul of honour, one entirely above the +petty prejudices of the world in ordinary. But he has lost caste in my +eyes: has gone down nearly cent per cent." + +"It's his pride that's in fault," cried Miss Bettina. "He's the +proudest man living, old Sir Philip of Thorndyke excepted." + +"What has his pride to do with it?" returned the doctor. "I should say +rather his selfishness. He has chosen to take umbrage at Lady Oswald's +having left her money to me; and very foolish it was of her, poor +thing, to do it! But why he should visit his displeasure----" + +"He has not taken umbrage at that, papa," interrupted Sara. + +"Yes, he has," said Dr. Davenal. "I spoke to him yesterday of the +will, and he declined in the most abrupt manner to hear anything of +the matter. His tone in its haughty coldness was half-insulting. Why +he should have taken it up so cavalierly, I cannot conceive." + +Sara remained silent. She did not again dare to dissent, lest Dr. +Davenal should question her more closely. Better let it rest at that; +far better let it be thought that Mr. Oswald Cray had taken umbrage at +the disposal of the property, than that the real truth should be +known. + +"I suppose Oswald Cray felt hurt at not being left executor to the +will," sagely remarked Miss Bettina. "As to the money, I never will +believe that he, with his independent spirit, wanted that." + +"He wants his independent spirit shaken out of him, if it is to show +itself in this offensive manner," was the doctor's severe remark. +"What did he say to you, Sara?" + +"Say----?" she stammered, the remembrance of what had really been said +between them occurring startlingly to her. + +Dr. Davenal noted the hesitating words, he noted the crimsoned cheeks; +and a doubt which had once before risen up within him, rose again now. +But he let it pass in silence. + +"Does he intend to come here again, Sara?" asked Miss Bettina. + +"I don't know, aunt," was poor Sara's answer. "I suppose he will come +again some time." + +And in good truth she did suppose he would come again "some time," +when the pain of their separation should have worn away. + +Sara quitted her seat as she spoke, throwing down a fork with the +movement, and hastened to the window. + +"What's the matter?" exclaimed Miss Bettina. + +"It is the postman, aunt." + +"The postman!" echoed Miss Bettina, sharply, wondering what possessed +her niece that morning. "If it is the postman, you need not fly from +the breakfast-table in that way, upsetting the things. Do you call +that manners?" + +"O papa," cried Sara, turning round, unmindful of the reproof in her +flush of excitement, "I do think here are letters from Edward! Some +foreign mail must be in, for the man has an unusual number of letters +in his hand, and some of them look like foreign ones." + +She turned from the window, and stood gazing at the room door. But no +letters appeared. The postman went out again with his quick step, and +Sara, feeling grievously disappointed, returned slowly to her seat. + +"Is he gone?" presently asked the doctor. + +"O yes, papa. He is half-way down the street by this time. He came, I +suppose, for one of the servants." + +"He didn't ring." + +"No. He seemed to go straight to your consulting-room window. Perhaps +Neal is there, putting the room to rights." + +But Dr. Davenal did not rest so easily satisfied. He opened the door +and called down the passage in an imperative voice. + +"Neal! Are there no letters?" + +Neal came gliding into the room from his pantry, two letters in his +hand. + +"Why did you not bring them in at once?" somewhat sternly asked the +doctor as he took them, certain past suspicions regarding Neal and +such missives arising forcibly to his mind. + +"I was looking for my waiter, sir: I have mislaid it somewhere. +Oh, I left it here, I see." + +The silver waiter was on a side-table; not at all where it ought to +be; as if it had been put down heedlessly and forgotten. Neal caught +it up and retired. It might have been as he said--that the delay was +caused by looking for it, and by that only; and Dr. Davenal, more +inclined to be charitable than suspicious, thought no more of the +matter. + +In the keen disappointment which had come over him, he nearly lost +sight of other things. Neither of the two letters was from his son; +and he had so fully expected to hear from him by the present mail. + +Sara's heart was beating. "Are they not from Edward, papa?" + +The doctor shook his head as he laid the letters down. "They are both +from Dick, I expect His holiday letters." The two letters were +respectively addressed to Miss Davenal, and Miss Sara Davenal. The +address to Miss Davenal bore evident marks of care in the writing; it +was a clear, regular hand, though easily recognisable as a +schoolboy's. The address to Sara was a scrawl scarcely legible. Upon +opening the letter, hers, Sara found it beautifully written. Until she +came to its close she had no suspicion but that it was really written +to herself; she supposed it to be a sort of general holiday letter. + + +"My dear and respected Aunt and Relatives-- +As the joyful epoch of Christmas approaches, marking the close of +another half-year, we feel how valuable is that time which the best of +us are only inclined to regard too lightly. Yet I hope it will be +found that I have not wholly wasted the share of it bestowed on me, +but have used it to the best of my power and abilities. When you +witness the progress made in each branch of my various studies, to +which I have earnestly and assiduously devoted my days and hours, I +trust that you will find cause to deem I have been no thoughtless +pupil, but have done my best to merit your favour and the approbation +of my masters. In Greek especially--which Dr. Keen saw fit to promote +me to at Midsummer--I flatter myself you will be satisfied with my +advancement: it is a delightful study. + +"Deeply sensible of the inestimable value of the talents entrusted to +me, anxious that not one of them should lie fallow through fault of +mine, it has been my constant and earnest endeavour to improve them, +so that they may be turned to profitable use in the after-business of +life. By industry, by perseverance, and by unflagging attention I have +striven to progress, and I may say that it is with regret I part with +my beloved studies, even for a temporary period. + +"I am desired to present Dr. Keen's compliments to you and my uncle, +and to convey to you the intelligence that our winter recess will +commence on the 16th of this month, on which day I and Leopold shall +hope to return to Hallingham, and to meet you in good health. Leopold +regrets sensibly that he will not be able this year to write you his +vacation letter: it is a great disappointment to him. He has had a +fester on the thumb of his right hand; it is getting better, but still +painful. He begs to offer his affectionate duty to yourself, my uncle, +Sara, and Mrs. Cray. And trusting you will accept the same from me, + + "I am, my dear Aunt, + + "Your most sincere and respectful Nephew, + + "Richard John Davenal. + +"Miss Davenal." + + +A smile stole across Sara's features at the wording of the letter, so +unlike Dick, and she turned over the envelope. + +"Yes, 'Miss Sara Davenal!' Dick has made a mistake in the address. It +is written to you, Aunt Bettina?" + +But Miss Bettina's eyes were glued to her own letter, which she hell +open before her. Her lips had drawn themselves in ominously. + +"Is it the holiday letter, Sara?" asked the doctor. + +"Yes, papa: Richard's. But it is not written to me." + +Dr. Davenal took up the letter. Its writing, almost as beautiful as +copper-plate, was as easily read as a book: Master Richard must have +taken the greatest pains with it. Miss Davenal's was not so easily +read, for it seemed to have been dashed off with a skewer. She threw +it on the table in considerable temper when she came to its end, and +laid her hand solemnly upon it. + +"Dr. Davenal, if you do not return this letter instantly to Dr. Keen, +I shall. It is a disgrace to have come out of any respectable school." + +"Who is it from?" questioned the doctor in surprise. + +"Who is it from?--from that wicked nephew of yours--Dick. And _you_ to +encourage him!" she added, directing her severe glance at Sara. "It is +meant, I suppose, for you." In point of fact, Master Dick Davenal had +misdirected his letters, sending his holiday letter to Sara, and one +intended exclusively for Sara's eyes to his aunt. Dr. Davenal, in some +curiosity, drew towards him the offending letter. + + +"Dear Old Girl, + +"We come home the end of next week hurray! old Keen was for keeping us +till the week after and shouldn't we have turned rusty but its all +fixed now, the 16th is the joyful day and on the 15th we mean to have +a bonfire out of bounds and shouldnt we like to burn up all our books +in it you cant think how sick we are of them. Jopper says hed give all +Ime sure I would, I hate learning and that's the truth and I havent +tried to get on a bit for I know its of no use trying, Greak's horrid, +and our greak master is an awful stick and keeps us to it till we feel +fit to bufett him its the most hateful bothering languidge you can +imagine and I shall never master a line of it and if it werent for +cribs I should get a caneing everyday, latin was bad enougff, but +greak caps it. We all got into a row which I'll tell you about when I +come home and we had our Wensday and saturday holidays stoped for +three weeks, it was all threw the writing master a shokking sneek who +comes four days a week and found out something and took and told Keen +but we have served him out, we have had some good games this half +taking things together and if we could berry our books and never do +another lesson Keens house wouldnt be so bad, Leo and some more of us +were trying to wrench open farmer Clupps stable to get at his poney +when he ran a rusty nale into his thumb, old clupp was off to a cattle +fair by rail and we knew hed be none the wiser if we exercised the +poney up and down the common, and a jolly time of it I can tell you we +had only we couldnt find the sadle, well leos thum got bad and he +hasnt been abel to write for ever so long and hes uncomon glad of it +now for it saves him his holiday letter, had to write mine five times +over before it did and I nearly flung it in the fire before Keens +face, I never was so sick of anything in my life, its going to aunt +Bett this time Keen said it went to uncle Richard at midsummer, good +buy till next week darling Sara love to Carry and mind you get a jolly +lot of mince pies ready for us. + +"Dick Davenal. + +"p. s. hows old Betts deafness, its so cold we hope all the ponds will +be froze to ice tomorrow." + + +Dr. Davenal burst into a fit of laughter. The contrast between the +genuine letter of the boy and the formal one dictated by the master +was so rich. Miss Davenal's brow wore its heaviest frown: the letter +was bad enough altogether, but the insult to herself, the "old Bett," +could not be forgiven. + +"I'll have this letter sent back, Dr. Davenal." + +"Tush, Bettina! Send it back, indeed! We were schoolboys and +schoolgirls ourselves once. Why, what's this?--here's the postman +coming in again! He must have omitted to leave all the letters." It +was even so. The postman by inadvertence had carried away a letter +addressed to the house, and had now come back with it. + +But that mistake was a great piece of good luck for Neal; and in truth +its occurring on this morning was a singular coincidence. You will +agree with me in saying that it was quite a different sort of luck +from any deserved by Neal. Poor Dick Davenal's "sneek" of a +writing-master could not stand for honours beside the real sneak, +Neal. + +Neal had not been at Dr. Davenal's window when the postman came in the +first time, as Sara had surmised; Neal was standing in his favourite +corner outside, amid the shrubs, having a mind to give himself an +airing. It was to this corner the postman had gone, and he delivered +three letters into his hands. Neal carried them to his pantry and +proceeded to examine the outside with his usual curiosity. Two of them +were those he subsequently carried into the breakfast-room; on the +third he saw the foreign postmark, and recognised the handwriting of +Captain Davenal. And, as Neal turned this about in his hand, he became +aware of a curious fact--that it was open. The envelope was not +fastened down. The captain's seal was upon it in wax, but it did not +serve to fasten it. Whether that young officer, who was given to +carelessness, had sealed it in this insecure manner, or whether it had +come open in the transit, was of no consequence: it was certainly not +closed now. + +The temptation proved too strong for Mr. Neal. It happened that he had +a motive, a particular motive, apart from his ordinary curiosity, for +wishing to see the contents of this letter. He had chanced to overhear +a few words spoken between the doctor and his daughter some days +previously--words which Neal could, as he expressed himself, make +neither top nor tail of; but they referred to Captain Davenal, and +created the strongest possible wish in Neal's mind to take a peep at +the first letter that should arrive from the gallant officer. Neal had +not seen his way to do this at all clear; but it appeared now that +fortune had graciously dropped the means into his hands. And the +temptation was too strong to be resisted. + +Hastily reasoning within himself (the best of us are too prone to +reason on our own side of the question, ignoring the other) that in +all probability the breakfast-room had not seen or heard the postman, +as the man had kept on _his_ side the garden, and had not rung the +door-bell, Neal risked it, and carefully drew the letter from the +envelope. + +A small thin note, addressed to Miss Sara Davenal, dropped out of it. +Neal was too busy to pick it up; his eyes were feasting on the opening +words of Captain Davenal's letter to his father. + +"Neal, are there no letters?" + +The interrupting voice was the doctor's: and Neal, in an awful +fluster, popped the open letter and the thin one under a dish-cover. +There was no help for it; he might not delay; he dared not take the +letter in open. So he carried in the other two in his hand, having +looked in vain for his customary waiter. + +It passed off well enough. Neal returned to the pantry, and finished +the perusal of the captain's letter. Then he refolded it, placed the +note, which he had _not_ opened, inside as before, and amended the +fastening with a modicum of sealing-wax, dropped artistically +underneath the old seal. + +He was at his wit's end how to convey the letter to the doctor, so +that no suspicion might rest upon himself. Suppress it he dare not, +for the postman could have testified to its delivery when inquiries +were made. He was coming to the conclusion that the best way would be +to put it amidst the shrubs, as if he or the postman had dropped it, +and let somebody find it and convey it to Dr. Davenal, when the +postman's knock at the hall door aroused him. + +"I don't know how I came to overlook this," said the man, handing in a +letter. "It had got slipped among the others somehow, and I didn't +find it till I was ever so far down the street." If ever Neal believed +in the descent of special favours from the clouds, he believed in it +then. The letter brought back by the postman was directed to Watton. +Neal carried it to his panty, deposited the other upon his silver +waiter, and took it to the breakfast-room. + +"How's this?" cried the doctor. + +"The letter-man carried it away with him, sir, by some mistake, he +says," answered Neal with a steady tongue and unflinching eye. + +"Stupid fellow!" cried the doctor. But he spoke in a good-natured +tone. None, save he, knew how welcome a sight was the handwriting of +his son. + +And when Neal carried down the breakfast-things he coolly told Watton +there was a letter for her lying in his pantry, which had come by the +morning post. + +"You might have brought it down," was Watton's answer. + +"So I might," civilly remarked Neal. "I laid it there and forgot it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. +THE DOCTOR'S BIRTHDAY. + + +The dead of the winter passed. That is, Christmas was turned, and +January had come in, and was drawing to a close. + +Dr. Davenal's state of health was beginning to attract attention. It +cannot be said that absolute fears were excited, but people said to +each other and to him that he ought to take more care. Especial care +of himself he certainly did not take, and he seemed to take cold upon +cold. It must not be thought that Dr. Davenal was recklessly +neglectful, supinely careless. It was not that at all. But he was one +of the many who seemed to have an assured trust in their own +constitution; almost believing their state of good health immutable. +Other folks are liable to ailments, but _they_ have no fear of +themselves. This is sometimes notably the case with those who have +never experienced illness, who have passed an active life with neither +an ache nor a pain. + +As had Dr. Davenal. Of a naturally good constitution, temperate in his +habits, taking a good deal of exercise one way or another, his mind +always occupied, he did not know what it was to have a day's illness. +The great blow which had fallen upon him in the death of his son told +upon his mind more than upon his body. If it had bent his shoulders +and left lines of care upon his face, it had not made him ill. It was +reserved for the later calamity to do that--that terrible secret whose +particulars none save the doctor knew. _That_ had nearly prostrated +him--it had re-acted on the body; and when the cold fastened on him +the day he had to hasten from Mrs. Scott's hot room to the Infirmary, +it laid hold of him for ever. + +He could not shake it off. Miss Davenal told him somewhat crossly that +he kept catching cold upon cold; but the doctor himself knew that it +was that first cold hanging about him. He apprehended no real danger: +he did not pay much attention to it. Had he possessed a mind at rest, +he might have thought more of the body's ailments, but with that great +burden of despair--and, in truth, it was little else--weighing him +down, what in comparison was any sickness of body? As to lying by, he +never so much as gave it a thought. So long as he could go about, he +would go about. He thought of others before himself; he was one who +strove hard to do his duty in the sight of God; and he would have +deemed it little else than a sin selfishly to stop indoors to nurse +himself, when there might be fellow-creatures dying for the want of +his aid. It was very easy to say other doctors might attend for him; +we all know how valuable in illness is the presence of the physician +we _trust_; and none in Hallingham was trusted as was Dr. Davenal. + +And so, with his aching mind and his aching body, he went about +his work. It is just possible that a fortnight or so's rest might +have saved him but he did not take it. He went about his work as +usual--nay, with more than his wonted activity, for it was a season of +much sickness at Hallingham, as it was that winter in many other +places. He bore on, never flagging; but he grew weaker day by day, and +everybody remarked how poorly the doctor was looking. No fears for his +state were aroused indoors. Sara attributed all she saw amiss in him +to the burden of that great secret, of which she had had only partial +cognisance; and Miss Davenal felt cross with him. + +For Bettina Davenal suspected neither illness of body nor illness of +mind. How should she connect the latter with the prosperous physician? +She knew that he had been grieved at the going abroad of his son +Edward, a grief in which she by no means joined, deeming that a little +roughing it out in the world would be found of wholesome benefit to +the indulged son and brave captain; and she rather despised the doctor +for regretting him. He was silent, and thin, and worn; he had no +appetite; his spirits seemed gone; she saw all this, but never +supposed it was caused by anything but the departure of his son. + +His not eating was made the worst grievance of by Miss Bettina. Once +before, in an unusual season of sickness, the doctor had--not, +perhaps, lost his appetite, but allowed himself no time for his meals. +Miss Bettina believed that this was a similar case; that his patients +were absorbing his appetite and his energies; and she gave him a good +sound lecturing, as she might have given to Dick. Get what she would +for the table, plain food or dainties, it seemed all one to the +doctor: he would taste, perhaps, to please her, but he could not eat. + +"I can't help it," he said to her one day. "I suppose I am worse than +you think." + +For the truth, or rather a suspicion of it, had at length dawned on +Dr. Davenal--that he was more seriously ill than he had allowed +himself to imagine. Unfavourable symptoms connected with his chest and +lungs had forced themselves upon his notice on that very morning, and +he asked himself what they meant, and what they boded. Had he +neglected himself too long? + +It was the 24th of January, a notable day in the doctor's household, +for it was his birthday, and was always kept amongst themselves. Dick +and Leo made the day a plea for the extension of their holidays. The +school generally reopened about a week earlier, but of course, as +they told their uncle, they could not go back with his birthday so +near: they must stay to wish him many happy returns of it. Miss +Davenal saw no reason in the plea, and was severe when the doctor +allowed it--as he always did; _she_ would never keep boys at home a +single hour after the school opened. But with Uncle Richard to back +them, Dick and Leo did not care for Aunt Bettina. + +Yes, it was on this morning that Dr. Davenal awoke to the serious +state of his own health. If what he suspected was true, he feared he +should not be long in this world. + +He said nothing. He went out as usual in his close carriage, which he +had latterly used, and forgot not a single call. But he said to +himself that perhaps in a few days, when he should have brought +through, if Heaven willed, one or two patients who were lying in +extreme danger, he might make arrangements for stopping at home and +nursing himself. + +On this same day the doctor again saw Oswald Cray. He had occasion to +give some directions to Mark, missed seeing him at the Infirmary, and +told Roger to drive to the Abbey. Upon entering, he found not Mark but +Oswald. Oswald, it appeared, had just called, and was waiting for Mrs. +Cray to come down. Mark was out. + +Dr. Davenal cherished no resentment. He deemed that Oswald Cray had +behaved to him badly, but he had never been of a retaliating spirit, +and least of all was he inclined to it now. + +The doctor pressed Oswald Cray's hand cordially as he shook it. The +thought flashed over him that he would make one more effort towards a +reconciliation. A few moments given to commonplace salutations, and +then he spoke. + +"This is my birthday, Mr. Oswald Cray. Mark and Caroline are coming to +dine with us: will you join them?" + +"You are very kind. But I must go up to London by the seven train." + +Not a word of "wishing" he could come, or regret that he could not. +The doctor noticed that; he noticed also that his tone was more polite +than warm. But he did not yet give him up. + +"It may be the last birthday I shall see. We shall be glad to welcome +you." + +"I hope you will see many yet; but I am obliged to return to town. +Thank you all the same." + +Coldly courteous still! Dr. Davenal, who would not wait, as Mark was +out, again offered his hand in parting. + +"Some estrangement has come between us which I do not understand, Mr. +Oswald Cray. Remember what I say, should this be the last time we +speak together, that it is you who have to answer for it, not I." + +"One word, Dr. Davenal," for the doctor was turning away to regain his +carriage. "Believe at least this much, that none can regret the +estrangement more than I regret it." + +"Is it explainable?" + +"Not by me," replied Oswald, somewhat of his old hauteur coming upon +him. He honestly believed in his heart that Dr. Davenal, in saying +these few words, was but acting a part. + +"Fare you well," said the doctor as he went out. + +"Farewell," repeated Oswald. And they were the last words ever spoken +between them. + +It was a social family dinner that evening at Dr. Davenal's, and for +some of its partakers a right merry one. Mark Cray and his wife were +merry as heart could wish, the two boys boisterously so, Miss Davenal +gracious. Sara was quiet, the doctor was ill, and a gentleman whom the +doctor had invited after Oswald Cray declined, was grieving over the +alteration so conspicuously visible in Dr. Davenal. + +This was the Rev. John Stephenson. He was at Hallingham on business, +had called that afternoon on Dr. Davenal, and the doctor had pressed +him to stay dinner. + +When the cloth was removed, and Mr. Stephenson had said grace, and +Dick and Leo were up to their eyes in nuts and oranges, Mark Cray +stood in his place and made a natty little speech. Mark was fond of +making speeches they were a great deal more to his taste than surgical +operations. His present effort lasted five minutes, and wound up with +wishing the doctor many happy returns of the day. + +"Hurrah!" shouted Dick. "Uncle Richard, I hope you'll have a hundred +birthdays yet!" + +"And plenty of good things for you to eat as they come round, eh, +Dick?" rejoined the doctor with a smile. + +"Oh, of course," cried Dick, his eyes sparkling. "It always does come +in the Christmas holidays, you know." + +The doctor slightly rose from his chair, leaning with both hands on +the table. His manner was subdued, his voice inexpressibly gentle and +loving. + +"My dear friends, I thank you for your kindness; I thank you from my +very heart. I am not well, and you must accept these few words in +answer to Mark's more elaborate speech. It may be the last time I +shall be here to receive your good wishes or to thank you for +them. May God bless you!"--and he raised his hands slowly and +solemnly--"May God bless and love you all when I shall be gone!" + +The words took them utterly by surprise. Sara bent her head, and +pressed her hands upon her bosom as if to press down the sudden sobs +that seemed as if they would choke her; Dick and Leo stared; Miss +Bettina complacently nodded her acknowledgments, she knew not why, for +she had failed to hear; and Caroline looked up in wonder. Mark Cray +was the first to speak. + +"Do you feel ill, sir?" + +"Not particularly; not much more so than I have felt lately. I don't +think I am very well, Mark." + +"You are overworked, sir. You must take some rest" + +"Rest may be nearer for me than we think, Mark." + +"O papa, don't!" wailed Sara. "Don't speak so, unless you would break +my heart!" + +Her emotion had become uncontrollable, and the anguish had spoken out. +Never until that moment had the prospect of losing her father been +brought palpably before Sara, and it was more than she well knew how +to bear. In spite of her natural reticence of feeling, of the presence +of a stranger, she quite shook with her hysterical sobs. + +Miss Davenal was frightened, and somewhat indignant: she bent her head +forward. "What on earth's the matter with Sara?" + +"Hush, Aunt Bettina," called out Mrs. Cray. "Don't scold her. Uncle +Richard has been talking gloomily. He says he is ill." + +"Ill! of course he is ill," retorted Miss Bettina, who had contrived +to hear. "He won't eat. He is out and about with his patients from +morning till night, and then comes in too tired to eat anything. He +has not swallowed a couple of ounces of meat all the last week. What +can he expect but to be ill? But there's no cause for Sara to burst +into a violent fit of crying over it. Will you be so kind as to excuse +it, sir?" she added, in her stately courtesy, to the clergyman who was +sitting at her right hand. + +He bowed. A man who has known long-continued adversity can feel for +sorrow, and his heart was aching for the grief of the child, and for +the serious change he saw in the father, his benefactor. Mark turned +to Miss Davenal. + +"It is just what I say, Miss Bettina, that the doctor is overworked. +He wants a week or two's rest." + +"And what are you good for if you can't contrive that he should have +it?" was her answer. "I think you might see his patients for him." + +"So I could," answered Mark. "Only he won't let me." + +Sara's emotion was subsiding: she sat very still now, her head a +little bent, as if ashamed of having betrayed it; the tears dried upon +her cheeks, but an uncontrollable sob broke from her now and then. Dr. +Davenal had taken her hand under the table, for she sat next to him, +and was holding it in his. + +"You foolish child!" he fondly whispered. + +"Papa, if--if anything were to happen to you--if you were to go and +leave me here alone, I should die," was the answer, uttered +passionately. + +"Hush, hush! My darling, you and I are alike in the hands of a loving +God." + +She laid her fingers again upon her bosom. How violently it was +beating, how difficult it was to still its throbs of pain, she alone +knew. + +"I met that gentleman this afternoon, the connection of Lady Oswald's +whom I saw for the first time the day of the funeral," spoke up the +clergyman, breaking the silence which had fallen upon the room. "Mr. +Oswald Cray." + +"I met him, too," said the doctor. "It was at your house, Mark. I +asked him to come here today, but he declined." + +"He is gone back to town, I think," said Mark. + +"He said he was going." + +"Did you ask him to dine here, Uncle Richard?" cried Leo. + +"I did, my boy." + +"And wouldn't he!" rejoined Mark. + +"No, he wouldn't. And, mind, I think he _wouldn't_; although Ac +declined upon the plea of having to get back to town." + +"My! what a stupid duff he was!" exclaimed Richard. "Did he know there +was going to be a turkey and plum-pudding?" + +"I didn't tell him that, Dick. My impression is, that he never means +to enter our house again," the doctor added in a low tone to his +daughter. + +"But why?" exclaimed Caroline, who sat on the other side the doctor, +and caught the words. "There must be something extraordinary at the +bottom of all this." + +"Never mind going into it now, Carine," whispered the doctor. "His +grievance is connected with Lady Oswald's will, but we need not say so +before Mr. Stephenson." + +Sara looked up hastily, impulsive words rising to her lips; but she +recollected herself, and bent her head again in silence. Not even to +her father dared she to say that his conclusion was a mistaken one. + +"Uncle Richard, now that I look at you, it does appear to me that you +are changed for the worse," remarked Mrs. Cray. "You must nurse +yourself, as Mark says. Hallingham would not understand your being +ill, you know." + +"True," laughed the doctor. + +Caroline Cray, seeing her uncle daily, or nearly so, had not perceived +the great change which had been gradually going on in him. But to Mr. +Stephenson, who had not met him since the time of Lady Oswald's death, +it was all too palpable; as it had been that day to Oswald Cray. + +"We must not forget the captain today, doctor," spoke up Mark. "Have +you heard from him again?" + +"O yes." + +"How does he like his Maltese quarters?" + +"I am not sure that he has said. It is not of much consequence whether +he liked them or not. The regiment was ordered on to India." + +"To India!" + +"Yes." It was impossible not to note the sad tone in which the +monosyllable was spoken. Dr. Davenal had begun to know that he and his +son should never again meet on earth: the son whom he so loved! + +Somehow, what with one thing and another, that birthday evening was a +sadder one than they had been accustomed to spend. Mark Cray, as he +walked home with his wife afterwards, remarked that it was "slow." But +nobody dreamt of anything like fear for the doctor, save his daughter +and the Reverend Mr. Stephenson. + +"I can never be sufficiently grateful to you, sir," murmured the +clergyman, as he was leaving. "Neither can my brother. You have done +for us what I believe no other man living would have done. May Heaven +reward you, and restore you to health and strength!" + +"I did but my duty," answered the doctor. "The money belonged to you, +not to me. I am only glad there were no vexatious legal obstacles +brought up to obstruct the transfer. I shall always be glad to see +you, remember, when you come to Hallingham." + +Mr. Stephenson thanked him. But as he went out, the impression was +strong upon his mind that the doctor himself would not long be in +Hallingham. + +And Sara? What must it have been for her! Her mind was one chaos of +tumultuous emotion. She seemed to have accepted the fear as a +certainty, to have been obliged to accept it. Oh, what would save +him?--could not the whole faculty restore _his_ precious life? She +passed another night of anguish, like unto the one she had passed +nearly two months before, after parting with Oswald Cray in the Abbey +graveyard--like it, but more apprehensively painful; and she wondered +how she got through it. + +With the morning, things did not wear so intensely gloomy an aspect. +The broad daylight, the avocations and bustle of daily life, are an +antidote to gloom, and the worst prospect loses some of its darkness +then. Sara tried to reason with herself that he could not have become +so ill on a sudden as to be past recovery, she tried to say that it +was foolish even to think it. + +But her mind could not be at rest, her state of suspense was +intolerable, and before entering the breakfast-room she knocked at her +father's study-door, and entered. Dr. Davenal was closing the Bible. + +"What is it, my dear?" + +"O papa"--and the words came forth with a burst of pent-up +anguish--"I cannot live in this suspense. What did you mean last +night? What is it that is the matter with you?" + +"I scarcely know, Sara. Only that I feel ill." + +"But--you--cannot--be going to die?" + +"Hush, my child! You must not agitate yourself in this way. Die? Well, +no, I hope not," he added, quite in a joking manner. "I feel ten per +cent better this morning than I did yesterday." + +"Do you!" she eagerly cried. "But--what you said last night?----" + +"Last night I felt gloomy--oppressed. Serious thoughts do intrude +themselves sometimes on one's birthday. And I was really ill +yesterday. I feel quite a different man today." + +Her fears were growing wonderfully calmer. "You are sure, papa?" + +"Sure of what? That I am better?--I am sure I feel so. I shall be all +right, child, I hope." + +"Won't you have advice, papa?" she imploringly said. + +"Advice? That's a compliment to myself, young lady. Hallingham would +tell you that there's no advice better than Dr. Davenal's own." + +"But, papa--I mean different advice. I thought of the clever London +doctors. You must have them down to see you." + +"Some of the clever London doctors would be glad of the countryman +Richard Davenal's advice. Seriously speaking, my dear, though I say it +in all modesty, I don't believe there's a man in Europe more skilful +than myself." + +"But they might suggest remedies that you would not think of. O papa! +if there's a necessity, do summon them." + +"Be assured of one thing, Sara, and set your mind at rest. Should the +necessity arise, I will not fail to seek any one or anything that I +think may help me. My life has not of late been a happy one, but I am +not quite tired of it; I wish I may live long, not only for your sake, +but for--for other interests. There's a double necessity for it now." + +"And you will not go out today, papa?" + +"Today I must. I have not made arrangements to the contrary. But I do +mean to give myself a rest, perhaps beginning with tomorrow. I feel a +great deal better today--quite another man." + +How the words lightened her heart! Dr. Davenal really did feel much +better, and the saddened spirit, the almost ominous feeling, which had +clung to him the night before, had vanished. But he spoke more lightly +of his illness than he would have done had he not seen how it was +affecting her. + +Dick came drumming at the door, and then pushed it open with a bang. + +"Breakfast's waiting, Uncle Richard. And Aunt Bett---- Why! are you +there?" broke off the young gentleman as his eyes fell upon Sara. "I'm +afraid you'll catch it. Aunt Bett thinks you are not down, and it's +ten minutes past eight." + +"Are you ready for school, Dick?" asked his uncle. "Elated at the +prospect of returning?" + +Dick pulled a long face. The two boys were going back that day. A sore +trial to Dick, who it must be confessed, had been born with an innate +antipathy to books. + +"You'll have us home at Easter, Uncle Richard?" he pleaded in a +piteous tone. + +"Not if I know it, Dick. Holidays twice a-year were thought quite +enough in my schooldays, and I see no reason for their not being +thought enough now." + +"Half the boys go home at Easter--and stop a fortnight: bemoaned Dick. + +"Very likely. If half the boys have friends who prefer play to work +for them, I'm only glad the other half set a better example. Dicky, +boy, you'll enjoy your Midsummer holidays all the more keenly for +having none at Easter." + +The doctor caught hold of the boy and wound his arm affectionately +round him as they proceeded across the hall to the breakfast-room. +Miss Davenal greeted Sara with one of her severest aspects, but before +she could begin her lecture, Mark Cray had burst in upon them. + +"Have you heard the news?" he exclaimed, in a state of excitement +never yet witnessed in easy Mark Cray. "Doctor, have you had letters +yet?" + +"What news? What letters?" asked the doctor. + +"Caroline has got her money." + +"Caroline got her money?" repeated Dr. Davenal, understanding no +better than the rest did. + +"The Chancery case is decided," explained Mark. "Judgment was given +yesterday, and it is in their favour. She'll get the money directly +now." + +"How do you know this, Mark?" + +"It is in the evening papers--reported in full. I call for my letters +sometimes if I am passing the post-office, and I did so this morning +and got this paper. White, the lawyer, sent it, I expect, and we shall +no doubt hear by this evening's post." + +"Well, Mark, I am very glad. Justice lay on Caroline's side; therefore +it is right that she should have it. You must settle it upon her as +soon as you touch the money." + +"Oh, of course," said Mark. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. +BAD NEWS FOR HALLINGHAM. + + +"I say, Neal, what sort of a place is St. Paul's Churchyard?" + +The questioner was Watton. She sat in the servants' room near the +window, against which the rain was pattering, some household sewing in +her hand. Neal, who had entered to get a glass he wanted was rather +taken with surprise, but he was not one to show it in his manner. + +"Did you never see it?" he asked. + +"I saw it in a picture once. I couldn't see it elseways; I've never +been to London?" + +"It is a large space of land with houses round it and the cathedral in +the middle," explained Neal, who seemed always ready to oblige his +fellow-servants, especially Watton. "It's a thoroughfare, you know; +the road from Ludgate Hill to Cheapside winds round on each side the +cathedral, between it and the houses." + +"Is it very noisy?" + +"Pretty well for that. But the London people don't seem to care for +noise. I expect they are so used to it that they don't hear it." + +"The houses round St. Paul's are warehouses, aren't they?" + +"Warehouses and shops. The shops are mostly on one side and the +warehouses on the other." + +"Do you know a place called Cannon Street?" + +"I should think I do! It leads down from St. Paul's to King William +Street. Why do you ask?" + +"Well," said Watton slowly, as if she mere deliberating something in +her mind, "I am not sure but I am going to live there." + +"To live in St. Paul's Churchyard?" repeated Neal. + +"I have had a place offered me there, and it seems to me to be a very +eligible one," said Watton. "It's to go as housekeeper in a house of +business; some large wholesale place, by what I can understand. I +should have two or three servants under me, and twenty-five pounds +a-year. It seems good, doesn't it?" + +"Capital," assented Neal. "Is it in St. Paul's Churchyard?" + +"It's either in St. Paul's Churchyard or Cannon Street. She isn't +quite sure which, she says. Anyway, it's close to St. Paul's." + +"Who's 'she'?" questioned Neal. + +"My sister. Her husband is in this establishment, a traveller, or +something of that. He has got on well: he was only day assistant in a +shop when she married him, fifteen years ago, and now he gets two or +three hundred a year. When Miss Bettina told me I should have to +leave, I wrote to my sister and asked her to look out for me, and she +has sent me word of this." + +"But can she get the place for you?" inquired Neal, who was prompt at +weighing probabilities and improbabilities in his mind. + +"It is in this way. The present housekeeper has been there a good +while, and is much respected by the masters, and they have asked her +to look out for somebody to take her place. My sister's intimate with +her, and has spoken to her about me." + +"Why is she going to leave, herself?" questioned Neal, liking to come +to the bottom of everything. + +Watton laughed. "She is going to begin life on her own score: she's +about to be married. I think it's rather venturesome those middle-aged +persons marrying: I wouldn't, I know." + +"Wait until you are asked," returned Neal, not over gallantly. + +"I have been asked more than once in my life," said Watton. "But I +didn't see my way clear. It's all a venture. A good many risk it, and +a few don't. I'd rather be one of the few. My goodness! how it rains!" + +"When do you leave here?" + +"When I get a comfortable place. Miss Bettina said I was not to hurry. +It isn't as if I were leaving for any fault, or to make room for +another. _She_ doesn't like my leaving at all, you know." + +Neal nodded. "I heard her grumbling to the doctor, like anything, +about it. She talks loud, and one can't shut one's ears at will." + +"She need not grumble to the doctor. It is not his fault. He spoke to +me himself, saying how sorry he was to part with me, but he could not +help it. 'He had had a severe loss of money,' he said, which rendered +it necessary that he should alter the rate of his expenditure. I +wonder," added Watton, musingly, "how he came to lose it?" + +Neal coughed. "Perhaps some bank broke." + +"Perhaps it did," answered Watton. "They are ticklish things, those +banks. I say, Neal, there's the doctor's bell." + +Neal heard the bell for himself, and quitted the room to answer it. +Watton got up, put down her work, shook a few threads from her gown, +opened a drawer and took out a letter. + +She was going upstairs to Miss Bettina to show her the letter she had +received, and to ask her advice upon the situation mentioned in it. +She felt very much inclined to try for it; only she felt a shrinking +doubt of London. Many persons do who have lived to middle age in the +country. + +Neal entered the room in answer to the ring. The doctor had been out +that morning, but returned earlier than usual, for it was not much +past twelve. It was the day subsequent to the departure for school of +Dick and Leo. + +"What a poor fire you have got here, Neal!" said the doctor. "Bring a +few sticks and pile the coal on. I feel chilly." + +"I hope you have not taken a fresh cold, sir," respectfully observed +Neal, as he stirred up the fire preparatory to getting the sticks. + +Whether Neal was right or not as to the fresh cold, certain it was, +that before night unfavourable symptoms began to manifest themselves +in Dr. Davenal. And they increased rapidly. + +A few hours and the news went forth to the town--Dr. Davenal was in +danger. The consternation it excited cannot well be described--and if +described would scarcely be believed. Numbers upon numbers in that +town looked upon Dr. Davenal in the light of a public benefactor: they +honestly believed that his death would be one of the greatest +calamities that could befall them; they believed that, if he went, +nobody else could bring _them_ through danger, should it come upon +them. + +They hastened to the door with their anxious inquiries; they saw the +medical men of Hallingham pouring in. What was the matter with him? +they eagerly asked. How was he seized? + +It was inflammation of the chest, or lungs, or both, they were told. +It was in fact an increase of the cold which had been so long hanging +upon him, and _which he had neglected_. Oh, only a cold! they repeated +carelessly as they listened--what a mercy that it was nothing worse! +And they went away reassured. + +A day or two, and there came down a physician from London in answer to +a telegraphic dispatch. A day or two more and an ominous whisper went +forth to the town--that hope was over. The saddened inhabitants paced +to and fro, collected in groups about the door, and glanced up at the +doctor's windows, fearing if perchance the blind should have been +drawn since they last looked. They watched the medical men glide in +and out; they saw a lawyer go in with a bustling step, and came to the +conclusion that he went to make the will. Altogether Hallingham was in +a fever of excitement. + +But there occurred a change; contrary to even the most sanguine +expectation a change seemed to take place for the better. Dr. Davenal +rallied. The most painful symptoms left him, and some of those around +him said he was getting well. + +One evening at dusk Neal was observed to come out of the house with a +quick movement and hasten up the street. As usual he was instantly +surrounded, waylaid by anxious inquirers. + +Yes, it was perfectly true, Neal answered, his master was so much +better as to surprise all who saw him. The change took place early +that morning, and he had been mending ever since. He was well enough +to sit up: was sitting up then. + +Then there was a hope that he'd recover? the questioners rejoined, +scarcely daring to speak the joyful words. + +O yes, there seemed every hope of it now. Mr. Cray, who had just gone +out, remarked to him, Neal, that he looked upon his master as cured. +But Neal couldn't stop to talk more with them then, he said; he was +hastening to the chemist's for a draught which the doctor himself had +sent him for. + +Neal got the draught, imparted the news of the doctor's wonderful +improvement to the crowd collecting at the chemist's, for no end of +gossipers pressed into the shop when they saw Neal there--retraced the +streets with his soft tread, and arrived at home. Entering the +consulting-room, where the fire in the grate was getting low, he +passed on to his master's bedchamber. Quite a bright chamber for an +invalid's. The fire was blazing in the grate, and a handsome lamp, +shining through the ornamental pink shade that covered its globe, +stood on the small round table. The bed was at the far end of the room +in a corner, and Dr. Davenal sat in an easy chair near the fire. He +was dressed, all but his coat; in place of that he wore a warm quilted +dressing-gown of soft rich silk; one of those rarely handsome +dressing-gowns that seem made to be looked at, not to be worn. + +He did not appear very ill. Wan and worn certainly, but not so ill as +might have been expected. His breath and voice were the worst: both +were painfully weak. The table had been drawn close to him, and he was +writing at it. A tolerably long letter it looked like, covering three +sides of large note-paper. Perhaps if the truth had been declared, he +had got up purposely to write this letter. + +Sara sat on the other side the fireplace, ready to wait upon him. How +she had borne the agony of the last few days and been _calm_, she did +not know, she never would know: it was one of the sharp lessons learnt +from life's necessities. "You may be with him," the physician in +London bad said to her, "provided you can maintain composure in his +presence. The witnessing of a child's grief is sometimes the worst +agony that the dying have to bear. I cannot sanction your being in the +room unless you can promise to be calm." + +"I will promise it," replied Sara in a low tone; but that one +expression "the dying" had turned her whole heart to sickness. + +Yes, it was one of the lessons that must be learnt in the stern school +of life--the maintaining a composed exterior when the heart is +breaking. That she was given to reticence of feeling by nature, was of +service to Sara Davenal then. But surely the trials that had latterly +fallen upon her were very bitter; the battle just now was sharp and +keen. + +She sat there in her soft dress of violet merino, so quiet and +unobtrusive in the sick-room, with its little white lace collar and +the narrow lace cuffs turned up on the bands of the sleeves at the +wrist. The first day of his illness she had on a silk dress rustling +against the chairs and tables, and she had the good sense to go and +change it. The chair she sat in was an elbow one, and her hot cheek +rested on her fingers as she strove to drive back the inward question +that _would_ intrude itself, whether this improvement was for good, or +only a fallacious one. She sat perfectly still, her eyes following the +motion of his feeble fingers, and it was thus that Neal interrupted +them. + +"The draught, sir," he said, laying it on the table. + +"Set a wine-glass by it," said the doctor. "That will do." + +So slowly and feebly! The voice seemed to come from deep down in +his chest, and not to be the doctor's voice at all; Neal put the +wine-glass as desired, and quitted the room; and the doctor wrote on. + +Only for a minute or two: the letter was drawing to a close. Dr. +Davenal pressed it with the blotting-paper, read it to himself slowly, +and then folded it and put it in an envelope. In all this, his fingers +seemed scarcely able to perform their office. He fastened it down, and +wrote on the outside his son's name. Then he looked at Sara, touching +the letter with his finger. + +"My dear, when the next mail goes out, should you have occasion to +write of me, let this be enclosed." + +"To write of you, papa?" she repeated in a faltering tone. But she +need not have asked the question--its meaning had only too surely +penetrated to her. + +"Should the worst have happened." + +"Oh, but--papa--you are getting better!" + +She checked the wailing tone; she remembered how necessary, as she had +been warned, was calmness in that room; she remembered her promise to +maintain it. She pressed her hands upon her bosom and remained still. + +"I will take that draught now, Sara, if you will pour it out." + +She rose from her seat, undid the paper, poured the contents of the +small bottle into the glass, and handed it to him. The doctor drank +it, and gave her back the glass with a smile. + +"Not one of those clever fellows thought of ordering me this; yet it's +the best thing for anybody suffering as I am. Ah! they have got +something to learn yet. I don't know how they'll get on without me?" + +"Papa, you may get well yet!" she interrupted; anti she _could not_ +prevent the anguished sound with which the words were spoken. + +He turned and looked at her; he seemed to have fallen into a momentary +reverie. But he made no direct answer. + +"Can you draw the table away, Sara? I don't want it so close now. +Gently; take care of the lamp." + +"Where shall I put this, papa?" she asked, referring to the letter. + +"In my desk in the next room. You'll know where to find it in case of +need. My keys are here, on the mantelpiece." + +She stopped to ask one question which seemed to be wrung from her in +her pain. "Is it to go all the same if you get better, papa?" + +"No. Not if I get better." + +Passing into the other room, which was lighted only by the fire, she +drew the desk from underneath the table, knelt down, unlocked it, and +put in the letter. It was addressed: "For my son, Edward Davenal." +Sara was locking the desk again, when some one entered the room and +came round the table to where she knelt. + +"My goodness! are you saying your prayers?" + +Wrapped in silks and ermine, her lovely face peeping out from a +charming pink bonnet, was Mrs. Cray. The doctor had expressed a wish +to Mark Cray that afternoon that Caroline would come to him, and Mark +had delivered the message when he got home. + +"Mark says Uncle Richard wants to see me," she explained, "so I +thought I'd run down at once. I can't stop; Berry and another friend +or two are going to dine with us. I am so delighted to hear of the +improvement in Uncle Richard! Mark says the danger is quite over." + +"If I could but be sure it was!" was Sara's answer. + +"There you are, with your doubts and fears! Never was anybody like +you, Sara. Don't I tell you Mark says it is? Yes, I'll take my cloak +off for the few minutes that I stop." + +She threw off her bonnet, and let the cloak slip from her shoulders, +displaying her evening attire, for she had dressed before she came +out: a silk, so light as to look almost white, that stood on end with +richness and rustled as she walked; the dazzling necklace, given by +Captain Davenal, on her white neck; a dewdropped pink rose in her +gleaming hair. + +Utterly unaccordant looked she with the chamber of the dying, as she +stepped into the other room. Dr. Davenal's eyes were fixed on her for +a moment in simple wonder, as if he saw a vision. Then he recognised +her, and held out his hand, a glad look pervading his countenance. + +"Well, Uncle Richard! I am so rejoiced that you are getting better. +You'll come and dance at our housewarming yet." + +"Are you going to hold one?" asked the doctor, as he held her hand in +his, and gazed up at her beauty. + +"Mark and I are thinking of it. We can do everything, you know, now +that that money's coming to me." + +"Ah," said the doctor, "it's about that money I want to talk to you. +Sit down, Caroline. How smart you are, my dear!" + +"Nay, I think it's you who are smart uncle," she returned with a gay +laugh. "So it has come into use at last!" + +Caroline touched the dressing-gown as she spoke. There had always been +a joke about this dressing-gown. A patient of the doctor's, as +fanciful as Lady Oswald and nearly as old, had made it with her own +hands and sent it to him. It had remained unused. For one thing, the +doctor was too plain in his habits and too busy a man to require a +dressing-gown at all; for another he had looked upon the garment as +extravagantly fine. + +"Yes," said he, in answer to Caroline's remark, "I have found it +useful today. It is very warm and comfortable. Caroline, I have been +talking again to Mark about the money." + +"Well, uncle?" + +"I don't know that it is well. Mark does not appear inclined to make +me any promise that it shall be settled upon you when it comes. I +urged it upon him very strongly this afternoon, and he answered me in +his light careless manner, 'Of course. O yes doctor, I'll remember;' +but he did not give a specific promise; whether by accident or design, +I cannot say. So I told him to send you down to me." + +"Yes, uncle," she said, thinking more of the weakness of the voice to +which she was listening, than of the import of the words. + +"This money must be settled upon you, Caroline, the instant that you +touch it. It is essential that a married woman should, if possible, +have some settlement. If I recover, I shall take care that this is so +settled, but----" + +"_If_ you recover!" she interrupted. "Why, Uncle Richard, you are +getting well as fast as you can. Mark says so. You are sitting up!" + +"True; I am sitting up; and I could not have sat up two or three days +ago. Still, I am not sure about the getting well." + +"But Mark says so; he says you are," reiterated Caroline. + +"And Mark's opinion, as a medical man, must be infallible, you think?" +rejoined the doctor, with a momentary look in his face that Caroline +did not understand. "At any rate, my dear, it is well to remember all +contingencies. 'Hope for the best, and prepare for the worst,' was one +of your grandpapa Davenal's favourite maxims. You must have the money +settled upon you----" + +"But, Uncle Richard, are you quite sure that it would be for the +best?" she interposed. "If the money is settled in that way, it would +be all tied up, and do us no good after all." + +"You would enjoy the interest." + +"That's not over much," said Caroline slightingly. "I and Mark have +been planning a hundred things that we might do with the money. +Refurnish the Abbey splendidly for one." + +"You and Mark are a couple of simpletons," retorted the doctor, +regaining momentarily his energy of voice. But the effort was too +much, and he lay panting for several minutes afterwards. Caroline sat +gazing at him, her finger unconsciously raised to her neck, playing +with the gleaming toy there. Which should she trust to, these signs of +illness, or Mark's opinion? + +"Caroline, I insist that the money be settled upon you. Were you and +Mark to waste it in nonsense, it would be nothing less than a fraud +upon your West Indian relatives from whom it is derived. You may tell +Mark so from me. That money, Carine, secured to you, would at least +keep the wolf from coming quite in, should he ever approach your +door." + +Caroline sat aghast, wondering whether the doctor had lost his senses. +"The wolf at the door for us, Uncle Richard. As if that could ever +be." + +"Ah, Carine, I have lived to know that there is no permanent certainty +in the brightest lot," he answered with a sigh. "My dear, more +experience has been forced upon me in the past year or two than I had +learned in the whole course of my previous life. Understand me once +for all, this money must be secured to you." + +"Very well, Uncle Richard," she answered with ready acquiescence. "It +shall be so, as you seem so much to wish it. I'll tell Mark all you +say." + +A few minutes longer, and Caroline rose. Dr. Davenal was surprised +that she should be going again so very soon, and looked inquiringly at +her. "Can't you stay a little longer, Caroline?" + +"I wish I could; but I shall hardly get back to dinner, and we expect +some friends today. Goodnight, Uncle Richard." + +He drew her face down to his, murmuring his farewell. Little did +Caroline Cray think it would be his last. + +Sara went out with her cousin, and saw her depart with the servant who +had waited for her. When she returned to the chamber, the doctor was +in deep thought. + +"I think you must bring the table near to me again, Sara," he said. +"There's another word or two I should like to write." + +"Yes, papa. Do you want Edward's letter?" + +"No, no; it's not to him. There. Dip the pen in the ink for me." + +It was a tacit confession of weakness that she did not like to hear; +and she saw that even in the short space of time that had elapsed +since he wrote before his strength had visibly declined. He was +scarcely able to guide the pen. + +"That will do," when he had traced a few lines. "Sara, should you have +occasion to send this, enclose it in a note from yourself, explaining +my state when I penned it; that I was almost past writing. Will you +remember?" + +"Yes, papa," she answered, her heart beating painfully at the words. + +"Fold it for me." + +Honourable in all her thoughts and actions, Sara folded the note with +the writing turned from her. It is just possible some children might +have been sufficiently actuated by curiosity to glance at least at the +name at the commencement of the note. Not so Sara Davenal. She placed +it in an envelope and fastened it down. + +"I think I can direct it, Sara. Just the name." + +She gave him the pen, and he traced the name in uneven, doubtful +letters. Sara noted it with surprise, and perhaps her pulses +quickened. "O. Oswald Cray, Esquire." + +"Put it in my desk with Edward's, my dear. If you have occasion to +send the one, you will the other." As she unlocked the desk again her +tears were raining down fast. In all that her father was saying and +doing there seemed to be a foreshadowing in his own mind of his +approaching death. She quitted the room for a few minutes that her +emotion might spend itself, and in the interval Miss Davenal entered. +The soft rustling of Miss Bettina's sweeping silks aroused the doctor, +who had fallen into a dose. She went up and took his hand. + +"Richard, how are you tonight?" + +"I hardly know. Middling." + +"Sara is fancying you are not so well." + +"Is she?" + + "But she always was given to fancies, you know. Is it right that you +should sit up so long the first time of leaving your bed?" + +"Yes, I like the change. I was tired of bed. Sit down, Bettina. There +are one or two things I want to say to you." + +"Are you finding yourself worse?" + +"Bettina, I have not been better." + +"The doctors have thought you so," she said, after a pause. + +"Ay, but I know more of my own state than they can tell me. When the +suffering and its signs passed, they leaped to the conclusion that the +disease had left me. In a measure, so it has, but they should have +remembered in how many of such cases the apparent improvement is all +deceit, the forerunner of the end." + +Bettina Davenal fully understood the words and what they implied. But +she was not a demonstrative woman, and the rubbing together of her +white and somewhat bony hands was the sole sign of the inward aching +heart. + +"And I am thankful for the improvement," added the doctor. "It is not +all who are permitted this freedom from pain in their dying hours." + +"O Richard! is there _no_ hope?" + +"I fear not," he gravely answered. "I am accustomed to impress upon my +patients the great truth that while there is life there is hope, and I +should be worse than a heathen to ignore it in my own case. But, all I +can say is, I cannot trust to it." + +She had laid one of her hands upon the folds of the dressing-gown, and +the doctor could feel the twitching of the fingers. He had asked her +to sit down, but she preferred to stand. Close to him, with her head +bent, she could hear his low words without much misapprehension, so +deliberately were they spoken between the panting breath. + +"Bettina, I don't go to my grave as I thought I should have gone, +providing for my children. I have been obliged to sacrifice all I had +put by. It was not a great deal, it's true, for I am but what's called +a middle-aged man, and my expenses have been high. Could I have +foreseen my early death, I should have lived at half the rate. And +this sacrifice will not die with me. The house--I daresay I shall +shock you, Bettina--is mortgaged; not, however, to its full value. I +have directed in my will that it shall be sold; and the residue, after +the mortgage is paid--can you hear me?" he broke off to ask. + +"Every word." + +"The residue and the proceeds of the furniture, and those two small +cottages of mine, and other effects which will be likewise sold, will +make a fair sum. There's money owing to me in the town, too. +Altogether I expect there will not be much less than three thousand +pounds----" + +"Richard!" shrieked out Miss Bettina, in her emotion. "_Three_ +thousand! I thought you were worth ten at least." + +"No, it was not so much as that altogether. I had four or five +thousand put by. Never mind: I say I have had to sacrifice it. I feel +how imprudent I have been, now that it is too late." + +"To what have you had to sacrifice it?" + +The doctor paused before he replied. "A sudden claim came upon me of +which I knew nothing: a claim for thousands. No, Bettina, I know what +you wish to say--believe me, I _could not_ resist it: to pay it was +obligatory. The worst is, I could not pay it all: and the sum which +the property will realise will have to be applied to liquidate it." + +"But you can tell me what the claim was for?" + +"No, I cannot. It is not altogether my secret, Bettina, and you must +not inquire into it. I need not have mentioned it at all to you, but +for speaking of Sara. My poor children must suffer. Edward has his +day, and he will have to make it suffice: Sara has nothing. Bettina, +you will give her a home?" + +"There's no necessity for you to ask it," was Bettina Davenal's +answer. But she spoke crossly; for the want of confidence in not +intrusting to her the nature of this secret was hurting her feelings +bitterly. "Should anything happen to you, Sara will naturally find a +home with me--if she can put up with its plainness. I shall make her +as welcome, and consider it as obligatory on me to do so, as though +she were my own child." + +The doctor lay back for a moment in his chair, panting. His fingers +clasped themselves over hers in token of thanks. + +"Richard, surely you might place more confidence in me! If you have +been called upon to pay this money in consequence of--of any bygone +trouble or debt contracted in your youth--and I conclude it must be +something of that sort--do you suppose I cannot be true and keep your +counsel? I know what follies the young plunge into!" + +"Follies? Crimes, rather!" And the words broke from Dr. Davenal with a +groan which told of the deepest mental anguish. It pained even the +dull ear that was bent to it. + +"Bettina, I say that you must not ask me. If it concerned myself alone +you should know as much as I do, but I could not tell you without +betraying another; and--and there might be danger. Let it rest. Better +for you that it should do so, for it would disturb your peace as it +has disturbed mine." + +"It's a dreadful sum," said Miss Bettina. + +"It is that. And my poor children must be left beggars. I have +enjoined Mark Cray to pay three hundred pounds yearly to Sara for five +years, out of the proceeds of the practice. He can well afford to do +it: and if you will give her a home, this had better be invested for +her, Bettina." + +"Of course. But what's three hundred for five years? You might make +better terms with Mark Cray than that." + +"Mark has promised faithfully to do it. I have been talking with him +this afternoon about that and other things. I asked him what sum he +would feel inclined to pay to Sara out of the business, and for what +term. He said he thought he could give three hundred a-year, and would +continue it for five years." + +"Considering all things, it is not a very generous offer," persisted +Miss Bettina. "Had your life been spared, Mark could not have expected +to step into the whole of the practice these twenty years." + +"It is very fair, I think, Bettina. Mark must acquire experience, +remember, must work his way up to the public confidence, before people +trust him as they have trusted me. He will not have his rooms filled +daily with patients at a guinea a head. This has come upon me +suddenly, or all things might have been managed differently. I think +it would be a good plan for Mark to leave the Abbey for this house; I +have told him so; but he will be the best judge of that." Miss Bettina +quitted her stooping posture by the doctor and sat down, revolving all +that had been said. She sat slowly rubbing her hands the one over the +other, as was her habit when anything troubled her. + +"I cannot realise it," she said, in a half whisper, "Richard, I +_cannot_ realise it. Surely you are not going from us!" + +"I am but going to those who have preceded me, Bettina," he answered. +"My wife, and Richard, and others, who have gone on before, are +waiting for me, and I in my turn shall wait for you. This fretting +life is over. How poor!--_how poor!_"--he added more emphatically, as +he clasped his hands--"do even its best interests now seem beside +eternity!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. +LAST HOURS. + + +The lamp was placed on a chest of drawers behind the chair of Dr. +Davenal. It was getting on for ten o'clock. Quite time, as had been +suggested to him, that he should be in bed; but he appeared unwilling +to move. He felt easy, he said: and therefore he stayed on. + +The flickering light of the fire, now burning with a dull red +heat, now bursting up into a blaze, threw its rays upon the +chamber--destined, ere that night should close, to be a chamber of +death, although they, the watchers, as yet suspected it not. The light +fell upon the simple bed at the far corner, destitute of hangings--for +the doctor was a foe to curtains--upon the dwarf cabinet beside it, +whose lower shelves enclosed a few choice books, upon the drawers, +upon the dressing-table at the farther window, and upon the open space +at this end where the fire was. The light fell on the doctor as he lay +back in the gaudy dressing-gown, on the chair-pillow, one hand hanging +down listlessly, the other fondly resting on the soft brown hair of +his daughter. + +She sat on a footstool by his side, nestled close to him. Her head +bowed down, for she had much ado to conceal and subdue her emotion, +her hands clasped and laid upon his knee. The dread fear that he was +dying rested on her heart; had come to it, as it seemed, by intuition. +Not a word yet of this ominous dread had been spoken between them; +each seemed to shrink from the task. But Sara strove to gather courage +and strength, so that in his presence she might at least not give way. + +The doctor stretched out his disengaged hand and pointed to a china +cup that stood on the table. Sara rose and brought it to him, and he +took a few spoonfuls of the refreshment it contained. + +"Is not the fire getting low, my dear?" he asked, with a slight +shiver. + +She rose and stirred it, brought forward the coal-box and put on fresh +coal, and then took the hearth-brush and swept the bars and the +hearth, making things comfortable. + +"Do you feel cold, papa?" + +"I think so," he answered, with another shiver. + +"I am sure you would be better in bed. Shall I call Neal?" + +"Not yet. Come and sit down again." She took her place, nestling to +him as before, and he fondly stroked her head with his feeble hand. It +seemed to her that the hand grew feebler with every change, every +fresh movement. + +"I have a few things to say to you, my dear, and I had better say them +now. I should not like to go to sleep with them unspoken." + +Did he mean the sleep of death? Sara trembled inwardly: she hoped that +she should retain sufficient strength, no matter at what cost to her +feelings, not to tremble outwardly. + +"It was necessary that I should make a fresh will," he began after a +pause. "In the old will----" + +"O papa! surely you are not going from me!" + +Utterly unnerved, the words had broken from her in her misery. Dr. +Davenal resumed in a tender, reasoning accent. + +"I must have you brave, darling; just for a short while. Won't you try +and be so? You see I have only you to speak to, Edward being away. My +strength may not last very long." + +She understood him: that his strength might not hold out if she +hindered him by giving way to emotion. The precious time! not much of +it might be left to them. With a mighty effort of will, with an +anguished sigh to Heaven for help, Sara Davenal outwardly grew still +and calm. + +"Tell me all you have to tell, papa. I will try and be to you what +Edward would have been." + +"In the old will, made subsequent to the death of Richard, the chief +part of what I had to leave was divided equally between you and +Edward. Caroline--but it matters not to speak of her. In this new +will, made now since this illness, all I die possessed of is +bequeathed to you." + +"To me!" she echoed, the injustice of the thing striking on her mind +in the first blush of the words. + +"Do you think, after what has happened, that Edward could have any +right to it?" + +She was silent. The doctor lay still for a few moments to gather +breath. His voice was so weak that she could barely catch some of the +words. + +"When Edward brought that ill upon us, which has gone well-nigh to +kill me--which I believe in a measure has killed me, in so far as that +it rendered my state of mind and body such that I have been unable +to fight against what might otherwise have proved but a slight +disorder--when he brought it upon us, I say, I had only one way open +to me--to sacrifice my property and save him. All fathers might not +have done it, though most would: but I believe few fathers love their +children as I have loved mine. But to save him, I had not only to +sacrifice my property, but also in a measure to sacrifice you." + +"Papa," she said, lifting her head, "I wish I might ask you +something." + +"Well--do so." + +"If you would but trust me more entirely. When Edward came that night +and you called me down, I learnt he was in some dangerous trouble; but +I learnt no further. Since then nothing but fears have haunted me." + +"And have they not haunted me?" echoed the doctor in a strange tone of +pain. "The night stands out in my memory like a frightful dream. Think +what it was. When I was lingering in that front room there, full of +the trouble brought to me by the death of Lady Oswald, not yet cold, +there came a tapping at the window, and I looked out and saw Edward. +Edward, my son!--disguised, as may almost be said, for he did not care +to be recognised in Hallingham; and in truth recognition might have +been dangerous. 'Let me in quietly, father,' he said, 'I am in +danger.' Sara, were I to live to be an old man, could not forget the +effect those words had upon me. I was unnerved that evening: the +recent death of Lady Oswald and--and--its unhappy circumstances were +as vividly before me as though it was being enacted then, and I was +unnerved to a degree not usual. He wore a cap on his head, and a plaid +scarf very much up about his neck, in fact just as any gentleman might +travel, but I had not been accustomed to see Edward so dressed. His +voice, too, was hushed to a warning tone. 'Let me in quietly, father. +I am in danger.' In the first confused moment I declare I thought of +some threatened danger in the street--that some wild animal was +running loose: strange ideas do occur to one in these sudden moments. +I let him in, and he began hurriedly to tell me that he did not want +his visit to be known, for he was absent from quarters without leave; +nay, in defiance of leave, which had been denied to him as +inconvenient to be granted in the hurried period of the regiment's +departure. But he was compelled to see me, he continued, and--then--he +told me all." + +"Told you what, papa?" she whispered, when the doctor's moan of +reminiscence had died away. + +"Of the awful position into which his folly had plunged him. Of the +crime that he had committed, and which, if not hushed up, _bought_ up, +one may say, would in a few days find him out. Sara, Sara! men have +been hung for that same crime in days not so long gone by." + +He, the unhappy father, stopped to wipe from his face the dews that +had gathered there. It was an awful tale for a father to tell; it was +more awful for him to have heard it. Sara shivered: she did not dare +to interrupt by a single word. + +"My gallant son, of whom I had been so proud! Youth's follies had been +his in plenty; vanity, extravagance, expenditure, bringing debt in +their train, which I had satisfied, more than once, over and above the +handsome allowance I made him: But crime, never. Sara, when that night +was over, I felt that I would rather die than live it over again, with +its sudden lifting of the curtain to pain and shame." + +"Papa, if----" + +"Hush, child! Let me finish this part while I can speak. He confessed +all in its fullest extent. The ice once broken he told the whole. +Indeed, he had no choice but to tell it, for it was only by knowing it +entirely that I could help him. Had he concealed the half of it he +might as well have concealed all: and he might have stood at his +country's bar to answer for his crime." Sara gave a great cry. +Terrible as her vague doubts had been, pointing sometimes to the very +darkest sin that is comprised in the decalogue, the one which Oswald +Cray had even dared to whisper in her ear, it was so much worse to +hear those doubts confirmed. + +"At his country's bar?" + +"Child, yes. Don't I tell you what the punishment would have been for +it not many years ago? What could I do but save him? Had it been +necessary to part with every stick and stone I possessed in the +world, I must have parted with them--anything, everything, so as to +save him. I told him what I would do; that I would start before +morning light--for speed was necessary--and get to London and stop the +danger. On his part he had to go back by the train that passes through +here at midnight, and so be at quarters by the morrow, that his +absence might not be known. Before he went he begged to see you. I +think that he then--Sara, I think it now, and have for some little +time--that he then had made up his mind not to come down again: or +else he fancied that he should not be able to come. However that may +have been, he begged to see you; and I, seeing I must confess no +reason for it, called you down. And the rest you know." + +"I don't know one thing," she whispered. "Papa, I don't know what it +was--the crime." + +"And better that you should not," he answered with a vehemence +surprising in his weak state. "I would not have adverted to it at all, +but for what I have to explain to you. Listen, Sara, for there are +directions that I must give you now." + +Pausing, he held his hand up for an instant as if to bespeak her +attention, and then resumed. + +"I shall startle you if I say that the money I was called upon to find +was no less than eight thousand pounds. Ah! you may well lift your +head, child! And this imprudent, sinful man was your brother and my +son, and Heaven only knows how dearly I love him still! Five thousand +of it I paid at once, and the rest I arranged to pay later, at +different periods. This very Christmas, I have paid another five +hundred, leaving two thousand five hundred yet to pay. I have directed +that whatever I die possessed of shall be sold, and the money paid +over to you, my daughter, Sara Davenal: The terms of the will may +excite curiosity; people will marvel why I did not appoint trustees; +and you, my darling, must be content to let them marvel. The residue, +after my debts are paid, will be, as I judge, about three thousand +pounds. And of this, Sara, two thousand five hundred must be given to +these people, who hold Edward's safety in their hands." + +Again she was startled. "Do they hold it still?" + +"They do. They hold his--I may almost say life--in their hands. Once +they are paid, the danger will have passed. You will make no +unnecessary delay?" + +"No," she said with a shudder. "The very hour the money is in my hands +it shall be paid to them." + +"In my desk, in the private compartment, you will find a sealed paper +addressed to yourself. It contains full directions how you must +accomplish this, and who the parties are. I thought it well to write +this down for you, that there might be no mistake or forgetfulness. +Inside this paper you will find a letter addressed to these people, +and that I wish you to post with your own hands--with your own +hands--within four-and-twenty hours after my death. Do you clearly +understand?" + +"Yes, she clearly understood, she answered; answered from the depths +of her quivering heart. + +"And I think that is all, so far as that unhappy business is +concerned. Oh, my child, my child! if I could but have left you better +off!" + +"Papa, don't grieve for that!" she said in the midst of her choking +sobs. "I shall do very well." + +"You will have your home with your aunt. And Mark Cray is to pay you a +certain sum for five years, which must be invested for you. Bettina +will take care of you: but she is not of a cheering temper. If I could +but have left you in a happier home!" + +Looking forward, she felt that all homes would be pretty much alike to +her with her load of grief and care. Surely the sorrows of life had +fallen upon her early! + +"I began to think, just about the time of Caroline's marriage, or a +little before it, that Oswald Cray was growing to like you very much," +resumed Dr. Davenal. "But it may have been only my own fancy. I was +mistaken with regard to him once before; perhaps also was again?" + +She sat silent, her head down, the fingers of her hands nervously +entwining themselves one within the other. + +"You don't answer me, Sara. It may be the last time I shall ask you +anything." + +"It is all over, papa," she said, lifting her streaming eyes. "Then +there was! What has ended it?" + +Ought she to tell him? _Could_ she tell him? Would it be right or wise +to do so--to increase the sense of _ill_, wrought by her unhappy +brother, already lying with so bitter a weight, in spite of his love, +on Dr. Davenal's spirit! No, she thought she ought not. Her sense of +right as well as her reticence of feeling shrunk from the task. + +"Child, have you no answer for me?" + +"Something--unpleasant--arose between us," she said, in a faltering +whisper. "And so we parted. It was neither his fault nor mine; it--it +was the fault of circumstances." + +"Ah!" said the doctor, "a foolish quarrel. But I had thought both of +you superior to it. Should the cloud ever pass away, and he wish to +make you his wife, remember that you have my full and free +approbation--that my blessing would go with it. In spite of his pride +and his caprice, I like Oswald Cray." + +"It never will pass away," she interrupted, almost with vehemence. "It +is a thing impossible. We have bidden adieu to all that for ever." + +"Well, you know best. I only say, if it should be. Is it this that has +kept him from the house?" + +"Yes. O papa, when you were blaming him for taking foolish and unjust +offence against Lady Oswald's will, I wish you could have known what a +mistake it was." + +"And, Sara, I have urged on Caroline, as you heard me, that that money +should be secured to herself," he continued, passing to a different +subject. "I have spoken to your aunt; I have written of it to Oswald +Cray--for that is the purport of my note to him. My dear, do you +reiterate the same to them by word of mouth; and say that I urged it +again with my dying breath. I don't know why the necessity for this +should cling to my mind so strongly," he continued in a dreamy tone. +"Unless it is because I dreamt a night or two ago that Mark had run +through all his means, and Caroline was lying in some strange place, +ill, and in grievous poverty. It was a vivid dream; and is as present +to me now as it was when I dreamt it." + +Sara pressed her hands upon her face. The effort to sustain her +calmness was getting beyond her strength. + +"Say that I urged it again with my dying breath! And give my love to +the two little boys, Sara. Tell them that Uncle Richard would have +sent for them to take a last farewell, had death not come upon him so +suddenly. But there's no time; and tell them we shall meet again in +that far-off land, when their toils and mine shall be alike over. +Charge them to be ever working on for it." + +She could not contain herself longer. Her very heart was breaking. And +she turned with choking sobs, and hid her face upon his breast. + +"Don't, my darling! Don't grieve hopelessly. It is God's will to take +me, and therefore we should not sorrow as those without hope. I have +tried of late to live very near Him, to resign myself to Him in all +things. My life had become one long weary trouble, Sara--perhaps he is +taking me from it in love." + +"O papa! But I shall be left!" + +"Ah, child, but you are young; life for you is only in its morning, +and though clouds have gathered overhead, they may clear away again, +leaving only brightness behind them. Think what it has been for me! To +wake from troubled sleep in a night of pain to the dread that ere the +day closed the name of my only remaining son might be in the mouths of +men--a felon! Child, no wonder that I am dying." + +Sara could not speak. She lifted her arm and let it fall across him. +Dr. Davenal laid his hand lovingly on the bowed head. + +"Yes, I am resigned to die. I would have lived on longer if I could; +but that is denied me, and God has reconciled me to the decree. When +you shall come to be as old as I am, Sara, you will have learnt how +full of mercy are the darkest troubles, if we will but open our eyes +to look for it." + +Sara Davenal, in her keen distress, could not see where the mercy lay +for her. To lose her father seemed to be the very consummation of all +earthly misery. How many more of us have so felt when stern death was +taking one we loved better than life! + +"I am so glad I gave that money of Lady Oswald's back to the rightful +owners!" he resumed, after a pause. "It has brought its comfort to me +now. I am glad, too, that I have lived to see them in possession of +it; that no vexatious delays were made to intervene. Had it not been +settled before I died, there's no knowing what might have arisen. +Sara, remember that our past acts find us out on our dying bed. +Whether they have been good or evil, they come home to us then." + +His voice had grown so faint that it was more by guessing than by +hearing that she understood the words. Presently she looked up and saw +that his eyes were closed; but his lips were in motion, and she +thought he was praying. She began to wish he would get into bed, but +when she attempted to move, his hand tightened around her. + +"No: stay where you are. God bless you! God bless you always, my +child!" + +She remained on as before, her cheek resting on the dressing-gown. +Presently Miss Bettina came in. + +"It is the most wrong thing for you to sit up like this, Richard!" she +was beginning, when she caught sight of his closed eyes. "Is he +asleep, Sara? How could you let him go to sleep in his chair at this +hour He ought--What's the matter?" + +Miss Bettina--calm, cold, impassive Miss Bettina--broke off with a +shriek as she spoke the last words. She went closer to him and touched +his forehead. + +Sara rose; and a bewildering look of hopeless terror took possession +of her own face as she saw that white one lying there. Richard Davenal +had passed to his rest. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. +SORROW. + + +To describe the sorrow, the consternation that fell on all Hallingham +in the loss of Dr. Davenal, would be a fruitless task. People could +not believe that he was really dead. It had been asserted that the +danger was past, and he was getting better rapidly. They looked at +each other in a bewildered sort of way, and asked what he had died of? +Of a neglected cold, was the answer of those who knew best, or +supposed they knew--the medical body of Hallingham. And indeed there +was little doubt that they were correct: the immediate malady which +had deprived the town of that valuable life was a very simple thing--a +cold, neglected at the onset. + +Sara Davenal was stunned: stunned with the weight of the calamity, +with the grief it brought. And yet it probably fell upon her with less +startling intensity than it would have done had she been in the full +suntide of prosperity. She had been recently living in nothing but +sorrow. The grief and terror brought to her by that night's unhappy +secret (which you now know was connected with her brother), had been +succeeded by the withdrawal of the friendship--to call it by a light +name--of Oswald Cray. She had believed that the world could bring no +other calamity that could add to her misery: she had not thought of +that most grievous one--a father's death. + +In all pain there must be a reaction: the very violence of the first +grief induces it; and it came sooner to Sara Davenal than it does to +most sufferers. Or, it may be, that the grave, the _real_ nature of +the grief brought its own effects. Had it been simple mourning alone, +the natural sorrow for the loss of a good and loving father, she might +have gone on weeping for months: but there was behind it that heritage +of terror on her brother's account, there was the consciousness that +with her the heavy secret was left, and the completion of its +purchase. The blinding tears ceased, the lively grief settled down +into one long, inward, dull agony; and ere many days went over, she +had become, in manner, almost unnaturally cold and calm. "How well his +daughter bears it," the town said, when it had an opportunity of +seeing her. In her subdued manner, her still face, her low measured +tones which never trembled, they read only serene resignation. Ah! how +few of us think to remember in everyday life that it is the silent +grief that does its work within. + +She was obliged so soon to set about her responsibilities. Dr. +Davenal's request to her had been to post a certain letter that she +would find in his desk within four-and-twenty hours of his decease: to +post it herself. On the afternoon of the day following the death, she +carried the desk to her own room and examined it. There was the letter +to Edward, there was the letter to Oswald Cray; both were lying where +she had placed them; and there was the packet addressed to herself. +The letter it enclosed was directed "Mr. Alfred King, care of Messrs. +Jones and Green, Essex Street, Strand, London." The directions to +herself were very clear. As soon as the money was realised she was to +write and appoint an interview with Mr. Alfred King, and pay over to +him the two thousand five hundred pounds upon his delivering up to her +certain papers, copies of which were enclosed. This interview might +take place at Hallingham if Mr. Alfred King would journey to it: if he +declined, she would be under the necessity of going to London and +meeting him at Messrs. Jones and Green's. But on no account was she to +pay the money by deputy or by letter, because it was essential that +she should examine the papers that would be delivered to her, and see +that they tallied with the copies written down. Mr. Alfred King would +then have to sign a receipt, which the doctor had written and sealed +up, and which, he added, she had better not unseal until the moment +came for signing it. The receipt and one or two of the papers she was +afterwards to re-seal and keep until the return of Edward Davenal. If +Edward died abroad, then they were to be burnt. + +Sara re-locked the desk; and still she could not form any very +definite idea of what Edward's crime had been. The letter to Mr. +Alfred King and the letter to Oswald Cray she kept out, for they must +be posted ere the day should close. She went out herself at dusk and +posted them; whatever duty lay before her, she felt that she must go +about it, shrinking from none. Girl though she was in years, she was +beginning to feel old in sorrow: no teacher is like unto it. There are +woes that bring more experience to the heart in the first night of +their falling than will half a lifetime of smooth years. + +It was through the letter sent to him that Oswald Cray first learnt +the death of Dr. Davenal. He was seated at his breakfast-table in +Parliament Street, eyes and thoughts buried in the "Times," when Benn +came in with the letters, a whole stack of them, and laid them down by +his side. There Oswald let them lie: and it was only in gathering them +up later to take down and open in his business-room, that his eye fell +on one in particular, rather a large envelope, with a black border and +a black seal. He knew the writing well, and a flush of emotion rose to +his face as he opened it. Two notes were enclosed. + + + "My Dear Mr. Oswald Cray, + +"I do not knot, whether I shall be the first to tell you of the death +of my dear father. He died last night, about ten o'clock. An hour or +two previously he penned the enclosed note to you; and he bade me add +a few lines when I forwarded it, to explain that when he attempted it +he was almost past writing. But that he made this an especial request, +I would not have troubled you with anything from myself: indeed I am +scarcely capable of writing coherently today, for my grief is very, +great. + + "Believe me very sincerely yours, + + "Sara Davenal." + + +The first rapid gathering-in of the general sense over, he leaned his +elbow on the table and read the words deliberately. It was just the +note that her good sense would prompt her to write, under the altered +relations between them. He felt that it was--but he had not witnessed +her hesitation and the doubt whether she should not rather address him +formally than as a friend. If those dandy clerks in the rooms below, +if those grave gentlemen with whom he would be brought in contact +during the day, had but seen him press those two words, "Sara +Davenal," to his lips! He, the reserved, self-possessed man of +business, he of the cold, proud spirit! he kissed the name as +fervently as any schoolboy kisses that in his first love-letter. + +And then he recollected himself; and as his wits, which had certainly +gone wool-gathering, came back to him, another flush dyed his face far +deeper than the last had dyed it; a flush of shame that he should have +been betrayed into the folly. Besides, that was not the way to help +him to forget her; as it was imperative on him that he should forget. + +He took up the note of the doctor. And he could scarcely believe that +that weak, scrawling writing was traced by the once bold, clear hand +of Dr. Davenal. It ran as follows:-- + + + "My Dear Friend,--I call you so in spite of the coolness that has +come between us. I would that all should be friends with me in my +dying hour. + +"The expected money, as you probably know, is at last to come to +Caroline. I shall not be spared to urge its settlement upon herself, +but do you urge it. As soon as it shall be paid over, let Mark secure +it to Caroline absolutely, so that she and her children may have +something to fall back upon in case of need. They are both young, both +thoughtless, and, if left to themselves in the matter, will be almost +sure to waste the money, so that it would do no real good to either. +If Mark--I cannot write more: sight is failing. + +"Fare you well, My Friend, + +"R. D." + + +And he was dead! For a few moments, Oswald forgot all his doubts and +fears of the man, and leaped back in memory to the time when he had +respected him more than anybody in the world. _Had_ he died with that +weight of guilt upon him? How weighty was it? how far did it extend? +It seemed strange that he should so soon have followed Lady Oswald. +Had remorse hastened his death? But, in spite of these thoughts, which +Oswald called not up willingly, he did feel a deep sense of regret, of +sorrow for Dr. Davenal, and wished that his life might have been +spared to him. + +It was incumbent on him to answer the other note, and he sat down to +his writing-table and drew a sheet of paper towards him, and began: + +"My Dear----" + +There he stopped. How should he address her? My dear Miss Davenal?--or +My dear Sara? The one seemed too formal, considering how long he had +called her Sara, considering that the present moment of deep sorrow +should make all her friends especially tender to her. But yet--My dear +Sara--better perhaps that he should not. So he finally began: + + +"My Dear Miss Davenal, + +"I do indeed heartily sympathise with you in your great affliction. I +wish for your sake and his that the doctor's life had been spared. You +do not give me any particulars--and I could not at such a moment +expect them--but I fear his death must have been sudden. Will you allow +me to exercise the privilege of a friend, in begging you to endeavour +to bear up as bravely as it is possible for you to do, in these first +keen moments of grief. When next at Hallingham I will, with your +permission, call on you and Miss Davenal, and express to you in person +my heartfelt sympathy. Meanwhile believe me now and always your truly +sincere friend, + + "O. OSWALD CRAY. + +"Miss Sara Davenal." + + +"Of course Mark must settle it upon her!" he said to himself as he +glanced again at the contents of the doctor's note to him. "It is not +to be supposed he would do otherwise. However, I'll mention it when I +go next to Hallingham." + +And, gathering the papers together, he locked them in his private +desk, and went down to enter on his day's work, carrying the rest of +the letters in his hand. + +On the day subsequent to the interment of Dr. Davenal, Sara told her +aunt she should go and see the two little boys. It had been her wish +that they should be sent for to attend the funeral, but Miss Davenal +objected: they were over young, she considered. Sara was too really +miserable to care about it: of what little moment do trifles seem when +the mind is ill at ease! + +Miss Davenal again objected to her visit. In fact, had lookers-on been +gifted with prevision, they might have seen that the opinions and +course of herself and niece would be henceforth somewhat antagonistic +to each other. She objected to Sara's proposed visit, recommending her +to defer it for a week or two. + +"But, aunt, I want to see them," urged Sara. "I know how grieved they +have been: though Dick is random and light-headed, he has a most +tender heart. And papa gave me a dying message to deliver to them." + +"I say that it is too soon to go," repeated Miss Davenal. "A pretty +thing for you to be seen gadding about out of doors the very day after +your poor papa is taken from the house." + +"O aunt! Gadding! I----" for a moment she struggled with her tears: +the thought of the terrible weight of sorrow she must carry out with +her wherever she went presented such a contrast to the word. At home +or out, she was ever living in her breaking heart: and it appeared of +little consequence what the world might say. She believed it was her +duty to see the boys as soon as possible, and she had fully resolved +that her duty, in all ways, should be performed to the uttermost, +Heaven helping her. + +"I must go, aunt," she said; "I think I am doing right." + +She walked in her deep mourning, with her crape veil over her face, to +the station. One of the porters got her ticket for her and saw her +into the carriage. Whether by the good-feeling of the man or not, she +did not know, but no one else was put into the same compartment. She +felt quite grateful to the man, as the train steamed on, and, she lay +back on the well-padded seat. + +The train was express, and she reached the station where she was to +descend in less than an hour and a half. Dr. Keen's house was very +near. To gain its front entrance she had to pass the large playground. +The boys were out for their midday play, and Dick Davenal's roving +eye caught sight of her. He climbed over the railings, in spite of +rules, and burst into tears as he laid hold of her. Sara had pictured +the two boys in apple-pie order in their new mourning, quiet and +subdued; but here they were in their ordinary clothes, dirty and +dusty, and Dick had a woeful rent in one knee. + +"O Sara! is it all true? Is he really dead and buried? Couldn't he +cure himself?" + +She subdued her own emotion--it was only in accordance with the line +she had laid down for herself. She kissed the boy in the face of the +sea of eyes peering through the rails, and held him near as they +advanced to the house. Leo, less daring than Dick, had gone round by +the gate, and Sara drew him on her other side as he came running up. + +She sat down in the room to which she was shown, holding the sobbing +boys to her. As she had said to her aunt, Dick had a tender heart, and +his sobs were loud and passionate. Leo cried with him. She waited to +let their emotion have vent, holding their hands, bending now and +again her face against theirs. + +"_Couldn't_ he be cured, Sara?" + +"No, dears, he could not be cured. It was God's will to take him." + +"Why didn't you have us home? Why didn't you let us say goodbye to +him?" + +"There was no time. We thought he was getting better, and it was only +quite at the very last we knew he was dying. He did not forget you and +Leo, Dick. He bade me tell you--they were his own words--that Uncle +Richard would have sent for you to take a last farewell, but that +death came upon him too suddenly. He bade me tell you that you will +meet him in that far-off land where your toils and his will be alike +over; and--listen, children!--he charged you to be ever working on for +it." + +Their sobs came forth again. Leo was the first to speak. "Have you +written to Barbadoes to tell papa?" + +"Aunt Bettina has. See, dears, here are two silver pencil-cases; they +were both your Uncle Richard's. The one has his crest on it; the other +his initials, R D. I thought you would like to have some little +remembrance of him, and I brought them. Which will you choose, Dick? +You are the eldest." Dick took the pencils in his hand and decided on +the largest, the one that bore the initials. The stone was a beautiful +one, a sapphire. + +"Is it real, Sara?" + +"O yes. This is the best for you, as the initials would not stand for +Leo. The other stone is real, too, Leo; opal. Try and not lose them." + +"I'll never lose mine," avowed Dick. Leo only shook his head in +answer, as he put the momento in his pocket. + +The gifts had created a diversion, and the tears began to dry upon +their faces; schoolboys' tears are not very deep. Sara spoke of their +mourning, inquiring why it was not on. + +"We wore it yesterday," said Dick. "And we had holiday, we two, and +stopped in Mrs. Keen's parlour instead of going into school. But the +housekeeper told us to put our other clothes on this morning; she said +if we wore our black suit every day, it would be done for in a week." + +Not unlikely--by the specimen of the present suit Mr. Dick wore. Sara +pointed to the rent in the knee. + +"I know," said Dick, looking carelessly down at it. "I did it only +just before I saw you, wrestling with a fellow. He says he's stronger +than I am, but he isn't, so we were trying which was best man. All in +good part, you know. I say, Sara, shall we come home for the holidays +now, as we used to?" + +"My dears, I don't know yet much about the future. It will be Aunt +Bettina's home now. I think she will be sure to have you as usual." + +"Why won't it be your home?" cried Dick, quickly. + +"I shall live with Aunt Bettina. It will not be the same home for +either of us--not the same house, I mean. I think--I don't know yet, +but I think it likely Mr. Cray and Caroline will come to it. Perhaps +Aunt Bettina will go to one of her own houses." + +"Why can't you and Aunt Bettina stop in that?" + +"It is too large for us. And the things are going to be sold?" + +"The things going to be sold!" repeated Dick, lifting his eyes and +voice in amazement "Papa has so directed in his will. You know--at +least I dare say you have heard--that Aunt Bettina has a great deal of +very nice furniture which has been lying by in a warehouse ever since +she came to live with us. I can't tell you yet how things will be +settled." + +"I say, Sara, how slow and quiet you speak! And how pale you are!" + +Sara swallowed down a lump in her throat. "Papa was all I had left to +me, Dick. Leo, my dear, you are quiet and pale, too!" + +"I say, Sara--never mind Leo, he's all right--have you got a great +fortune left you? The boys here were saying you'd have such a lot: you +and the captain between you." + +"The boys were mistaken, Dick. Papa has not died rich. He died +something else, Dick--a good man. That is better than dying rich." + +"If he wasn't rich, why did he give back that money that Lady Oswald +left him?" + +"O Dick! Do you know that the remembrance of having given back that +money was one of his consolations in dying. Dick, dear, he hoped you +would work on always for that better world. But the acquiring money +wrongfully, or the keeping it unjustly, would not, I think, help you +on your road to it." + +They were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Keen, a kind, motherly +woman. She insisted on Sara's taking off her bonnet and partaking of +some refreshment. Sara yielded: choosing bread-and-butter and a cup of +coffee. And Mrs. Keen and Dick and Leo afterwards walked with her back +to the station. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. +WORK FOR THE FUTURE. + + +The clocks were striking four when Sara Davenal was walking through +the streets of Hallingham on her return. She stepped along rapidly, +her crape veil over her face, and was molested by none with greetings +or condolences: but she stopped of her own accord on meeting the poor +market-woman, Mrs. Hundley. The woman, her face broken by sorrow, +flung up her hands before Sara could speak. + +"To think that he should have been the first to go!--before my poor +boy, whose life, as may be said, he had been keeping in him! The one +a-dying for months past, the other a hale gentleman as seemed to have +health in him for a lifetime. Oh, miss! what will the sick do without +him?" + +"How is your son?" was all Sara's answer. + +"He has come nearly to his last, miss. Another week'll see the end. +When the news come out to us that the good Dr. Davenal was gone, we +couldn't believe it: and my boy, he says, 'Mother, it can't be; it +can't never be.' And he set on and sobbed like a child." + +In spite of her efforts the tears overflowed Sara's eyes. To have it +thus brought palpably before her was more than she could bear with +equanimity. "Papa is better off," was all she murmured. + +"Ay, he's better off: if ever a man had done his best in this world, +miss, it was him. But who'll be found to take his place?" + +With the full sense of the last question echoing on her ear, Sara +continued her way. At the top of the lane contiguous to their +residence was Roger, standing in disconsolate idleness. With the death +of his master Roger's occupation was gone. + +Sara spoke a kind word to him in passing, and met Mr. Wheatley coming +out at the gate, her father's close friend of many years. A surgeon +once, but retired from the profession now. He it was who was named the +sole executor to the doctor's will. + +The will, which was causing surprise to the curious in Hallingham, had +been made in the doctor's recent illness. It directed that all +property he died possessed of should be sold, and the money realised +be paid at once to his daughter. Everything was left to her. In the +previous will, destroyed to make room for this, Edward Davenal's name +had been associated with Mr. Wheatley's: in this Mr. Wheatley was left +sole executor; in fact, Edward's name was not so much as mentioned in +it. + +"Have you been calling on my aunt, Mr. Wheatley?" + +"No, my visit was to you," he answered, as he turned indoors with her. + +"I have been to see Dick and Leo," she explained. "My aunt thought I +ought not to go out so soon; that people might remark upon it. But I +am glad I went, poor boys!" + +"People remark upon it!" echoed Mr. Wheatley. "I should like to hear +them. What is there to remark upon in that? Miss Sara, I have gone +through life just doing the thing I pleased according to my own +notions of right, without reference to what other folks might think, +and I have found it answer. You do the same, and never fear." + +She led the way into the dining-room and closed the door. She +understood he wished to speak with her. The fire was burning itself +out to an empty room, Miss Davenal being upstairs. Ah, how changed the +house was only in the short week or two! It would never more be alive +with the tread of patients coming to consult Dr. Davenal; never more +be cheered with his voice echoing through the corridors. The +dwelling's occupation, like Roger's, had gone. + +Mr. Wheatley sat down in the chair that had once been the doctor's, +and Sara untied her bonnet-strings, and took a seat near him. The +fresh newspapers, not unfolded, lay on the table as of yore: the +whilom readers of them, the waiting sick, had ceased their visits for +ever. + +"Now, Miss Sara, I'm left sole executor to this will, as you heard +read out yesterday," he began. "It states--I daresay you noted +it--that things were to be disposed of with all convenient dispatch. +Did you observe that clause?" + +"Yes." + +"Very good. Besides that, in the last interview I held with my +poor friend--it was the afternoon of the day he died, as you may +remember--he enjoined the same thing upon me; no delay. There was a +necessity, he said, for your being put in possession of the money as +soon as possible." Sara had no ready answer at hand. She believed +there might be that necessity, but did not like to acknowledge it. She +took off her bonnet, and laid it beside her on the table, as if at a +loss for something to do. + +"Now I don't want to inquire into reasons and motives," went on Mr. +Wheatley. "I'd rather not inquire into them or hear them; what your +father did not see fit to tell me, I'd prefer that nobody else should +tell me. I am sure of one thing: that he kept it from me either cut of +necessity or to spare me pain. That things had not gone very straight +with him, he told me; and that, coupled with the curious will, leaving +everything to you without the protection of trustees or else, does of +course force me to see that there's something behind the scenes. But +while I admit so much, I repeat that I do not speculate upon what it +may be, even in my own mind; nor do I wish to do so. One question I +must ask you--were you in your father's confidence?" + +"Yes. At least, if not quite entirely, sufficiently so to carry out +all his directions and wishes. But, indeed, I may say I was in his +confidence," she added with less hesitation. "He talked to me a great +deal the night of his death." + +"And you will be at no loss what to do with the money that shall be +realised." + +"None." + +"That's all straight, then, and I know how to set to work. My dear, it +was necessary that I should just say so far, for it would not have +been well for us to work at cross-purposes, and I am sure you do not +misunderstand me. There's something behind which is no more your +secret than it is mine; it was the doctor's; and we need not further +allude to it. I'll carry out his will, and you'll carry out his wishes +afterwards: he hinted to me that the money would have an ulterior +destination. Any suggestion you may have to make to me, you will now +do with more ease than if you had supposed I was under the impression +that the money was only going to you. Don't you think it was better +that I should speak?" + +"Indeed it was, and I thank you." + +"Well, now to business. As I understand it, there's a necessity, +perhaps an imperative one--in fact, the doctor told me so, for +immediate action. The first consideration then is, when shall you be +prepared to leave the house? Measures will be taken to put it up for +sale, and there's not the least doubt of its finding a ready +purchaser, for it's one of the best houses in Hallingham, and in its +best part. That will be easy. The next thing will be the sale of the +effects. Of course the sooner you leave the house, the sooner they can +be sold." It quite wrung her heart to hear him speak of all this in +the dry tone of a man of business. She did what she could to bring her +mind to bear it equably, heedless of the pain. + +"It depends upon my aunt, Mr. Wheatley. So far as I am concerned I +could be out in a few days; but she will have her home to fix upon. I +had better speak to her. Papa said, when he was dying, that he thought +Mark Cray ought to leave the Abbey and come here." + +"Mark Cray! Well, he has the most right to do so: he was your father's +partner. I never thought of him. Of course he will; _he'll_ not let it +slip through his fingers. The mere taking this house would be a +certain practice for any one. Mark Cray has his practice ready cut and +dried to his hand, but he'll not let the house go by him." + +"Mr. Cray has just furnished the Abbey." + +"But perhaps he--however, it will be well that somebody should see +him, and ascertain what his wishes may be. It is a pity but he had +money: he might purchase the house. By the way, there's that Chancery +money come or coming to his wife." + +Sara shook her head. "That money is to be settled upon her. It was one +of papa's last injunctions." + +"Well; and how can that be better done than by buying freehold +property, such as this? It will be the very thing for them, I should +say. Let them buy this house and settle it upon her; it will be a +capital investment. As to the furniture, if they don't care to buy +that, it must be sold. Suppose you ask Miss Davenal when she shall be +ready to vacate it; and meanwhile I'll see Mr. Cray." + +He was a man of prompt action, this old friend of Dr. Davenal's, and +he rose as he spoke, shook hands with Sara, and bustled out so hastily +that even attentive Neal did not catch him up in time to close the +hall-door behind him. Sara supposed he was going then and there to +Mark Cray's. + +She took her bonnet in her hand and went slowly up the stairs. It was +not a pleasant task, this question that she had to put to her aunt, +and she was glad of the little delay of even turning first into her +own room to take her things off after her journey. Since the reading +of the will yesterday Miss Davenal had been in one of her most +chilling moods. She had asked an explanation of Sara what was the +meaning of all this, what Dr. Davenal's secret was, and where the +money had gone to. Sara could only evasively put her off; one of the +charges enjoined on his daughter by the doctor had been--not to place +Edward in the power of his aunt. + +It was not that Dr. Davenal feared the loyalty and good faith of his +sister; but he knew how bitterly she would judge Edward, and he was +willing to spare blame even to his guilty son. It is possible, also, +that he deemed the secret safest left to Sara alone. Whatever his +motive, he had said to her: "I charge you, keep it from your aunt +Bettina;" and Sara had accepted the charge, and meant to act upon it. +But Dr. Davenal might never have left it, had he foreseen the +unpleasantness it entailed on Sara. + +Very curious, very cross, very deaf was Bettina Davenal, as she sat in +the drawing-room at her usual occupation, knitting. Her clinging +mourning robes made her figure appear thinner and taller; and that, as +you are aware, need not have been. She had seen from the window Sara +come in, and she now thought she heard her footfall on the stairs; and +her neck was thrown more upright than ever, and her lips were +ominously compressed. It was this general displeasure which had +chiefly caused the objection she made to Sara's visiting the boys. +Sara had gone, defying her; at least, she looked upon it in that +light. Was she about to defy her in all things? + +She just looked up when Sara entered the room, and then dropped her +eyelids again, never speaking. Sara stood near the window, her bead +shaded by the half-drawn blind. + +"Well, I have been, aunt." + +"Been?" grunted Miss Bettina. "Not anywhere. Where do you suppose I +have been? I know propriety better than to be seen streaming abroad +today." + +Sara drew a chair to the little table on which lay her aunt's pearl +basket of wool, and sat down close to her. Her pale refined face was +ominously severe, and Sara's heart seemed to faint at her task. Not at +this one particular task before her, but at the heavy task altogether +that her life had become. It was not by fainting, however, that she +would get through it, neither was it the line of action she had carved +out for herself. + +"I observed that I had been to see the boys, Aunt Bettina. They both +send their love to you." + +"I daresay they do. Especially that impudent Dick." + +"Mrs. Keen also desired to be remembered," continued Sara. + +"You can send back my thanks for the honour," ironically spoke Miss +Davenal. "The last time she was at Hallingham she passed our house +without calling." + +"She spoke of it today, Aunt Bettina. She nodded to you at the window, +she said, and pointed towards the station: she wished you to +understand that she was pressed for time." + +Aunt Bettina made no answer. She was knitting vehemently. Apparently +Sara was not getting on very well. + +"Mr. Wheatley has been here, aunt." + +"You need not tell it me. He has been dodging in and out like a dog in +a fair. Anybody but he might have respected the quiet of the house on +the very day after its poor master had been taken from it. He came in +and went out again, and then came in again--with you. As he _had_ +come, he might have been polite enough to ask for me. Neal said he +wanted you. Early times, I think, to begin showing people you are the +house's mistress!" + +It was not a promising commencement. Sara could only apply herself to +her task in all deprecating meekness. + +"Aunt Bettina, he came to speak about the future. I daresay he thought +you would not like to be intruded upon today, for he wished me to talk +things over with you. He was asking when we--you--when we should be +ready to vacate the house." + +"To do what?" she repeated shrilly. But she heard very well, Sara was +close to her and speaking in low clear tones. + +"When we shall be ready to leave the house?" + +"Had he not better turn us out of it today?" was the retort of the +angry lady. "How dare he show this indecent haste?" + +"Oh, aunt! You know it is only in accordance with papa's will that he +has to do it. You heard it read. You read it to yourself afterwards." + +"Yes, I did read it to myself afterwards: I could not believe that my +brother Richard would have made such a will, and I chose to satisfy +myself by reading it. Everything to be sold, indeed; as if we were so +many bankrupts? Hold your tongue, Sara! Do you think I don't grieve +for the loss of the best brother that ever stepped! But there are +matters a-gate that I don't understand." + +"There's a necessity for the things being sold, Aunt Bettina." + +"He told me so before he died: _you_ need not repeat it to me. Where's +the money to be paid to?" + +"And therefore Mr. Wheatley is desirous that there should be no +unnecessary delay," Sara continued, a faint colour tinging her cheek +at the consciousness of evading her aunt's question. "He does not ask +us to go out at once, Aunt Bettina: he only wishes to know when we +shall be ready to go out." + +"Then tell him from me that _I_ will be no hindrance," retorted +Miss Bettina, her temper rising. "Tomorrow--the next day--the day +after--any day he pleases, now, or in a month to come. I can get a +lodging at an hour's notice." + +"Aunt, _why_ are you so angry with me?" + +The burst came from her in her pain and vexation. She could not help +feeling how unjust it was to cast this anger upon her; how little she +had done to deserve it Miss Bettina knitted on more fiercely, +declining an answer. + +"It is not my fault, aunt. If you knew--if you knew what I have to +bear!" + +"It _is_ your fault, Sara Davenal. What I complain of is your fault. +You are keeping this secret from me. I don't complain that they are +going to sell the chairs and tables: Richard has willed it so, and +there's no help for it: but I don't like to be kept in the dark as to +the reason, or where the money is to go. Why don't you tell it me?" + +It was a painful position for Sara. She had always been dutiful and +submissive to her aunt: far more so than her brothers or Caroline had +been. + +"Aunt Bettina, I cannot tell you. I wish I could." + +"Do you mean to imply that you do not know it." + +"No, I don't mean that. I do know it. At least, I know it partially. +Papa did not tell me quite all." + +Miss Bettina's usually placid chest was heaving with indignation. "And +why could he not tell me, instead of you! I think I am more fit to be +the depositary of a disgraceful secret than you are, a child! And I +expect it is a disgraceful one." + +Ah, _how_ disgraceful Sara knew only too well. She sat in silence, not +daring to acknowledge it, not knowing what to answer. + +"Once for all--will you confide it to me?" + +Sara believed, as it had come to this, that it would be better if she +could confide it to her; but the injunction of Dr. Davenal was a bar; +and that she felt it her duty religiously to obey. In her deep love +for her father she would not cast the onus of refusal upon him, +preferring to let it rest on herself. + +"Believe me, aunt, I _cannot_ tell you. I am very sorry; I wish I did +not know it myself. It--it was papa's secret, and I must not tell it." + +In the twitching of her hands Miss Bettina contrived to throw down the +ball of wool. Sara picked it up, glad of the little interlude. + +"Aunt Bettina, we could not have stayed on in this large house." + +"Did I say we could?" asked Miss Bettina. "Not now, when all your +money's gone in ducks and drakes." + +"Papa--papa could not _help_ the money going," she returned, her heart +swelling in the eager wish to defend him. "He could not help it, Aunt +Bettina." + +"I am not saying that he could. I am not casting reproach on him. It +is not to be supposed, had he been able to help it, that he would have +let it go. How touchy you are!" + +A silence, and then Sara began. She mentioned what Mr. Wheatley had +said, that the house might be a good investment for the money of +Caroline; and Miss Bettina, not at all a bad woman of business, was +struck with the suggestion. She sat revolving it in silence, +apparently only intent on her knitting. She supposed it could be so +settled on Mark's wife, but she did not understand much of what the +law might be. The thought struck her that this ought to be seen about +at once. + +"Mr. Wheatley thinks it would be so much better if these things could +be taken too by whoever succeeds to the house," proceeded Sara. "So as +to avoid a public auction." + +Now that was one of the sore points troubling Miss Davenal--the +prospect of selling the things by public auction. She had a most +inveterate hatred to any such step, looking upon all sales of +furniture, no matter what the cause of sale, as a humiliation. Hence +the motive which had induced her to warehouse her handsome furniture +instead of selling it, when, years ago, she gave up housekeeping to +take up her abode at Dr. Davenal's. + +"Others knew that, before Mr. Wheatley," she said ungraciously. "A +public auction in this house! I would not stop in the town to see it. +Has old Wheatley spoken to Mark!" + +"It struck me he was going to Mark's when he left here," replied Sara. +"I am not sure." + +Miss Davenal grunted as she went on with her knitting. She herself +always liked to be "sure:" so far as her deafness allowed her. Turning +to glance at the timepiece, she crossed the room and opened the door. +There stood Neal. + +Neal at his eaves-dropping, of course. And the black robes of his +mistress were so soft, her footfall so noiseless on the rich carpet, +that Neal's ear for once failed him. But he was not one to allow +himself to be caught. He had the coal-box in his hand, and was +apparently stooping to pick up a bit of coal that had fallen on the +ground. Miss Davenal would as soon have suspected herself capable of +listening at doors, as that estimable servant Neal. + +"Let the dinner be on the table to the moment, Neal," were her orders. +"And I shall want you to attend me abroad afterwards." + +"Are you going out, Aunt Bettina?" Sara ventured to inquire. + +"Yes, I am," was the sharp answer. "But not until the shades of night +shall be upon the streets." + +Sara understood the covert reproach. Her aunt's manners towards her +had settled into a cold, chilling reserve. Sara wondered if they would +ever thaw again. + +Miss Davenal made her dinner deliberately: she never hurried over +anything: and went out afterwards on foot, attended by Neal. Sara +judged that she was going to the Abbey, but she did not dare to ask. +She, Sara, went to the drawing-room, from old custom; shivering as she +stepped up the wide staircase: not from cold, but from the loneliness +that seemed to pervade the house. She had not got over that sense of +strange nameless dread which the presence of the dead imparts and +leaves behind it. The drawing-room was lighted as usual: no alteration +had been made in the habits of the house; but as Sara glanced round +its space, a nervous superstition began to creep over her. Perhaps the +bravest of us have at times experienced such. A moment after, Watton +appeared showing in a visitor: Mr. Oswald Cray. + +Every pulse of her body stood still, and then bounded onwards; every +thrill of her heart went out to him in a joyous greeting. In this +dreadful sorrow and sadness he had but been growing all the dearer. + +He was still in deep mourning for Lady Oswald. He looked taller, +finer, more noble than of yore, or she fancied it, as he bent a little +to her and took her hand, and kept it. He saw the quiver of the slight +frame; he saw the red rose that dyed the pale cheeks with blushes, and +Mr. Oswald Cray knew that he was not forgotten by her, any more than +she was by him. But he knew also that both of them had only one thing +to do--to bury these feelings now, to condemn them to oblivion for the +future. The daughter of Dr. Davenal dead could be no more a wife for +him, Oswald Cray, than the daughter of Dr. Davenal living, and most +certainly he was the last man to be betrayed into forgetting that +uncompromising fact. + +The rose-blush faded away, and he saw how weak and worn was her cheek; +young, fragile, almost childish she looked in her evening dress of +black, the jet chain on her white shoulders. Insensibly his voice +assumed a tenderness rarely used to her, as he apologised for calling +at that hour: but he was only passing through the town and would leave +it again that night. "I see how it is;" he cried, "you are suffering +more than is good for you." + +But for the very greatest effort, the tears she had believed to have +put under permanent control would have dropped then. A moment's pause +for calmness, and she remembered that her hand was lying in his, +withdrew it, and sat down quietly in a chair, pointing to one for him. +But the forced calmness brought a sickness to her heart, a pallor to +her aching brow. + +"How shall I tell you of my sympathy in your deep sorrow? I cannot +express it; but you will believe me when I say that I feel it almost +as you can do. It is indeed a trying time for you; a grief which has +come to you all too early." + +"Yes," she gently answered, swallowing the lump that kept rising in +her throat. "I have a good deal to bear." + +"There is only one comfort to be felt at these times--and that the +mourner can but rarely feel," he said, drawing his chair near to her. +"It lies in the knowledge, the recollection, that Time, the great +healer, will bind up the sorest wounds." + +"It can never bind up mine," she said, speaking in the moment's +impulse. "But you are very kind; you are very kind to try to cheer +me." + +"I wish I could cheer you, I wish I could remove every sorrow under +which you suffer! No one living would be a truer friend to you than I +should like to be. How is Miss Davenal?" he continued, possibly +fancying he might be saying too much, or at least that a construction +he never intended might appear to belong to his words. "Watton said +she was out. I suppose, in point of fact, she will not see me tonight. +I know what war I wage with etiquette in being here so soon, and at +this hour, and Miss Davenal is a close observer of it. Will you +forgive me?" + +"Indeed I am glad to see you," said Sara, simply. "I am doubly glad, +for I feel almost ashamed to confess I was getting too nervous to be +alone. My aunt is out; she went to the Abbey as soon as dinner was +over. I am glad to see you thus early," she added, "because I have a +word to say to you from--from papa." + +"Yes," said Oswald, lifting his head with slight eagerness, an unusual +thing for him to do. + +"In the letter he wrote to you, and which I sent--the letter you +received," she continued, looking at him and pausing. + +"Yes?" + +"He spoke of Mrs. Cray's money in it, as he told me. He wished you to +interest yourself and see that it was settled upon her. When he wrote +that letter he was almost past exertion, and had to conclude it +abruptly, not having said so much as he wished to say. Therefore he +enjoined me to urge it upon you from him. He thought--I believe he +thought that Mark Cray was inclined to be careless, and that the money +might be wasted unless some one interfered. That was all." + +"I shall speak to Mark. Most certainly I will urge the settlement of +the money on his wife, should there be occasion for it; but I imagine +Mark will naturally so settle it without any urging. It is quite +incumbent on him to do so, both as a matter of prudence and that it is +his wife's money, not his." + +"I don't think Mark has much notion of prudence," she rejoined. + +"I don't think he has, in a general way. But the most careless would +surely act in accordance with its dictates in a case like this. I am +going to tie Abbey presently." + +"I fancy that papa thought--or wished--that you would be one of the +trustees, should trustees be required." + +"I should have no objection," said Oswald, after a pause. "But--to go +to another subject, if you can bear me to touch upon it--was not Dr. +Davenal's death sudden at the last?" + +"Quite at the last it was. He had some days of dangerous illness, and +he rallied from it, as we all supposed. It was thought he was out of +danger, and he sat up: he sat up for several hours--and died." + +She spoke the words quietly, almost as she might have told of the +death of one not related to her, her hands clasped on her lap, her +face a little bent, her eyelids drooping. But Oswald Cray saw that it +was the calmness that proceeds from that stern schooling of the heart +which can only be enforced by those heavy-laden with hopeless pain. + +"He died sitting up?" + +"Yes. It was getting late, but he would not return to bed. He had been +talking to me about many things; I was on a low seat, my head leaning +against him. He died with his arm round me." + +"What a trial! What a shock it must have been!" + +"I had no idea he was dead. He ceased talking, and I remained quiet, +not to disturb him. My aunt Bettina came in, and saw what had +happened." + +He scarcely knew what to say in answer. All comments at such a time +are so grievously inadequate. He murmured some words of pity for the +fate of Dr. Davenal, of compassion for her. + +"It is Hallingham that deserves, perhaps, most of real pity," she +resumed, speaking in this matter-of-fact way that she might succeed in +retaining her composure. "I do not know who will replace my father: no +one, I fear, for a long while. If you knew how he is mourned----" + +She stopped, perhaps at a loss for words. + +"Did he suffer much?" asked Mr. Oswald Cray. + +"He suffered here"--touching her chest--"but the pain ceased the last +day or two, and the breathing got better. He had a great deal of pain +of mind--as--perhaps--you--know. He was quite resigned to die: he said +God was taking him to a better home." + +Still at cross-purposes. Sara's hesitating avowal pointed to a +different cause of mental pain from that assumed by Oswald Cray. + +"Yes," he at length said, abstractedly, for neither spoke for a few +minutes, "it is a loss to Hallingham. This will be sad news to write +to your brother." + +"It is already written. The mail has been gone a day or two. O yes! it +will be grievous news for Edward." + +The last two words were spoken in a tone of intense pain. She checked +it, and began talking of her aunt, of Caroline, of anything; almost as +if she doubted herself. She told him she had been out that day to see +the two little boys. At length he rose to leave. + +"Will you not stay and take some tea? I do not suppose my aunt will be +long." + +He declined. He seemed to have grown more cold and formal. Until he +took her hand in leaving, and then the tender tone of voice, the +pleasant look of the eye shone out again. + +"May Heaven be with you, Miss Davenal!--and render your future days +happier than they can be just now. Fare you well! I hope to hear good +news of you from time to time." + +Which was of course equivalent to saying that he should not be a +visitor. She had not expected that he would be. He turned back ere he +gained the door. + +"If I can be of service to you at any time or in anyway, I hope you +will not hesitate to command me. Nothing would give me so much +gratification as the being of use to you, should need arise." + +It was very polite, it was very kind, and at the same time very +formal. Perhaps the strangest part throughout the interview to Sara's +ears was that when he had called her "Miss Davenal," for it presented +so great a contrast to the past: the past which was at an end for +ever. + +He went out, shown through the hall by Jessy, and leaving his card on +the standing waiter for Miss Davenal. All _en règle_. And Sara in the +large drawing-room, so dreary now, remained on in her pain, alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. +MARK'S NEW PLANS. + + +In the dining-room at the Abbey, in her black robes, sat Mrs. Cray at +the head of her table, her elbow resting on it, and a pouting +expression on her pretty face. Mark was at the foot, gobbling down his +dinner with what haste he could. He had been detained so long beyond +the dinner hour that Mrs. Cray in despair had eaten hers; and when +Mark at length entered he found a cold face and a cold cutlet. Mrs. +Cray was beginning to tire of the irregularity. + +"I can't help it, Carine," he said, looking at her in a pause of his +eating. "My work has been nearly doubled, you know, since the doctor +died." + +"But it's very tiresome, Mark!" + +"It is. I am nearly sick of it." + +"It is not _doubled_, your work." + +"Well, no; one speaks at random. Some of the doctor's older patients +have left me: they think, I suppose, I am not sufficiently +experienced. But I have a great deal to do just now; more, in fact, +than I can attend to properly." + +Mark resumed his gobbling, and his wife watched him, her lips a little +relaxing. Caroline Cray was one of those who must have all things go +smoothly; she could not bear to be put out, even is trifles. + +"Mr. Wheatley has been here, Mark," she presently said. + +"What did he want?" + +"Well, he wanted to see you. Something about the selling of my uncle's +house." + +"He is losing no time," observed Mark, acrimony in his tone. "I wonder +he didn't begin about it yesterday when we were there, hearing the +will read. But what have I do with it?" + +"He wants us to take the house--to buy it, I think." + +"I daresay he does," retorted Mark, after a pause of surprise. +"Where's the money to come from?" + +"There's that money of mine. He said it would be a good investment." + +"Did he! I wonder what business it is of his! Carine, my dear, you and +I are quite capable of managing our own affairs, without being +dictated to." + +"Of course we are!" answered Carine, rather firing at the absent Mr. +Wheatley, as this new view was presented to her. + +Mark said no more just then. He finished his dinner, and had the +things taken away. Then, instead of sitting down to his wine, his +usual custom, he stood up on the hearth-rug, as though he were +cold--or restless. Mark Cray had been reared to extravagance in a +petted home, and looked for his wine daily, as surely as any old +alderman looks for it. Oswald Cray, reared without a home, and to +schoolboy fare, adhered still, in a general way, to the water to which +he had been trained. Oswald's plan was the most profitable, so far as +the pocket was concerned, and the health too. + +"I say, Carine, I want to go to London for a day." + +"To London?" echoed Carine, turning her chair to the fire, and facing +Mark. + +"There's the grandest opening: there's the grandest opening for a +fortune to be made there. And--Carine--I think I shall quit +Hallingham." Mrs. Cray's violet eyes extended themselves in the +extreme of wonder. She sat staring at him. + +"Caroline, I _hate_ the profession, and how I came ever to be such a +fool as to go into it I cannot understand," said Mark, throwing +himself on a chair as he plunged into confidence. "So long as the +doctor lived I could not well say anything about it; I did not see my +way clear to do so. But things have altered now, and I think I shall +give up the medical life." + +"But--good gracious, Mark!--I can't understand," exclaimed Caroline, +in her bewilderment. "If you give up your profession, you give up our +means of living. We can't starve." + +"Starve!" laughed Mark. "Can't you trust me better than that? Look +here, Caroline; let us come to figures. I don't suppose I should clear +at first above eight hundred a-year, or so, by the practice----" + +"O, Mark!" + +"Well, say a thousand for argument's sake. Let us assume that I net it +clear. It's a nice income, no doubt, but I shall make three times +that, if I go into the thing in London." + +Caroline, half doubting, half eager, all bewildered, sat waiting to +hear more. + +"There's a splendid opportunity offered me if I give up the medical +profession and embark altogether in a new line of life. I--you have +heard me speak of my old chum Barker, have you not?" he broke off to +ask. + +"Barker?" she repeated. "Yes, I think I remember the name. He got into +some dreadful trouble, did he not, and was sent to prison?" + +"Sent to prison! how you speak of things! All that's over and done +with. His friends were wretched screws, doing him out of money that +ought to have come to him, and the consequence was that Barker got +into the Queen's Bench. Half the gentlemen of England have been there +some time in their lives," added Mark, loftily, as if he were just +then deeming the thing an honour. "Well, Caroline, that was over long +ago, and Barker has now the most magnificent prospect before him that +one can well imagine; he will be making his thousands and thousands +a-year." + +"How is he going to make it?" asked Caroline. + +"And he has offered me a share in it," continued Mark, too eager to +attend to irreverent questions. "He is one who knows how to stand by +an old friend. _Thousands_ a-year, it will be." + +"But, Mark, I ask you how he is going to make it?" + +"It is connected with mines and pumping, and all that sort of thing," +lucidly explained Mark. + +"Mines and pumping!" + +"Caroline, dear, you cannot be expected to understand these things. +_Enormous_ fortunes are being made at them," continued Mark, in a +rapture. "Some of the mines yield fifty thousand pounds profit the +first year of working. I declare when I first heard of Barker's +prospects I was fit to eat my fingers off, feeling that I was tied +down to be a paltry pitiful country surgeon. Folks go ahead nowadays, +Caroline. And, as Barker has generously come forward with the offer +that I should join him, I think I ought to accept it in justice to +you. My share the first year would be about three thousand, he +computes." + +"But, Mark, do you mean to say that Mr. Barker has offered you three +thousand a-year for nothing? I don't comprehend it at all." + +"Not for nothing. I should give my services, and I should have to +advance a certain sum at the onset. Talk about an investment for your +money, Caroline, what investment would be equal to this?" + +The words startled her for the moment. "I promised poor Uncle Richard +that the money should be settled upon me, Mark. He said he urged it as +much for your sake as mine." + +"Of course," said Mark, with acquiescent suavity. "Where there's +nothing better to do with money it always ought to be so settled. But +only look at this opening! Were your uncle Richard in life, he would +be the first to advise the investment of the money in it. Such chances +don't happen every day. Caroline, I can't and I won't humdrum on here, +buried alive and worked to death, when I may take my place in the +London world, a wealthy man, looked up to by society. In your +interest, I will not." + +"Are the mines in London?" asked Caroline. + +"Good gracious, no! But the office is, where all the money +transactions are carried on." + +"And it is quite a sure thing, Mark?" + +"It's as sure as the Bank of England. It wants a little capital to set +it going, that's all. And that capital can be supplied by your money, +Caroline, if you will agree to it. Hundreds of people would jump at +the chance." + +An utter tyro in business matters, in the ways of a needy world, +imbued with unbounded faith in her husband, Caroline Cray took all in +with eager and credulous ears. Little more than a child, she could be +as easily persuaded as one, and she became as anxious to realise the +good luck as Mark. + +"Yes, I should think it is what my uncle would advise were he alive," +she said. "And where should we live, Mark?" + +"We'd live at the West End, Carine; somewhere about Hyde Park. You +should have your open and close carriages, and your saddle-horses and +servants--everything as it ought to be. No end of good things may be +enjoyed with three thousand a-year." + +"Would it stop at three thousand, Mark?" she questioned, with +sparkling eyes. + +"I don't expect it would stop at twenty," coolly asserted Mark. "How +far it would really go on to, I'm afraid to guess. In saying three +thousand, I have taken quite the minimum of the first year's profits." + +"O Mark! don't let it escape you. Write tonight and secure it. How do +you know but Barker may be giving it to somebody else?" + +She was growing more eager than he. In her inexperience, she knew +nothing of those miserable calamities--failure, deceit, fruition +deferred. Not that her husband was purposely deceiving her; he fully +believed in the good luck he spoke of. Mark Cray's was one of those +sanguine roving natures which see an immediate fortune in every new +scheme brought to them--if it be only wild enough. + +"How long have you known of this, Mark!" + +"Oh, a month or two. But, as you see, I would not stir in it. I should +like to run up to town for a day to meet Barker; and, on my return, +we'd set about the arrangements for leaving. There will be no more +lonely dinners for you, Carine, once we are away from here. I shall +not have to be beating about, all hours and weathers, from one +patient's door to another, or dancing attendance on that precious +Infirmary, knowing that you are sitting at home waiting for me, and +the meal getting cold." + +"O Mark, how delightful it will be! And perhaps you would never have +risen into note, as my uncle did." + +"No, I never should. Dr. Davenal's heart was in his profession, +mine--" + +Mark Cray stopped abruptly. The avowal upon his lips had been, "mine +recoils from it." + +It was even so. He did literally recoil from his chosen profession. +Unstable in all his ways, Mark had become heartily sick of the routine +of a surgeon's life. And since the affair of Lady Oswald a conviction +had been gradually taking possession of him that he was entirely +unfitted for it; nay, that he was incompetent To betray his +incompetency, would be to lose caste for ever in the medical world of +Hallingham. + +Mark Cray rose from his chair again, and stood on the rug as before, +pushing back his hair from his brow incessantly in the restlessness +that was upon him. He was always restless when he thought of that past +night; or of the certainty that he might at any time be called upon to +perform again what he had failed in then. It was not altogether his +skill he doubted, for Mark Cray was a vain and self-sufficient man; +but he felt that the very-present consciousness of having broken down +before would induce a nervousness that might cause him to break down +again. Had it been practicable, Mark Cray would have taken flight from +Hallingham and the medical world that very hour, and hid himself away +from it for ever. + +"It has become _hateful_ to me, Carine!" + +The words burst from him in the fulness of his thoughts. Both had been +silent for some minutes, and they sounded quite startling in their +vehemence. Mrs. Cray looked up at him. + +"What do you mean, Mark? What has? The getting your meals so +irregularly?" + +"Yes;" said Mark, evasively. He did not choose to say that it was his +profession which had become hateful to him, lest Mrs. Cray might +inquire too closely why. + +And, besides all this, had Mark been ever so successful in his +practice, the vista opened to him of unlimited wealth (and he really +so regarded it) might have turned a steadier head than his. His friend +Barker had been Mark's "chum" (you are indebted to Mark for the +epithet) at Guy's Hospital, and the intimacy had lasted longer than +such formed intimacies generally do last. Mr. Barker was of the same +stamp as Mark--hence, perhaps, the duration of the friendship; he had +practised as a surgeon for a year or two, and then found it "too +slow," and had tried his hand at something else. He had been trying +his hand at something else and something else ever since, and somehow +the things had dropped through one after the other with various +degrees of failure, one degree of which had been to land Mr. Barker +within the friendly walls of a debtor's prison. But he had come on his +legs again; such men generally do; and he was now in high feather as +the promoter of a grand mining company. It was this he had invited +Mark to embark in; he wrote him the most glowing accounts of the +fabulous sums of money to be realised at it; he believed in them +himself; he was, I have said, exactly the same sort of man as Mark. + +One little drawback had recently presented itself to Barker: a want of +ready money. Mark, in his eagerness, offered the sum coming to his +wife from the Chancery suit; they were expecting it to be paid over +daily; and Mr. Barker was in raptures, and painted his pictures of the +future in colours gorgeous as those of a Claude Lorraine. Caroline +might have felt a little startled had she known Mark had already +promised the money without so much as consulting her. But Mark had +chosen to take his own time to consult her, and Mark was doing it now. +Perhaps he had felt it might be more decent to let poor Dr. Davenal be +put under the ground before he spoke of applying the money in a way so +diametrically opposed to his last wishes. + +He drew a letter from his pocket, one received that morning, and read +out its glowing promises. Mr. Barker was evidently fervent in his +belief of the future. Caroline listened as in a joyous dream. The +imaginary scene then dancing before her eyes of their future greatness +rivalled any of the scenes of fairyland. + +"You see," said Mark, "Barker----who's that?" + +The entrance of a visitor into the hall had caused the interruption. +Caroline bent her ear to listen. + +"It is Aunt Bettina!" she exclaimed. "I am sure it is her voice, Mark. +Whatever brings her here tonight?" + +Mark crunched the letter into his pocket again. "Mind, Caroline, not a +word of this to her!" he exclaimed, laying his hand on his wife as she +was rising. "It is not quite ready to be talked of yet." Miss Davenal +entered at once upon the subject which had brought her--their quitting +the Abbey for the other house. Mark understood she had come, as it +were, officially; to fix time and place and means; and he had no +resource but to tell her that he did not intend to enter upon it; did +not intend to embark Caroline's money in any such purpose; did not, in +fact, intend to remain in Hallingham. + +There ensued a battle: it was nothing else. What with Miss Davenal's +indignation and what with Miss Davenal's deafness, the wordy war that +supervened could be called little else. Caroline sat pretty quiet at +first, taking her husband's side now and then. + +"You tell me you are going to leave Hallingham, and you won't tell me +where you are going, or what you are going to do, Mark Cray!" +reiterated Miss Davenal. + +"I'll tell you more about it when I know more myself." + +"But you can tell me what it is; you can tell me where it is. Is it at +one of the London hospitals?" + +"It is in London," was Mark's answer, allowing the hospital to be +assumed. + +"Then Mark Cray you are very wicked. And you"--turning to +Caroline--"are foolish to uphold him in it. How can you think of +giving up such a practice as this?" + +"I am tired of Hallingham," avowed Mark with blunt truth, for he was +getting vexed. + +"You are--what?" cried Miss Davenal, not catching the words. + +"Sick and tired of Hallingham. And I don't care who knows it." + +Miss Davenal looked at him with some curiosity. "Is he gone out of his +senses, Caroline?" + +"I am tired of Hallingham, too, aunt," said Caroline, audaciously. "I +want to live in London." + +"And the long and the short of it is, that we mean to live in London, +Miss Bettina," avowed Mark. "There. I don't care that my talents +should be buried in a poking country place any longer." + +She looked from one to the other of them; she could not take it in. +Sharp anger was rendering her ears somewhat more open than usual. + +"Buried!--a poking country place! And what of the twelve or fifteen +hundred a-year practice that you would lightly throw away, Mark Cray?" + +"Oh, I shall do better than that in London. I have got a post offered +me worth double that." + +She paused a few moments. "And what; are you to give for it?" + +"Never mind that," said Mark. + +"Yes, never mind that," rejoined Miss Bettina in a tone of bitter +sarcasm. "When it comes to details, you can take refuge in 'never +mind.' Do you suppose such posts are given away for nothing, Mark +Cray? Who has been befooling you?" + +"But it will not be given for nothing," cried Caroline, betrayed to +the injudicious avowal by the partizanship of her husband. "The money +that is coining to me will be devoted to it." + +This was the climax. Miss Bettina Davenal was very wroth; wroth +however, more in sorrow than in anger. In vain she strove to sift the +affair to the bottom; Mark baffled her questions, baffled her +indignant curiosity, and--it must be confessed--his wife helped him. + +She--Miss Bettina--turned away in the midst of the storm. She took up +her black gloves, the only article of attire that she had removed, and +drew them on her trembling hands. In the shaking of the hands alone +did Bettina Davenal ever betray emotion: those firm, white, rather +bony hands, usually so still and self-possessed. + +"Marcus Cray, as surely as that you are standing now before me, you +will rue this work if you carry it out. When that day shall come, I +beg you--I beg _you_, Caroline--to remember that I warned you of it." + +She passed out without another word, and stalked down the lighted +street, uncomfortably upright, Neal behind her with his ginger tread. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +IS MARK IN HIS SENSES? + + +Midway between the Abbey and her own home--it was in the corner just +before coining to the market-place--Miss Davenal encountered Mr. +Oswald Cray. + +"Is Mark in his senses?" was her abrupt greeting to him, as he lifted +his hat. + +"What is the matter with him?--What is he doing?" asked Oswald, all in +wonder. + +Miss Davenal paused. Either she did not hear the question or she took +time to recover herself to reply to it. Her face was very pale, her +cold grey eyes glittered like steel in the lamplight. + +"My poor brother has died young, and left this valuable practice in +Mark's hands. There are not many like unto it. The house is ready to +be offered to him: altogether, the career spreading out before him is +a fine one. And he is talking of throwing it up. He is going to fling +it from him as a child flings a pebble away into the sea. He says he +shall quit Hallingham." + +"Quit Hallingham!" repeated Oswald Cray, the last words of what she +said alone making their full impression on him in his bewildered +surprise. "Mark says he shall quit Hallingham?" + +"He has some wild-goose scheme in his head of setting up in practice +in London," said Miss Davenal, speaking in accordance with the notion +she had erroneously assumed. "It is something he is about to purchase. +He is going to purchase it with that money of Caroline's. But he has +as surely lost his senses as that we are here." + +"I cannot understand it," said Oswald. "No man in his senses would +abandon such a practice as this." + +"Just so. But I tell you he is not in his senses: he cannot be. I do +not understand it any more than you. Perhaps you will see him?" + +"I will. I am going there now. I have been calling at your house, Miss +Davenal. Now that I have met you, will you let me express my deep +sympathy in your sorrow for the loss you have sustained." + +"Thank you, sir. It has been the greatest blow I could have +experienced, and if I have not shown it much outwardly--for it is not +in my nature to show such--it has done its work on my heart There are +few men who could not have been spared in Hallingham, whether to the +town or to his family, better than Dr. Davenal." + +"It is frequently the case," said Oswald, half abstractedly, "that +those whom we think we could the least spare, are taken. Fare you +well, Miss Davenal." Oswald Cray strode on to the Abbey, the strange +news puzzling him much. He did not take Mark at a disadvantage, as +Miss Davenal had done. When he entered, Mark was all cool and easy, +having had time to collect his wits and resolve on his course of +action. That course was, not to open his lips about the scheme on hand +to any other living mortal until it was ripe and ready to be acted +upon. Miss Davenal's communication to Oswald rendered this somewhat +difficult, but Mark did not stand on an evasion or two. + +He was exceedingly surprised to see Oswald, not knowing that he was at +Hallingham, and Caroline gave a little scream when he came in, in her +pretty and somewhat affected manner. Oswald explained that he had not +come from London, but from another part of the country, and had +alighted at Hallingham for two or three hours only as he passed +through it. He then entered upon the strange news just communicated to +him. + +But Mark had his answer to it ready at hand. He talked in a mocking +tone about "busybodies," he ridiculed Miss Davenal's deafness, saying +that she generally heard things "double:" altogether, he contrived to +blind Oswald, to convince him that the whole thing was a fable; or, +rather, a mistake, partly arising from Miss Davenal's infirmity, +partly from a desire on his own part to "chaff" her for her +interference. How Mark Cray reconciled this to his sense of honour, +let him answer. + +And Oswald, perfectly truthful himself, never doubted his +half-brother. But he did not wholly quit the topic. He spoke of the +few words written to him by Dr. Davenal when he was dying, and their +purport--that he, Oswald, should urge the settlement of Mrs. Cray's +own money upon her. Though of course, Oswald added, there was no +necessity for him to do so: Mark would naturally see for himself that +it was the only thing to be done with it. + +Of course he saw it, testily answered Mark, who was growing cross. + +"I cannot think how Miss Davenal could have misunderstood you as she +did," proceeded Oswald. "She actually said that this money of Mrs. +Cray's was to be applied to the purchase of the new thing in London in +which you were proposing to embark." + +"Did she!" returned Mark, in a tone that one impudent schoolboy +retorts upon another. "I do wonder, Oswald, that you should listen to +the rubbish picked up by a deaf woman!" + +"The wonder is, how she could pick it up," returned Oswald. "But I am +heartily glad it is not so. Miss Davenal assumed that you must be out +of your senses, Mark," he added, a smile crossing his lips: "I fear I +must have arrived at the same conclusion had you really been +entertaining the notion of quitting Hallingham and throwing up such a +practice as this." + +"I wish to goodness people would mind their own business!" exclaimed +Mark, who was losing his good manners in his vexation. The +communication to his wife of his new scheme had been so smoothly +accomplished, that the sudden interruption of Miss Davenal and now of +Oswald Cray seemed all too like a checkmate; and Mark felt as a stag +driven to bay. "I am old enough to regulate my own affairs without +Miss Davenal," he continued, "and I want none of her interference." + +Oswald did not speak. + +"And, what's more, I won't stand it," resumed Mark; "either from her +or from any one. There! And, Oswald, I hope you will excuse my saying +it although you are my elder brother and may deem you have a right to +dictate to me." + +"The right to advise _as a friend_ only, Mark," was the reply, +somewhat pointedly spoken. "Never to dictate." + +Mark growled. + +"With Dr. Davenal's valuable practice before you, Mark, it may appear +to you quite a superfluous precaution to secure the money to your wife +and children," persisted Oswald. "But the chances and changes of life +are so great, overwhelming families when least expected, that it +behoves us all to guard those we love against them, as far as we have +the power." + +"Do you suppose I should not do the best for my wife that I can do?" +asked Mark. "She knows I would. Be at ease, Oswald," he added in an +easy tone, of which Oswald detected not the banter, "when Caroline's +money shall be paid over, I'll send you notice of it. Talking of +money, don't you think the doctor made a strange will?" + +"I have not heard anything about his will," replied Oswald. "He has +died very well off, I suppose?" + +"We don't think that he has died well off," interposed Caroline. "I +and Mark can't quite make it out, and they do not treat us with much +confidence in the matter. Whatever there is, is left to Sara." + +"To Sara?" + +"Every stick and stone," returned Caroline, her cheeks assuming that +lovely colour that excitement was apt to bring to them, and which, to +a practised eye, might have suggested a suspicion of something not +sound in the constitution. "All the property he died possessed of is +to be sold, even to the household furniture; and the money realised +from it goes to Sara." + +"And the son--Captain Davenal?" + +"There's nothing left to him; not a penny-piece. His name is not so +much as mentioned in the will." + +Oswald looked as though he could not believe it. He had thought that, +of all men, Dr. Davenal would have been incapable of making an unjust +will. + +"Look here, Oswald," interrupted Mark, speaking in that half-whispered +tone that is so suggestive of mystery, "there's something under all +this that we can't fathom. Caroline overheard some words dropped by +Miss Davenal to the effect that Sara was left dependent upon her, +quite entirely dependent----" + +"But how can that be?" interrupted Oswald. "Have you not just said +that the whole property is willed to her?" + +"True: but Miss Davenal did say it. It is all queer together," +concluded Mark. "Why should he have willed it all to Sara, excluding +Edward?--And why should Miss Davenal assert, as she did, that Sara +would be penniless, and must have a home with herself? I am sure I and +Caroline don't want their confidence," continued Mark, in a tone of +resentment that was sufficient to betray he did want it. "But I say +it's a queer will altogether. Nothing left to Edward, when it's well +known the doctor loved him as the apple of his eye! Every sixpence +that can be realised by the sales is to go to Sara; to be paid into +her hands absolutely, without the security of trustees, or guardian, +or anything. But as to his having died the wealthy man that he was +thought to be, it is quite a mistake. So far as we can make out, there +was no money laid by at all." + +Oswald did not care to pursue the theme. The disposal of Dr. Davenal's +property was nothing to him; and if he could not help a suspicion +crossing his mind as to how the laid-by gains of years had been spent, +it was certainly not his intention to enlighten his brother Marcus. +Neal had hinted at hush-money months ago, and the hint was haunting +Oswald now. + +"Was it not a sudden death at the last?" exclaimed Caroline. + +"Very," said Oswald, "It must have been a sad shock for you all. I am +sure your cousin feels it much." + +"Sara? Well, I don't know. I don't think she feels it more than I do. +She seems as still and calm as a statue. She never shed a tear +yesterday when the will was being read: and I am sure she listened to +it. _I_ never heard a word for my sobs." + +But for the melancholy subject, Oswald would have smiled at Caroline's +faith in her own depth of grief. She had yet to learn the signs of +real sorrow. + +"She is not demonstrative, I think," he observed, alluding to Sara. + +"She never was," returned Caroline: "and therefore I argue that there +can be no real feeling. I have gone into hysterics ten times since the +death, only thinking of it, as Mark knows; and I question if anybody +has so much as seen Sara cry. I said to her yesterday, 'How collected +you are! how you seem to think of everything for the future!' 'Yes,' +she answered in a dreamy sort of way, 'I have got work to do; I have +got work to do.' I don't know why it should be," continued Mrs. Cray, +after a pause, "but in the last few mouths Sara seems to have altered +so much; to have turned grave before her time. It is as though all her +youth had gone out of her." + +Oswald rose: he believed his mission had been accomplished--that there +was no doubt of Mark's investing his wife's money for her benefit, in +accordance with the doctor's wishes. They pressed him to remain and +take some tea, but he declined: he was returning to town that night. +His last words to his half-brother proved how completely he was +astray. + +"Mark, it would be only kind of you to set Miss Davenal right. I am +sure the misapprehension was causing her serious pain." + +"I'll attend to her," rejoined Mark, with a careless laugh, as he went +with him to the hall-door. "Goodnight, Oswald. A safe journey to you!" + +Mark returned to his wife. He had not quite liked to use that +deliberate deceit to Oswald Cray in her presence. But Mark was +ingenious in sophistries, in that kind of logic which tends to "make +the worse appear the better reason," and Caroline put full faith in +him as she listened to his half-apology, half-explanation. + +"It would never have done to enlighten _him_," observed Mark. "What I +have said, I said for your sake, Carine. Oswald is one who would +rather let a man plod on for years on bread and cheese, than see +him make a dash and raise himself at once to independence. He's a +slow-going coach himself, and thinks everybody else ought to be!" + +And, propping his back against the side of the mantelpiece, Mark Cray +enlarged upon all the grandeur and glory of the prospect opening to +him, painting its future scenes in colours so brilliant that his wife +lost herself in a trance of admiration, and wished it could all be +realised with the morning light. + + + + + +PART THE SECOND. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. +ENTERING ON A NEW HOME. + + +For once London was bright. A glorious spring day late in March had +gladdened the spirits of the metropolitan world, dreary with the fogs +and rains of the passing winter, and as the street passengers looked +up at the clear blue sky, the shining sun, they said to each other +that the day was a foretaste of summer. + +The sun drew to its setting, and its red rays fell on the terminus of +the Great Western Railway at Paddington; on all the bustle and +confusion of a train just in. Amidst the various vehicles driving out +of the station with their freight, was a cab, containing two ladies +dressed in deep mourning, one of whom, the elder, had not recovered +from the pushing about to which she had been subjected in the +confusion of arrival, and was protesting that she should not recover +it, and that there ought to be arrangements made to protect lady +travellers from such. On the box beside the driver was a--was he a +gentleman, or was he a servant? If the latter, he was certainly a most +superior one in looks, but the idle people standing about and casting +their eyes up to the passing cabs were taking him no doubt for the +former. The luggage piled up on the top of the cab and on the front +seat of the inside, seemed to say that these travellers had come from +a distance. + +In point of fact they had come from Hallingham, for they were no other +than Miss Davenal and her niece, and the gentleman on the box was +Neal. Miss Davenal kept up her chorus of complaint. It had begun with +the discomforts attendant on the arrival of a large train at the +terminus, and it would be continued, there was little doubt, for ever +and a day; for though Miss Bettina had come to London by her own free +decision, she had come sorely against her will. + +"Jostling! pushing! hustling! roaring! It is a _shame_ that ladies +should be subjected to such. Why don't they manage things better?" + +"But, Aunt Bettina, you need not have been in the bustle. If you had +but seated yourself in the cab, as Neal suggested, and allowed him to +see after the luggage--" + +"Hold your tongue, Sara. What was one pair of eyes to look after all +the luggage we have got? I chose to see to it as well as Neal; and I +say that the way you get pushed about is shameful. My firm belief is, +we have lost at least ten of the smaller packages." + +"No, no, aunt, they are all here; I counted them as they were brought +to the cab." + +"Yes, that's about all you are good for!--counting the cabs! I'd spend +my moments to a little more purpose. Good heavens! we shall be run +down! If this is London. I wish I had never heard of it." + +The cab threaded its way amidst the crowded streets and its inmates' +terrors--for Sara was little less timid than her aunt--until it drew +up before a small house in Pimlico; small as compared with their house +at home. Miss Davenal looked up at it and gave a groan; and Neal +opened the cab door. + +"Is _this_ the place, Neal? It is dreadfully small." + +"I think you will find it convenient, ma'am. It is better inside than +out." + +Better inside than out! It was new and fresh and pleasant-looking; but +to poor Miss Davenal it appeared, as she had said, dreadfully small. +Sara seemed less disagreeably impressed. She had not anticipated great +things; and it was of very little consequence to her where she lived +now. In reality, it was rather a nice house, of moderate size; but +Miss Davenal was estimating it by comparison--as we all estimate +things. + +She turned herself about in the small passage in dismay. A door on the +left led into the parlour, the room they would use for dining; about +four such could have been put into the dining-room at Hallingham. The +staircase would scarcely admit of two abreast; and in front of it, at +the top, was the drawing-room, a light, cheerful apartment, with one +large window. The furniture in these rooms was Miss Davenal's, and it +crowded them inconveniently. + +Dorcas, she who had lived at the Abbey with Mrs. Cray, stood there +with a smiling face to receive them; and the landlady, a humble sort +of person, in a green stuff gown, who had the pleasure of residing in +the back kitchen and sleeping in some obscure attic, came forward +also. The greater portion of the house had been taken unfurnished for +Miss Davenal. + +"About the bedrooms Dorcas?" inquired Miss Davenal, in a +half-frightened tone. "Which is mine?" + +"Which you please to choose, ma'am," was Dorcas's answer. "The two +best chambers are the one behind the drawing-room, and the one over +the drawing-room." + +The room over the drawing-room was the largest and best, but Miss +Davenal did not like so many stairs, and resigned it to Sara. She, +Miss Davenal, turned herself about in the small back room as she had +done in the passage; her own spacious chamber at home was all too +present to her, and she wondered whether she should ever become +reconciled to this. + +Had any one told her a few short months before--nay, a few short +weeks--that she should ever take up her abode in London, she had +rejected the very idea as absurd, almost an impossibility. Yet here +she was! come to it of her own decision, of her own accord, but in one +sense terribly against her will. + +Marcus Cray had carried out his plans. To the intense astonishment of +Hallingham he had rejected the valuable practice which had become his +by the death of Dr. Davenal, and his mode of relinquishing it had been +a most foolish one. Whether he feared the remonstrances of his +brother, the reproaches of Miss Davenal, or the interference of other +friends of his wife, certain it is that Mark, in disposing of the +practice, had gone unwisely to work. A practice such as Dr. Davenal's, +if placed properly in the market, would have brought forth a host of +men eager to be the purchasers and to offer a fair and just sum for +it. But of this Mark Cray allowed no chance. He privately negotiated +with a friend of his, a Mr. Berry, and sold him the goodwill for +little more than an old song. + +In vain Miss Davenal said cutting things to Mark; in vain Oswald Cray, +when the real truth reached him, came hastening down from London, in +doubt whether Mark had not really gone mad. They could not undo the +contract. It was signed and sealed, and Mr. Berry had paid over the +purchase-money. + +Then Mark spoke out upon the subject of his London prospects; he +enlarged upon their brilliancy until Miss Davenal herself was for the +moment dazzled. She urged on Mark the justice of his resigning to Dr. +Davenal's daughter part of this purchase-money; Mark evaded it. His +agreement with Dr. Davenal, he said, was to pay to his daughter three +hundred pounds per annum for five years; and provided he did pay it, +it could be of no consequence whether he made it by doctoring or by +other means: he should fulfil his bargain, and that was enough. + +Mark had had it all his own way. The money expected by his wife had +been paid over to him, and he kept it. It was a great deal less than +was expected, for Chancery had secured its own slice out of the pie; +but it was rather more than four thousand pounds. Mark was deaf to all +suggestions, all entreaties; he completely ignored the last wishes of +Dr. Davenal; turned round on Oswald, and flatly told him it was no +business of his; and carried the money to London in his pocket, when +he and Caroline quitted Hallingham. + +They quitted it in haste and hurry, long before things were ripe and +ready for them in London, Mark remarking to his wife that the sooner +they were out of that hornet's nest the better--by which term he +probably distinguished Miss Davenal and a few others who had +considered themselves privileged to interfere, so far as remonstrance +went. Caroline more than seconded all his wishes, all he did; Mark had +imbued her with his own rose-coloured views of the future, and she was +eager to enter on its brightness. + +The next to look out for a home was Miss Bettina Davenal. Affairs of +the sales and else had not been carried out so quickly and readily as +Mr. Wheatley in his inexperience had anticipated, and there had been +no immediate hurry for the house to be vacated. A surgeon in the town +was in treaty for it, and the furniture would have to be sold by +auction. Sara wondered that her aunt did not fix upon a residence, and +she feared all would be scuffle and bustle when they came to leave. + +But Miss Davenal had been fixing upon one in her own mind; at least, +upon the locality for one--and that was London. Never, willingly, did +Bettina Davenal forego a duty, however unpalatable it might be, and +she did believe it to be her duty to follow the fortunes of Caroline, +and not abandon her entirely to the mercy of her imprudent, +thoughtless husband. To quit Hallingham, the home of her whole life, +would be a cruel trial; but she thought she ought to do so. And she +bestowed a few bitter words upon the absent Mark for inducing the +necessity. + +Miss Bettina set about her plans. If there was one quality she was +distinguishable for, above all others, it was obstinacy. Obstinate she +was at all times, but in the cause of right or duty she could be +unflinchingly so. Watton, their former upper-maid, was established in +her new situation as housekeeper in the house of business in St. +Paul's Churchyard, and Miss Davenal wrote to her and requested her to +look out for a house or for a portion of one, and let her know about +it. Mr. and Mrs. Cray had taken a house in Grosvenor Place, facing the +Green Park, and Miss Davenal wished to be as near to them as her +pocket would allow. + +Watton attended to her commission. She thought that part of a handsome +house would be more suitable to Miss Davenal's former position than +the whole of an inferior one, and she did her best. Miss Davenal found +it, as you have just seen, anything but handsome; but she had little +notion of the prices asked in London, and she had limited Watton as to +the house-rent she was to offer. Neal was sent up to London with the +furniture, which had been warehoused for so many years; and when he +returned to Hallingham Dorcas took his place in London. Discharged by +Mrs. Cray, who had not chosen to take country servants with her, she +had been re-engaged by Miss Davenal, whose modest household was +henceforth to comprise only Dorcas and Neal. Miss Davenal would not +part with Neal if she could help it; but she had been surprised at the +man's ready agreement to stay in so reduced an establishment. + +And so, before things were quite in readiness for them, Miss Davenal +and Sara had come up. The furniture in the house at Hallingham was +being prepared for public sale, and they hastened away, not to witness +the desecration. How coldly and chilly this new home struck upon both, +now that they had really entered upon it, they alone could tell. +Neither slept through that first night, and they arose in the morning +alike unrefreshed. + +Breakfast over, Sara stood at the window. In their immediate situation +all the houses were private ones, but from a proximate corner she +could see the bustle of the highroad and the omnibuses passing up and +down. The day was bright, as the previous one had been, giving to +London its best aspect, and all the world was astir. + +"And now for Mark Cray and Caroline," said Miss Bettina. + +It had been Miss Davenal's pleasure that Mark Cray and his wife should +be kept in ignorance of this emigration of hers to London. Neal, +during his brief sojourn there, and Dorcas afterwards, had been +enjoined to keep strictly clear of the vicinity of their house. Having +no motive to disobey, they had complied with the orders; and Mr. and +Mrs. Cray were yet in total ignorance that their relatives were so +near. + +She put on her things and went out, Neal, as usual in attendance. Neal +was well acquainted with the geography of the place, and piloted his +mistress to the house in a few minutes' time: a handsome house, with +stone steps and pillars before the door. Miss Davenal gazed at it with +drawn-in lips. + +"It cannot be this, Neal." + +"Yes, ma'am, it is. Shall I ring?" + +Miss Davenal pushed forward and rang herself, an imperative peal. What +right had they, she was mentally asking, to venture on so expensive a +house as this must be? A footman flung open the door. + +"Does Mr. Cray live here?" + +"Yes," said the footman with a lofty air: as of course it was +incumbent as him to put on to anybody so dead to good manners as to +call at that early hour. "What might your business be?" + +None could put down insolence more effectually than Bettina Davenal. +She gave the man a look, and swept past him. + +"Show me to your mistress, man." + +And somehow the man was subdued to do as he was bid, and to ask quite +humbly, "What name, ma'am?" + +"Miss Davenal." + +He opened the door of a room on the right, and Miss Davenal, never +more haughty, never more stately, stepped into it. She saw it was of +good proportions, she saw it was elegantly furnished; and Caroline, in +a flutter of black ribbons on her pretty morning toilette, was sitting +toying with a late breakfast. + +She started up with a scream. Believing that the lady before her was +safe at Hallingham, perhaps the scream was excusable. + +"Aunt! Is it really you? Whatever brings you in London?" + +Miss Bettina neglected the question to survey the room again. She had +surveyed the hall as she came in; she caught a glimpse of another room +at the back: all fitted up fit for a duke and duchess. + +"Where's Mark Cray?" she cried. + +"Mark has been gone out ages ago, aunt. He is deep in business now. +The operations have begun." + +"Who took this house?" grimly asked Miss Bettina. + +"I and Mark." + +"And what did the furniture cost?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I don't think Mark has had the bills in yet. Why, +aunt?" + +"_Why!_" returned the indignant lady, in a blaze of anger. "You and +your husband are one of two things, Caroline; swindlers or idiots. If +you think that strong language, I cannot help it." + +"Aunt Bettina!" echoed the startled girl, "what are you saying?" + +"The truth," solemnly replied Miss Bettina. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. +HOPE DEFERRED. + + +Some weeks went on. The beautiful summer weather had come, and the +June sun was upon the streets. + +Sara Davenal stood at her chamber window looking out on the dusty +road. Not in reality seeing it; for the trouble and perplexity at her +heart had not lessened, and she had fallen into that habit of gazing +outwards in deep thought, noticing nothing. The same habit had +characterised Dr. Davenal; but at his daughter's age _he_ had never +known any weight of care. For years and years his path had been a +smooth one--little else than sunshine. She gazed outwards on the dusty +road, on the white pavement, glistening again with its heat, but saw +nothing. A looker-on would have said she was an idle girl, standing +there to take note of her neighbours' and the street's doings: of the +tradespeople calling at the opposite houses, of the servant girls +flirting with them as they gave their orders: of the water-cart +splashing past the corner along the public highway, but neglecting +this quiet nook: of everything, in short, there was to see and be +seen. How mistaken that looker-on was he could never know. Poor Sara +Davenal might have been the sole living object on a broad desert +plain, for all she saw of the moving panorama around her. + +"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick!" When that proverb of the wise +king of Israel comes practically home to our hearts in all its stern +reality, we have learnt one of the many bitter lessons of life. +Perhaps few have realised it more intensely than Sara Davenal had +latterly been obliged to realise it. From March to April, from April +to May, from May to June, week by week, and morning by morning, she +had been waiting for something that never came. + +A very short while to wait for anything some of you may be thinking; +not much more than two months at the most, for it is only the +beginning of the blooming summer month, and they had come to London +late in March. But--I believe I said the same a chapter or two ago--a +space of time is long or short according as we estimate it. Two +months' space may pass lightly over us as a fleeting summer's day; or +it may drag its slow length along, every minute of it marking its +flight upon our sick and weary hearts, with enough of agony crowded +into it to make it seem a lifetime. + +Sara and Miss Bettina had come up in March, and the things at +Hallingham were to be sold within a few days of their departure; and +in a few days after that Sara had expected the money would be paid +over to her. In her inexperience, she did not sufficiently allow for +delays: yet had she been ever so experienced she would not have +supposed the delay would extend itself to this. It is not of much +moment to inquire into the precise cause of this delay: it is +sufficient to know that it did occur; and it gave as yet no signs that +it would be speedily ended. + +Sara had expected the money early in April. It did not come. "It will +be up next week," she said to herself. But the next week came and did +not bring it, and she wrote to Mr. Wheatley. He hoped to realise in a +day or two was his somewhat incautious answer; but in truth he +himself, not being a man of business, anticipated no vexatious delay. +It was an unfortunate answer for Sara, for from that date she began to +look for the money daily; and you have not yet to learn what +impatience this daily waiting and expecting works in the human heart. +When one morning's post passed over and did not bring it or news of +it, Sara counted on it for the morrow. And the morrows came and went, +on and on; and Sara wrote and wrote, until she grew sick with the +procrastination and the disappointment. She had waited for this money +so anxiously that it had become with her a feverish longing; something +like that strange disease, _mal du pays_, as it is called, which +attacks the poor Swiss, exiled from their native land. Not for the +sake of the money itself was she so troubled--you know that; but from +the fear of what the evil delay might bring. In reply to the letter +she had forwarded to Mr. Alfred King, on the death of Dr. Davenal, +that unknown gentleman, whoever he might be, had replied in a short +note and a very illegible handwriting (abounding in flourishes), that +he was sorry to hear of the doctor's death, but counted on the +fulfilment of the obligations without vexatious delay. This was +addressed to Min Sara Davenal, and reached her safely at Hallingham. + +Poor Sara, in her inexperience, in her dread of what this man might +have in his power touching her brother, feared he might deem two or +three weeks only a "vexatious delay:" and when the two or three weeks +went on, and two or three weeks to those, and two or three weeks +again, then it was that the dread within her grew into a living agony. +Who Mr. Alfred King might be she knew not. On that night when she had +been called down to Dr. Davenal's study and found her brother there, +she had gathered from some words dropped by the doctor, in his very +imperfect explanation to her, that some one else had been almost +equally culpable with her brother: but who this other was, whether +gentleman or swindler, whether male or female, she had no means of +knowing. She did not suppose it to be Mr. Alfred King: she rather +surmised that whoever it was must have gone away, as Edward had. Now +and then she would wonder whether this Mr. Alfred King could be +connected with the police: but that was hardly likely. Altogether, her +ideas of Mr. Alfred King were extremely vague; still she could not +help dreading the man, and never thought of him without a shiver. + +She did not know what to do: whether to remain passive, or to write +and explain that the money was coming, and apologise for the temporary +delay. She felt an aversion to write, and she could not tell whether +it might do harm or good. And so she did nothing; and the time had +gone on, as you have heard, to June. + +Sara stood at the window gazing into space, when her attention was +awakened to outward things by seeing the postman turn into the street +with a fleet step. Could it be the _morning_ postman? Yes, it must be, +for the second delivery did not take place until eleven, and it was +now half-past nine. Something had rendered him later than usual. + +She threw up the window listlessly. So many, many mornings had she +watched for the post to bring this news from Hallingham, and been +disappointed, that a reaction had come, and she now _looked_ only for +disappointment. You will understand this. The postman was dodging from +one side of the road to the other with that unnecessary waste of time +and walking (as it seems to the uninitiated) which must help to make +postmen's legs so weary. He was at the opposite house now, superseding +the butcher boy in the good graces of the maid-servant, with whom he +stayed a rather unnecessary while to talk; and now he came striding +over. Sara leaned her head further out and saw him make for their +gate. + +And her pulses suddenly quickened. Even from that height she could +discern--or fancied she could discern--that the letter was from Mr. +Wheatley. That gentleman always used large blue envelopes, and it was +certainly one such that the man had singled out from his bundle of +letters. Had it come at last? Had the joyful news of the money come? + +She closed the window and ran swiftly down the stairs and met Neal +turning from the door with the letter. That official was probably not +at all obliged to her for demanding the letter from him so summarily. +But he had no resource but to give it up. + +It was from Mr. Wheatley, and Sara carried it to her room, a bright +flush of hope on her cheeks, an eager trembling on her happy fingers. +Mr. Wheatley did not like letter-writing, and she knew quite well that +he would not have written uselessly. Opening the envelope she found it +a blank; a blank entirely: nothing even written inside it: it had but +enclosed a letter for herself which had apparently been sent to +Hallingham. O the bitter, bitter disappointment! there was not a line, +there was not a word from Mr. Wheatley. + +A conviction arose that she had seen the other handwriting before. +Whose was it?--it seemed to be made up of flourishes. Mr. Alfred +King's! Her heart stood still in its fear, and seemed as if it would +never go on again:-- + + "Essex Street, June 1st. + +"Madam, + +"I am sorry to have to give you notice that unless the money owing to +me, and which I have been vainly expecting these several weeks, is +immediately paid, I shall be under the necessity of taking public +steps in the matter; and they might not prove agreeable to Captain +Davenal. + + "I am, Madam, + + "Your obedient servant, + + "Alfred King. + +"Miss Sara Davenal." + + +So the first faint realisation of the haunting shadow of the past +weeks had come! Sara sat with the letter in her hand. She asked +herself what was to be done?--and she wished now, in a fit of vain +repentance, that she had written long ago to Mr. Alfred King, as it +had been in her mind to do. + +She must write now. She must write a note of regret and apology, +telling him the exact truth--that the sale of the different effects at +Hallingham and the realisation of the proceeds had taken more time +than was anticipated, but that she expected the money daily--and beg +of him to wait. In her feverish impatience it seemed as if every +moment that elapsed until this explanation should be delivered to Mr. +Alfred King was fraught with danger, and she hastened to the room +below, the drawing-room. + +Her desk was there. It was generally kept in her own chamber, but she +had had it down the previous evening. Neal was quitting the room as +she entered: he had been putting it in order for the day. Miss Davenal +was in the parlour below, where she generally remained an hour or two +after breakfast. + +The letter--Mr. Alfred King's letter--was spread open before Sara, and +she sat pen in hand deliberating how she should answer it, when her +aunt's voice startled her. It sounded on the stairs. Was she coming +up? Sara hastily placed the open letter in the desk, closed and locked +it, and opened the drawing-room door. But in her flurry she left the +key in the desk. + +Miss Davenal was standing on the mat at the foot of the stairs "Can't +you hear me call?" she asked. + +"I did hear, aunt. What is it?" + +"Then you ought to have heard!" was the retort of Miss Davenal, at +cross-purposes as usual. "_You_ are not turning deaf, I suppose?" + +"What is it, aunt?" repeated Sara, going half-way down the stairs. + +Instead of answering, Miss Davenal turned and went into the +breakfast-room again. Sara could only follow her. Her aunt's manners +had never relaxed to her from the sternness assumed at the time of Dr. +Davenal's death: cold and severe she had remained ever since; but she +looked unusually cold and severe now. + +"Shut the door," said Miss Davenal. + +Sara hesitated for a moment, more in mind than action, and then she +obeyed. She had left her desk, and wanted to get back to it. + +"Hold this," said Miss Davenal. + +She had taken her seat in her own chair, and was cutting out some +articles of linen clothing that looked as long as the room. Her income +was a very moderate one now, and she did a good deal of sewing instead +of putting it out. Sara took the stuff in her hand, and held it while +her aunt cut: an interminable proceeding to an impatient helpmate, for +Miss Davenal cut only about an inch at a time, and then drew a short +thread and cut again. + +"Won't it tear?" asked Sara. + +"It _will_ wear. Did you ever know me buy linen that wouldn't wear? I +have too good an eye for linen to buy what won't wear." + +"I asked, aunt, if it would not tear." + +"Tear!" repeated Miss Davenal, offended at the word--at the ignorance +it betrayed. "No, it will not tear; and I should think there's hardly +a parish school child in the kingdom but would know that, without +asking." + +Sara, rebuked, held her part in silence. Presently Miss Davenal lifted +her eyes and looked her full in the face. + +"Who was that letter from this morning?" + +"It was a private letter, aunt." + +"A what?" snapped Miss Davenal. + +Sara let fall the work, and stood fearlessly before Miss Davenal. The +most gentle spirit can be aroused at times. "The letter was from a +gentleman, aunt. It was a private letter to myself. Surely I am not so +much of a child that I may not be trusted to receive one?" + +"A pri-vate let-ter!--A gentleman!" was the amazed reiteration of Miss +Bettina. "_What_ do you say?" + +Sara stood quite still for a moment, while the faint flush that was +called up died away on her cheeks, and then she bent close to her +aunt's ear, her low voice unmistakably clear and distinct. + +"Aunt Bettina, you knew there was some unhappy business that papa was +obliged to meet--and bear--just before he died. The letter I have +received this morning bears reference to it. It is from a Mr. King, +but I don't know him. I should be thankful if you would not force me +to these explanations: they are very painful." + +Miss Bettina picked up the work and drew at a thread until it broke. +"Who is Mr. King?" she asked. + +"I do not indeed know. I never saw him in my life. He had to write to +me just a word about the business, and I must answer him. In telling +you this much, Aunt Bettina, I have told all I can tell. Pray, for +papa's sake, do not ask me further." + +"Well, this is a pretty state of things for the enlightened nineteenth +century!" grunted Miss Bettina. "We have read of conspiracies and +Rye-House plots, and all the rest of it: _this_ seems a plot, I think! +Have you nothing more to say?" + +"No, aunt," was the low, firm answer. + +"Then you may go," said Miss Bettina, twitching the work out of Sara's +hand. "I can do this myself." + +And Sara knew that no amount of entreaty would induce her aunt to +admit of help in her cutting after that. She went upstairs, and met +Neal coming out of the drawing-room. + +"I thought you had finished the room, Neal," she said, a sudden fear +stealing over her as she remembered that her desk was left with the +key in it. + +"So I had, Miss. I came up now for this vase. My mistress said it was +to be washed." + +He went downstairs carrying it: a valuable vase of Sèvres porcelain, +never intrusted to the hands of anybody but Neal. It had belonged to +poor Richard--was presented to him just before he went out on his +unfortunate voyage. Sara walked to her desk; it stood on the centre +table. What with vases and other ornaments, and superfluous articles +of furniture, the room was somewhat inconveniently full. It was a +good-sized room, too; nearly square, the window facing you as you +entered it, and the fireplace on the right. Opposite the fireplace +was a beautiful inlaid cabinet with a plate-glass back: it had never +cost less than forty pounds: but Miss Bettina had not spared money +when she bought her furniture years ago. Look at the girandoles on the +walls!--at the costly carpet, soft as velvet! Opposite the window +stood Sara's piano, a fine instrument, the gift of her loving father +on her eighteenth birthday. Altogether the room was an elegant one, +but Miss Bettina could not have reconciled herself to any other. The +parlour below was a nice room also, with its handsome sideboard and +its glittering mirrors: but it was smaller than the drawing-room. + +Sara stood for a moment before her desk: it _looked_ exactly as she +left it. She turned the key and raised the lid, and saw that had +anybody else done the same Mr. Alfred King's letter was lying face +upwards, and might have been read without the slightest trouble in an +instant of time. Had Neal seen the letter? Would he be likely to do +such a thing as raise her desk surreptitiously? Many a servant would +be in a room with an unlocked desk times and again, and never attempt +to peer inside it. Was it probable that Neal had any propensity for +prying into affairs that did not concern him? It all lay in that. + +Vexed with herself for having allowed the chance to any one, Sara +carried her desk to her chamber, and sat down and wrote her note +there. But she could not get the thought quite so readily out of +her head: it was most inexpedient that Neal, or any one else, should +see that letter of Mr. Alfred King's. There occurred to her mind +something her brother Edward had once told her--about a doubt of Dr. +Davenal's--as to whether Neal had not opened a note of Lady Oswald's. +Suddenly she thought of the doctor's desk. If that had been opened In +an impulse of fear he put the key into the lock. + +It would not turn. Something was the matter with the lock. Had it been +tampered with? Sara's face grew hot. + +Turning and twisting and pulling, but all gently, she worked the key +about in the lock. No, it would not open it. In the previous summer's +holidays a certain cupboard in Watton's room downstairs declined to be +opened in just the same way, and when inquiries came to be made, +Master Dick Davenal boldly avowed that, wanting some jam one day, he +had opened it with another cupboard key, and so had spoiled the lock. +Had this lock been put out of order in the same way? The proper key to +it was always about herself. + +A locksmith had to be brought in to the desk. He speedily opened it +and put the lock to rights. "It was only a ward bent," he said. Sara +inquired whether he thought it had been done through a strange key +being put into the lock, but she did not get much satisfaction. "Like +enough it might," he said, but "sometimes them wards got out of order +with their own key." + +"It seems quite a common lock," remarked Sara, as she paid him. + +"Laws, yes! A'most any key might open that." + +"What was the matter with the desk?" questioned Miss Bettina, who met +the man in the passage as he was going away. + +"I don't know, aunt. It would not open: such a thing has never +happened to it before. Do you remember last midsummer holidays Dick +spoiled Watton's cupboard through undoing it with a false key? The man +says it may have been the same case here." And Neal, who was standing +immediately opposite his young mistress, and met her eye as she spoke +heard the words with unruffled composure; not so much as a shade of +change disturbing the equanimity of his impassive countenance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. +AN UNPLEASANT VISIT. + + +"Set me down at Essex Street." + +The request, proffered in a sweet and timid yoke, was made by a young +lady who had just taken her place in an omnibus. The conductor's +gracious response was to shut the door with a desperate bang, and call +out "hi" to the driver, as a signal that he might go on. + +The young lady was too pretty not to be stared at; but the crape veil, +pertaining to her handsome mourning, was not raised from before her +face, as she took her seat with that quiet self-possession which +rarely forsakes the gentlewoman. + +You will be at no loss to guess that it was Sara Davenal. The +expedition she was bound upon was one that nothing save obligation +could have forced upon her--a visit to Mr. Alfred King. Her note to +that gentleman had brought forth another letter from him. It was to +the effect that he could not wait longer for the money without the +utmost inconvenience, but he would do himself the honour of calling +upon her at eleven o'clock the following morning, to discuss the +matter in person. A most unsatisfactory, dismaying communication to +Sara. To receive him in her Aunt Bettina's house was out of all +question; for that estimable lady would undoubtedly have insisted upon +making a third at the interview. To have the secret brought home to +her very hearth would be too fortunate an opportunity to miss +acquainting herself with its nature and details, even though she had +to draw the information from Mr. Alfred King. Sara saw what must be +done, however she might dislike it; and she wrote a hasty note to the +gentleman, saying that it would not be convenient to receive him in +her own house, but she would instead wait upon him in Essex Street. +Hence her unwonted omnibus journey. + +The omnibus dashed along on its road. It was full, and therefore there +was no loitering. Leaving Pimlico behind it, it passed Charing Cross +and gained the Strand. There it stopped for somebody to get out, and +Sara looked up at an exclamation made by the passenger seated +immediately opposite to her next the door, a lady apparently but +little older than herself: a quiet, steady, self-possessed girl with a +pleasing face and fair hair. + +The passing of a gentleman on the payment, close up to which the +omnibus was drawn, had apparently caused the exclamation to escape +her. His eyes in the same moment caught the fair face bent towards him +from the door, and he approached. A bright smile greeted him, and he +took her hand and kept it as they spoke together. + +"You, Jane!" he exclaimed, and the voice, subdued though it was, bore +a laughing sound. "It is about the last place I should have expected +to see you in. I thought you and omnibuses were decided foes." + +"But I am going a long way this morning; too far to walk," she +answered. "We have had a letter from----" + +She bent her face lower, and the words became indistinct. The +gentleman resumed. + +"And you are going to inquire about it? Well, Jane, don't be in a +hurry. I'll tell you why another time. Inquire particulars if you +like, but fix nothing. The fact is, I have something else in view." + +"Of course we'd not fix anything without consulting you," she answered +in her pleasant Scotch accent. "When will you be coming?" + +"Tonight most likely. Goodbye, Jane. Take care of yourself." + +He released her hand which he had been holding all the while, the +conductor gave the door a bang, and the omnibus dashed on. Sara had +turned white as death. A variety of emotions that she would not have +cared to analyse were at conflict within her--for the voice was the +voice of Oswald Cray. + +And he had gone away, not seeing her. For _that_ she was on some +accounts thankful. He might have been as much surprised to see her in +an omnibus--perhaps more so--as he was the young lady opposite; and +least of all to Oswald Cray could Sara have explained the errand on +which she was bent. She stole a glance at the girl's interesting face: +a good and sensible face one that might well win the regard even of +Oswald Cray; and that baneful plant, jealousy, which perhaps had taken +root in her heart before, suddenly shot forth its sharp tendrils into +every corner. What right had she, Sara Davenal, to indulge any such +passion?--had she not parted from Oswald Cray for ever? + +"Did you not ask to be put down at Essex Street?" + +The question aroused her from her pain. It came from the same young +lady opposite, and Sara looked up with a start. + +"Yes;" she answered. + +"Then we must have passed it, for this that we are going through is +Temple Bar, and I know Essex Street is before we come to that. This +young lady told you to set her down at Essex Street," she added to the +conductor. And the man stopped the omnibus without offering the +slightest apology. + +"Thank you," said Sara to her courteously. And she walked away with +the pleasant voice ringing in her ear: and the conviction within her +that it must be Jane Allister. + +She walked slowly down Essex Street, looking out for the offices of +Messrs. Jones and Green, and soon found them. It was a large and +dusty-looking house, on the right-hand side of the street, and was +apparently let out to different occupants, as there were various names +on the door. The top one was "Mr. Carberry:" it was simply written in +black letters on the door-post; the second was on a great brass plate, +nearly as large as the post itself, "Jones and Green:" and there was +another brass plate, which had on it "Messrs. Knollys, Solicitors to +the Great Chwddyn Mining Company." + +Sara stood still as the last words caught her eye, arrested by +surprise. It was not the unpronounceable name that drew her attention; +but the fact that this Great Chwddyn scheme was the very one in which +Mark Cray had embarked; the El Dorado of his friend Barker; the source +of Mark's present flourishing prosperity and of his future greatness. + +She felt sure it was the same name, though nobody ever wrote it twice +alike; and whether this, or any other, might be the correct way of +spelling it, the Messrs. Knollys themselves could not have told. Mark +Cray and Barker, finding the word rather difficult to the tongue, had +got into the habit of calling it the "Great Wheal Bang Company," as +being readier than the other: "Wheal Bang" being some technical term +connected with the mine; though whether applicable to any particular +stratum of its ore, or to the works, or to the mine generally, or to +anything else, Sara had never yet clearly understood. "The Great Wheal +Bang Mining Company" was the familiar term in Mark's mouth, and in +that of others interested in the mine: so prone we are to catch up +phrases: and "The Great Wheal Bang" was certainly better for English +tongues than the Great Chwddyn, with its variety of spelling in +uninitiated hands. For once that Sara had heard the difficult name she +had heard the easier one a hundred times; nevertheless, now that her +eyes fell upon it, she knew it to be that, and no other. + +The fact in itself was not of moment to her, but thought is quick; and +the thought that darted across Sara's mind was, that if Messrs. +Knollys were the solicitors to this rich and important company, there +might possibly be a chance of Mark Cray's or of his friend Barker's +calling in at these offices at any moment, in which case they might +see her. And that would not be at all convenient. + +But there was no help for it. She could but go in; and the chance only +added another drop to the cup of pain. Most painful was it to Sara, +from more causes than one, to come thus publicly to these places of +business: and to come as may be almost said, in secret; not daring to +speak of her real errand. + +With her crape veil drawn more closely over her face she stepped into +the passage. A door on the left bore the words "Messrs. Knollys;" and +Sara was looking around her when a young man with a paper in his hand +came hastily out of it. + +"Did you want Knollys's office?" he asked, in a civil tone, noting her +look of indecision. + +"I want Messrs. Jones and Green's." + +"Upstairs, first floor." Sara thanked him, and passed through the +inner entrance, which stood open, and ascended the stairs. In great +white letters on the door facing her at the top, she read, "Office: +Jones and Green." She knocked at the door, and a middle-aged man in a +seedy suit of black opened it. + +"I wish to see Mr. Alfred King," she said. "Is he here?" + +"Mr. Alfred King?" repeated the man. "He is not here now, and I don't +know----Stay, I'll inquire." + +Leaving her standing there, he retreated, and she heard a remote +colloquy carried on in an undertone. Then he came back again. + +"Mr. King won't be here until twelve o'clock." + +"I had an appointment with him at eleven," said Sara, wondering +whether there could be any mistake. + +"Perhaps so," said the man. "But he dropped us a line this morning to +say he could not get here until twelve. I daresay if you come then you +can see him." + +He shut the door, and Sara went downstairs again. What should she do +with herself this long hour--for it was not quite eleven yet. Suddenly +she bethought herself that she would go to see Watton. St. Paul's +Churchyard, as Watton had told then--for she had paid Miss Davenal and +Sara two or three visits since their arrival in London--was in a line +with Temple Bar. + +Sara walked quickly through the crowded streets. Once she stopped to +look in at an attractive shop, but somebody came jostling against her, +she thought purposely, and she did not stop again. She easily found +the house of business where Watton now was, and its private door. +Watton came forward all in surprise, and took her into a plain +comfortable sitting-room, which was her own, she said. Sara inquired +if she liked the situation any better: for at first Watton had not +liked it. + +"Well, yes, miss; I think I do," was the woman's answer. "Use and time +soften most things. There's a great deal of responsibility on me, and +enough work also. What I can't get reconciled to is the dust and the +noise. As to the dust and dirt, I'd never have believed in it without +seeing it. Being in mourning for my late master I have not worn white +caps yet, and don't believe I ever can wear them: I'm sure I might put +on three a-week and not be clean. Sometimes I wash my hands four times +in a morning." + +"Then think what it is for my aunt Bettina, with her delicate hands +and her delicate lace," returned Sara. "I suppose the dirt is not +quite so bad with us as it is here; but it seems as if nothing could +be worse, and my aunt makes it a perpetual grievance. Shall you remain +here, Watton?" + +"I have made up my mind to try it for a twelvemonth, Miss Sara," was +the answer. "It's too good a situation to be given up lightly; and it +shall have a fair trial. I miss my country life; I miss the green +fields and the gossiping neighbours at Hallingham: oftentimes I wake +from a dream, thinking I'm there, and then I am fit to cry with the +disappointment. I fear the pleasant old times have gone away from me +for ever." + +"They go away from us all, Watton," was the murmured answer, "never to +return again." + +"You will send the two young gentlemen to see me, Miss Sara," said +Watton, as she was showing her out. "Perhaps they'd honour me by +drinking tea here in the course of their holidays. My evenings are +my own. Master Dick should eat as much jam as he'd like. I'd get in +half-a-dozen pots assorted." + +Sara could not forbear a smile: Dick would have gone to the other end +of the kingdom for half-a-dozen pots of assorted jam: but it changed +to gravity as she turned to Watton. + +"Watton, do you know I have been so great a coward as not to ask my +aunt decisively whether she intends to have them up for the holidays. +I very much fear she does not; and therefore I shrink from asking, +lest the fear should be made a certainty." + +"Poor boys!" ejaculated Watton. "Well, of course it's all very +different from what it was. Ah, Miss Sara! there are too many will +find cause to miss the good Dr. Davenal!" + +With the rebellious sorrow, called up by the words, rising in her +heart, Sara walked along the hot and bustling streets again. It was a +little past twelve when she reached Essex Street, and in going up the +stair she happened to turn her head, and saw, stepping quickly in at +the outer door, Oswald Cray. She hoped he had not seen her; she +thought he had not; and she hastened on, her pulses beating. What +strange coincidence could have brought him there? + +Mr. Alfred King had arrived. Sara was shown through a busy room into a +smaller one, long and narrow, apparently partitioned off from a third +room, which she did not see. The room contained a couple of chairs, a +table-desk, and a slender, dandy sort of gentleman; nothing more. He +was leaning against the table, doing something to his nails with a +penknife, an eye-glass in his eye, and a black moustache with rings +at its ends curling on his lip. + +"Mr. Alfred King?" she said interrogatively, for there had been no +introduction. + +Mr. Alfred King bowed. He removed his hat, which he had been wearing, +shut up the penknife with a flourish of his thin white hands, +courteously stepped forward, and was altogether the gentleman again. + +"Miss Sara Davenal, I presume?" + +How Sara entered on her task she never knew. Its nature made her feel +sadly confused and diffident, as if all self-possession had gone out +of her. Whatever her brother's crime might have been, she assumed that +the gentleman before her had cognisance of it; and it rendered her +miserably conscious in that first moment. Very much embarrassed, and +aware that she was so, she apologised for the delay in the payment of +the money, stated that she expected it daily, and begged of Mr. King +to be kind enough to wait a little longer. Just what she had stated in +her letter: in fact she had nothing else to urge. + +"I am exceedingly sorry to put you to the inconvenience of coming +here, Miss Davenal," he said, in a courteous but drawling tone. "It is +reversing the appropriate order of things. I should have been better +pleased to wait upon you." + +"But I could not make it convenient to receive you," replied Sara. +"The truth is," she added in her candour, "that my aunt, Miss Davenal, +with whom I live, was not made cognisant of this business; and it was +my father's, Dr. Davenal's, wish that she should not be." + +"Ah--I see," observed Mr. Alfred King, in the same drawling tone that +spoke so unpleasantly of affectation, of something not _true_ in his +nature. "Still I feel horribly annoyed at causing you the trouble of +coming here, Miss Davenal." + +"Will you be so kind as to tell me the object of the interview?" she +said. "For what purpose did you wish to see me?" + +"Ah, yes, to be sure. The fact is, Miss Davenal, some positive +understanding must be come to as to the precise time when the money +will be paid. You cannot imagine the inconvenience to which the delay +has put me: and, but for the respect I once bore Captain Davenal, I +would not have remained so passive as I have done." + +There was a pointed stress on the word "once" that recalled the blush +into Sara's cheeks, the dread to her heart. She murmured a hope that +the money would be realised and paid to him ere the lapse of many +days. + +"You see, Miss Davenal, had the money no ulterior destination it would +not be of so much consequence," he resumed. "Were it due to myself +only I would wait with the greatest pleasure, no matter at what +inconvenience; but that is not the case, it is these other parties who +will not be pacified. Do you comprehend me, Miss Davenal?" + +"Yes, I think so," said Sara, faintly, beginning to fear the affair +was more complicated than she had thought. "Who are the parties?" + +Mr. Alfred King ran his white hand and its showy ring right through +his black hair. "Well--I would tell you if I could, Miss Davenal: in +anything that concerns myself only, you may command me as you please: +but the fact is, I am not at liberty to mention the names of those +parties even to you." + +There was a pause, and Sara's manner for the moment grew haughtily +distant She liked his words less and less. But she recollected +herself: she subdued her proud spirit. Was not Edward in his power? + +"These parties have been angry at the delay," he resumed, breaking the +silence that had ensued. "They have badgered the life nearly out of me +over it: excuse the term, Miss Davenal, it but expresses the fact. I +assure you I have had a most difficult task to keep them from +proceeding to extremities. And, in short, they won't be put off +longer." + +"From extremities?" she repeated, the one ominous word alone catching +her ear. + +Mr. Alfred King looked at her, not speaking. His gaze seemed to ask +her how much she knew. She did not respond to it. + +"Were this unfortunate matter made public, nothing could save Captain +Davenal," he resumed, in a low tone. "He is now in India, in apparent +safety, but--in short, it would only be a question of time, two or +three months or so. Men are brought from the ends of the world now to +answer for--for crime." + +Subdued as was his voice Sara looked around in terror. That partition, +if nothing more than a partition, was probably a shallow one, allowing +sound to pass beyond it. + +"Be at ease," he said, detecting her fear, "we are quite alone." + +"Do you know Captain Davenal?" she asked. + +"Very well indeed. He and I were at one time sworn friends, constantly +together. Until this unhappy affair arose to part us." + +Perhaps she would have liked to ask the particulars that she did not +know. But her whole heart revolted from it; it would have seemed like +_acknowledging_ Edward's crime. + +"You see his being in India is only a temporary safeguard, and these +parties who hold his safety in their hands might bring him home if +they chose. It is only in compliance with my urgent entreaties that +they have kept passive so long. But the delay is extending itself +beyond all reason, and they--in short, Miss Davenal, they will not +wait longer." + +"But what can I do?" she urged in her helplessness. "I admit that the +delay is vexatious--Heaven knows _I_ have felt it so," she added, with +a burst of feeling that would not be suppressed--"but the money _is +there_; it will very shortly be forthcoming, and then it will be +paid." + +"Yes, I have pointed out all this to them;" he said, flicking a speck +of dirt off his coat. "I--I suppose there is no foreign delay or +obstruction, beyond the delay caused by realising the different +monies?" + +His sudden penetrating glance at her, the hidden earnestness of his +tone, told Sara that this was a question of importance to him. It was +nearly the only point throughout the interview which had not borne to +her ear and eye a vague and indefinite idea of something untruthful: +untruthful in himself, his voice, and his words. Possibly he had +sought the personal interview with the sole view of ascertaining this +solitary fact. An impression that it was so passed rapidly through her +mind. + +"Let me thoroughly understand you;" she said, following her own +thoughts rather than his words. "Tell me without reserve exactly what +it is you wish to know, and I will answer you to the best of my power. +There is no other cause for the delay, except that the monies have not +been realised so quickly as they ought to have been; no other cause +whatever. Were you thinking that there was?" + +"I?" and again the false drawling tone grated harshly on her ear. "Not +I, I assure you, Miss Davenal. Those parties of whom I spoke hinted to +me that with all this delay it looked as if there were no intention to +pay the money. Of course, I knew that it was nothing of the sort; that +the money _must_ be paid." + +"The very day that the money reaches me it will be paid to you, +according to the instructions of my father, Dr. Davenal," she said, +impressively. "I beg you to believe this; and to convey the assurance +of it to them." + +"I will do so. How much longer do you suppose the delay will extend? +Can you fix any definite date for the payment?" + +"I wish I could. But you see it does not rest with me. A very, very +short period now will, I believe, see it settled." + +Mr. Alfred King mused. "I will inform them of what you say, Miss +Davenal, and I do trust the period may be a short one. If protracted, +I cannot answer for it that they would remain passive." + +"They must be cruel men to wish to harm Captain Davenal!" + +"No," he answered. "Had they been cruel men they would not have +consented _not_ to harm him. It is not that, Miss Davenal; it is the +money itself that is wanted; and the delay vexes them." + +She was feeling desperate, and she ventured on a bold step. "In their +own interest, then, they must be cautious not to harm him. Were they +to do so they would lose the money." + +"Why?" + +"Because I would never pay it." + +Mr. Alfred King glanced at her in surprise. All her timid hesitation +of manner was gone, the expression of her face had changed to resolute +bravery. "I do not pretend to entire acquaintance with the details of +this unhappy business, but I understand so much, Mr. King--that this +money _purchases_ my brother's safety," she continued. "If that be +imperilled, the bargain would be forfeited, and the money retained. +The payment or non-payment of this money rests solely with me; and I +should not keep faith with the other parties if they did not keep +theirs with my dead father." + +"There will be no question of their not keeping faith, provided they +get their rights, Miss Davenal." + +"And their rights--if you mean the money--they shall have; I trust +speedily. I shall be only too glad to get the matter over." + +"I'm sure I shall be," returned Mr. Kino in a tone that was certainly +a hearty one. "It will be well for all parties; _very_ well for +Captain Davenal." + +Sara turned to the door. Mr. Alfred King took up his hat for the +purpose of attending her outside. + +"I am glad that you have allowed me this interview, Miss Davenal. It +will be so much more satisfactory to these gentlemen now that I have +seen you. Dr. Davenal's death, occurring as it did, was most +unfortunate. By the way, did he not leave some papers behind him?" + +"There are papers in my possession relating to this affair," she +answered. "I know what to do with them when the proper time shall +come." + +"Ah, yes, of course; doubtless," came the untrue words in their untrue +tone. "Then I may rely on the very speedy receipt of this money, Miss +Davenal?" + +"You may rely upon having it immediately that it is paid to me. That +is all, I presume, sir?" + +Mr. Alfred King could not say that it was not all. He gallantly +offered his arm to pilot her through the busy office of Messrs. Jones +and Green; but Miss Sara Davenal, with a gesture far more expressive +of haughty pride than of gratitude, declined the honour. The interview +was leaving a disagreeable impression on her mind, apart from its +natural unpleasantness; and perhaps it was unreasonable of her, but +she had taken an unconquerable dislike to Mr. Alfred King. + +The stairs seemed more busy than the lawyer's room. Men, some of them +rather rough-looking ones, were passing up and down. Mr. Alfred King +drawled an anathema on the tenant of the second floor, Mr. Carberry. +Mr. Carberry had only recently taken the rooms, and he appeared to +have no ostensible occupation, save the receiving of a great many +visitors and an occasional telegram. The visitors were supposed +to be mostly in the sporting line; and during the holding of distant +races the passages and door would be besieged by an eager and noisy +crowd:--as was the case on this day. + +"Three times have we had them scattered by the police," exclaimed Mr. +Alfred King, unmistakably in earnest now. "And that pest Carberry--or +whatever the fellow's name may be--can't be got rid of for nearly a +twelvemonth to come! Knollys's have threatened to indict the landlord +for a nuisance; Jones and Green have given conditional warning to +quit; and it's all of no use. The landlord went to Carberry with tears +in his eyes, and told him he'd be the ruin of his house, that he'd +forgive every farthing of rent, already owing, if he'd go; but +Carberry coolly said he had taken it for a twelvemonth, and he should +stop his twelvemonth. Miss Davenal, you cannot! Allow me!" + +For Sara had come face to face with this crowd at the street-door, and +commenced a struggle with them, they not being polite enough to give +way in the least. Mr. Alfred King seized her arm forcibly with a view +of helping her, when she was as forcibly separated from him by an +authoritative hand, and found herself on the arm of Mr. Oswald Cray, +his face ablaze with haughty anger, as he turned it on Mr. Alfred +King. + +"Thank you, sir," he said, all the pride of the Oswalds concentrating +itself in him then. "This lady is under my charge." + +And Mr. Alfred King, with a somewhat subdued manner, as if he had +received a check that he did not care to resist, made as polite a bow +to Sara as the crowd allowed him, and disappeared from view. + +Clear of the assemblage, Sara would have withdrawn her arm, but Oswald +Cray held it too tightly. A moment, and he turned his face upon her, +ablaze still. + +"What do you do with that man? He is not a fit acquaintance for you." + +At first she could not answer. Not so much from the suddenness of the +whole thing and the emotion it had brought to her, as because she did +not know what explanation to give. + +"In going into Knollys's office just now I thought I saw you making +your way up the stairs," he resumed. "I said to myself that it could +not be; but I was unable to get the impression from my mind, and I +waited. One of Knollys's clerks said that the young lady gone up had +inquired for Alfred King. What can have taken you to him?" + +He was growing somewhat less vehement. It had been a moment to +convince him that the love which he had safely deemed he was subduing +remained with him still in all its force. To rescue her from the +undesirable companionship of Mr. Alfred King, from contact with the +unhallowed crowd of gambling men, he would have parted with his life. + +"I was compelled to go," she murmured "I could not help myself." + +"Compelled to go up those stairs? Compelled to pay that man a visit?" + +"Yes, I was. It was as distasteful to me as it could be, but I had no +resource. I went there on business which no one but myself could +transact. Thank you for your protection, Mr. Oswald. Cray." + +She withdrew her arm now, and there was no opposition to it. Reason +was resuming her seat in Oswald's mind, and he felt angry with himself +for his excess of demonstration. All things considered, it had been +scarcely wise. + +"It is not at all a place for a young lady to go to," he resumed, as +he walked by her side, and his manner became cold even to restraint. +"The Knollys' are sufficiently respectable, but as much cannot be said +for the tenants of the upper part of the house. You must not go to it +again." + +Once again she knew she should have to go to it, but she fervently +hoped that would close the matter. She wished she could tell him the +nature of the business that took her there. Parted though they were, +she did care to stand well in the estimation of Oswald Cray; she +esteemed him still beyond any one on earth. + +"I never saw Mr. Alfred King until this morning; he is no acquaintance +of mine, or ever likely to be. But he tells me he was once an intimate +friend of my brother Edward's." + +Oswald Cray's haughty lip took an additional curl. "He may have been +looked upon as a respectable man once; but he lost himself. He is not +a desirable acquaintance for you." + +"I could not help myself," she answered, her cheeks glowing. "It was +necessary that I should see him, and the interview could not be +delegated to another." + +He made no reply: only continued by her side. Not until her house was +nearly reached did he leave her. Then he stopped and held out his +hand; but he had scarcely spoken a word to her all the way. + +"Thank you for your kindness," said Sara. "But I am very sorry you +should have troubled yourself to come with me. It must have broken +your day greatly." + +"Never mind; I shall catch it up," he answered, looking at his watch.. +"I do not like to see you in these London streets alone. I cannot +forget that Dr. Davenal was once my dear friend, and that you are his +daughter." + + + + +CHAPTER XL. +A FLOURISHING COMPANY. + + +The Great Wheal Bang Mining Company had its offices in a commodious +and irreproachable quarter of the city. If I give the familiar name +Wheal Bang, instead of the difficult one Chwddyn, which can only be +spelt from copy, letter by letter, and perhaps wrongly then, it is to +save myself and my readers trouble. Not being Welsh, they might find a +difficulty in arriving at the accurate pronunciation, just as I do at +the spelling. The promoter of the Great Wheal Bang Mining Company, Mr. +Barker, occupied sumptuous apartments in Piccadilly; and his copartner +in the scheme, as Mark Cray was to all intents and purposes now, +flourished in his mansion in Grosvenor Place. + +The offices were undeniable in their appointments. Situation, width of +staircase, size of rooms, decorations, furniture, attendants; all were +of the first water. People who play with the money of others do not in +general go to work sparingly; and speculative public schemes +necessarily entail a large outlay. These schemes, springing up now and +again in London, to the beguilement of the unwary--one in about every +ten of which may succeed in the end--have been so well described by +abler pens than mine, that I might hesitate even to touch upon them, +were it not that the story cannot conveniently get on without my doing +so, and that I have a true tale to tell. How many hearts have been +made to ache from the misery entailed by these uncertain ventures, +ushered in with so much pomp and flourish, so full a promise of +prosperity; and how many heads unable to bear the weight of the final +ruin, have been laid low in the grave, God alone will ever know. They +have ruined thousands in body; they have ruined some in soul; and the +public is not yet tired of them, and perhaps will not be to the end of +time. + +If you never had the chance of going to bed at night a poor man, and +waking up in the morning with a larger fortune than could be counted, +you might have it now. You had only to enter largely into the Great +Wheal Bang Company, become the successful possessor of a number of its +shares, and the thing was accomplished. For the world was running +after it, and some of the applicants were successful in their request +for allotments, and some were unsuccessful; and these last went away +with a face as long as the Wheal Bang's own prospectus, growling out a +prophecy of all manner of ill-fortune for it. Their grapes were sour. +The shares were up in the market to a fabulous premium, and a man +might take half a dozen into Capel Court, and come out of it with his +pockets stuffed full of gold. + +Mark Cray's money had effected wonders, or rather his wife's; for hers +it was. A great many of these magnificent projects are nipped ignobly +in the bud through want of a little ready money to set them fairly +going. But for Mrs. Cray's thousands, Mr. Barker's mine of gold might +never have been heard of by the world, and Mr. Barker's name had not +attained to its enviable preeminence. These thousands did it all. They +got up the company, they set the mine a-working, they paid for the +costly offices, they dazzled the eyes of the public, they gave earnest +of present wealth, they seemed to assure future success. Certainly, if +any mine had ever a fair prospect of realising a golden fruition, it +appeared to be the Great Wheal Bang. The working of it had begun most +promisingly, and every success was fairly looked for. In calling it a +gold mine just now, you of course understood that I was speaking +metaphorically; for gold mines are not yet common among us, even in +Wales. This very valuable mine (as it could but turn out to be) was not +rich in gold, but in lead; and, as we all know, the one is speedily +converted into the other. The previous autumn, in consequence of some +trifling difficulty in London, Mr. Barker found it convenient to enter +on a temporary sojourn at a distance; and he penetrated to a remote +district of South Wales. While there, with the good luck which that +gentleman believed he was born to and should some time realise, a vein +of lead was discovered of a most promising nature. He contrived to +secure a large interest in it, and undertook to get up a company for +the working of it. + +How he would lave accomplished this, or whether he ever would have +accomplished it, is doubtful, had he not found a coadjutor in Mark +Cray, and an aid in Mark's money. Mark resigned the control of the +money to him, and Mr. Barker did not spare it. No earthly adjunct was +wanting to ensure the success of the scheme, provided the mine only +realised its present promises. + +Has anybody who may happen to read this ever assisted in getting a +newly-discovered mine into working order? If so, he may remember the +money it cost. How it ran out of the hands like water that is poured +through a broad-necked funnel, disappearing nobody knew where, and +leaving little trace behind! How the pounds went, and the hundreds +went, and the thousands went--if he was fortunate enough to possess +thousands to go--he may not recollect without wincing, to this hour. +Mark Cray's thousands went. But ere they had come quite to an end, the +Great Wheal Bang Company was in full operation in London, the +shareholders had answered to their calls, and the money was flowing +in. + +No lack of money to be feared then. And the operations at the mine +were conducted on a much grander scale than heretofore, and the +returns were certain to be without parallel, and Mr. Barker was in a +glow of triumph, and Mark Cray in a state of ecstatic delight, and the +lucky shareholders leaped up sixteen scales in the ladder of society. +How many set up carriages on the strength of their future riches it is +beyond my power to tell. The money flowed down to the mine, and the +works went on beautifully, and the specimens of ore that came up to +town were said to be more valuable than any ore ever was before. As to +Mr. Barker and Mark, their expenses were not deemed worthy of a +thought: with all that money going out weekly for the mine, personal +expenditure was but as a drop of water in the ocean, and of course it +was unnecessary to think of limiting it. Mrs. Cray, with her vanity +and her love of display, was in the seventh heaven; while Mark looked +back to his prosy life at Hallingham and wondered how he had endured +it. He wondered how any of the doctors left there endured it, and +pitied them from his heart. The thousand a-year or so he once thought +to enter upon as successor to Dr. Davenal was recollected with +contempt now. + +This much must be said for the Great Wheal Bang Company--that its +projectors were at least honest in their belief of its genuineness. In +that they differed from some other companies we have heard of, which +have turned out to be nothing but a swindle--if you will excuse the +word--from the earliest commencement, the very first dawning dream of +their projectors. Mr. Barker was of that strangely sanguine nature +which sees a fortune in the wildest scheme, and plunges head and heart +and creed into the most improbable speculation: Mark, an utter tyro in +mines and all that concerns them, including companies, saw only with +Barker's eyes. When Mr. Barker assured the entranced shareholders that +one hundred pounds put into the Great Wheal Bang would multiply +tenfold and tenfold, he spoke only the sanguine belief of his heart. +When Mark Cray declared to his brother Oswald that a thousand pounds +embarked in it by him would make him a rich man for life, he asserted +the honest truth according to his conviction. No wonder the two +gentlemen-promoters were eloquent. + +Mark had made several visits to the scene of the mines, and he came +back each time with (if possible) renewed assurance of the brilliant +future; with increased ardour. Had the Chancellor of the Exchequer +obligingly made Mark an impromptu present of a hundred thousand +pounds, Mark would have flung it broadcast into the mine, did the mine +thirst for it. He did not understand these things in the least; and +the perpetual bustle going on, the number of the miners, even the very +money paid in wages and suchlike expenses, were to Mark only an +earnest of the rich returns that were to come hereafter. Mark would go +back to London in a glowing state, and send his friends the +shareholders into a fever, longing to realise the prosperity that +seemed so close at hand. The weekly reports overshadowed other weekly +reports with envy, and created a _furore_ in the speculating world. +Some of the shareholders who understood mines, or thought they did, +better than Mark, went down to the Principality, and examined into the +state of things for themselves; they found them quite satisfactory, +and came away as charmed as Mark. In point of fact, prospects did look +well; the lead was of an unusually good quality, and there seemed no +reason whatever to anticipate anything but success. Caroline had +accompanied her husband once to the mines; but the stay there (putting +prospects aside) did not please her: it was "rough," she told Mark, +and it was very dull at the little inn; and she was glad to come away +from it all ere the second day was over. + +Perhaps the only person within the circle of Mark Cray's acquaintance +not bitten by the Wheal Bang fever was Miss Davenal. Even Oswald Cray +was to succumb at last. He would not become a shareholder; he was too +cautious a man to enter upon possible future liabilities, the extent +of which no human being could foretell: but he did feel inclined to +put a thousand pounds into Mark's hands, and tell him to do the best +with it. It may almost be said that Oswald was worried into doing +this. Mark would not let him rest. At the onset of the affair, when +the glorious prospects of the Wheal Bang were first astonishing the +world, Mark had urged Oswald to become one of them; a director or at +least a shareholder; but Oswald had turned a deaf ear. He felt greatly +vexed at Mark's imprudence at abandoning Hallingham and his +profession, leaving a certainty for an uncertainty: he felt more than +vexed at the manner in which Mrs. Cray's money was disposed of, so +entirely opposed to the dying injunction of Dr. Davenal, so opposed +(Oswald deemed) to all wisdom and prudence; and he set his face +resolutely against the Wheal Bang. But Oswald was but mortal. As the +weeks and months went on, and the mines became to all appearance +valuable, the company flourishing, and Mark, in conjunction with +others, dinned for ever into his ear the fortune he might make at it, +Oswald began to waver. He had a thousand pounds laid by, and he felt +half inclined to risk it; Mark over-persuaded him; and his visit to +the Messrs. Knollys's office the day he encountered Sara Davenal was +for the purpose of making certain inquiries of those gentlemen +relating to the Wheal Bang. + +Not so with Miss Bettina Davenal She set her face resolutely against +the Great Wheal Bang from the first, and nothing turned her. She had +never forgiven Mark and his wife for quitting Hallingham, and her +reproaches to them could not cease. The apparent prosperity of the +Great Wheal Bang changed not her opinion in the least. Mark asked her +once whether she would take shares in it, and produced a Wheal Bang +prospectus to point to its merits. She angrily replied that she would +as soon throw her money into the Thames, that it would not be a surer +way of getting rid of it, and rang the bell for Mark and his +prospectus to be shown out of her house. + +Mark Cray sat in the board room at the city offices of the Great Wheal +Bang. A noble room, the cloth on its long table of the freshest green +and the finest texture. Mark leaned his elbow upon this cloth as he +talked and laughed with some of the friends of the Great Wheal Bang, +who were getting rich so easily. It was not a board day; but visitors +were numerous at all times. + +"I had a line from him this morning," said Mark, continuing +the conversation. "Spirits? I should think he does write in +spirits!--what are you talking of? They are getting up quantities of +ore now. It will soon be ready for the market." + +"And its quality does not deteriorate?" asked Mark's immediate +listener, a middle-aged gentleman with wise-looking spectacles on his +nose. + +"Deteriorate!" repeated Mark. "But you shall see the letter." He began +to turn over the pipers on the table, and the diamond ring on his +little finger, a hundred-guinea investment of his, began to show out +the colours of a prism in its glittering brilliancy. + +"It is of no consequence," returned the gentleman, when Mark could not +readily find it. "I can take your word. When does Barker come up +again?" + +"Today or tomorrow; I am not sure which. I should like you to have +seen his letter, though it is but a line or two. The only motive for +our fresh call upon the shareholders is to hasten the operations, and +so speed the returns. With more capital afloat we can increase the +workers at the mine, and bring the ore out more quickly." + +"It was to have been in the market by this." + +"One cannot calculate to a day. It won't be long now; and its +richness, when it does come, will astonish the world. Do just as you +like: take the shares or leave them. This gentleman would not have had +them to dispose of but that he has urgent need of the money. He is +over in Austria now, and has written to me: he is an old friend of +mine." + +"I'd not hesitate a moment to take them were it my own money; I wish I +had more to embark in it. But this is money belonging to my wards; and +their relatives are so anxious that I should choose a safe investment, +one in which there can be no risk." + +Mark Cray rose from his seat. The word "risk" offended his pride, and +he could only wonder that any one could be idiot enough to use it in +connection with the Great Wheal Bang Mine. But Mark had no need to +solicit now the taking of shares: half London was ready to snap them +up: and he was too great a man to permit his time to be wasted +unnecessarily. + +"Consider over it, if you please, until tomorrow morning, Mr. Gilham," +he said, as he moved away. "You can see the secretary if you come in +before ten. After that the shares will not be disposable." + +There's no safer way to make a buyer eager, than for a seller to be +indifferent; and Mr. Gilham and his spectacles went hastening after +Mark, ready to close the bargain. But Mark was already the centre of +an eager group, not to be got at again lightly. The next time Mr. +Gilham caught sight of him, he was descending the wide staircase, +surrounded as before by a crowd of attendant worshippers, who were +unwilling to part with the great man and his widely-extending +influence. + +But great men must dine as well as small, and Mr. Cray was hastening +home to that necessary meal. He extricated himself from his friends, +and stepped into his cab that waited at the door: a favourite vehicle +of Mark's, built under his own superintendence, in which he generally +went to and fro morning and evening, driving his blood horse himself. +Glancing at his watch as he dashed along Cheapside, he found it was +considerably later than he had thought, and urged the horse to a +quicker pace. + +For Mr. and Mrs. Cray were expecting friends to dinner that evening. +Dr. Ford of Hallingham and his two daughters were making a short stay +in town, and had been invited by Mark and his wife--neither of them +loth to show off their new grandeur, and to send it to be talked about +in Hallingham. + +Suddenly Mark threw the horse nearly on his haunches by the violence +with which he pulled him up. Oswald Cray was on the pavement. He +advanced to Mark at the latter's sign. + +"Hare you decided about the thousand pounds, Oswald?" + +"Partially. I went down to Knollys's this morning, and they recommend +the thing strongly. But I have worked hard for my money, Mark, and +don't care to lose it." + +"Lose it!" scornfully returned Mark. "The Great Wheal Bang won't be a +losing concern. Look here, Oswald! I have but one motive in pressing +the matter upon you: this mine of wealth has come flowing into my +hands, and I do consider it a great pity that you, my only brother, +should not reap some benefit from it. Others, strangers, are making +their thousands and thousands--or will make them; and it's nothing but +wilful blindness for you to let it slip through your fingers. It's +obstinate folly, Oswald. Give me the thousand pounds, and I'll soon +make you ten thousand." + +"The fact is, Mark, I cannot feel so positively sure of its turning +out well as you do." + +"Oswald, I tell you _that it will_. I and Barker have means of knowing +facts connected with the mine that I don't speak of, even to you. As I +assured you the other day, so I repeat it; your money cannot be lost. +It is a perfectly sure and safe investment; I will answer for it with +my life. Will you come home and dine with us?" + +"I have dined." + +"Dined!" echoed Mark, rather scornfully, for he was learning to +despise any but the most fashionable hours--as many another newly-made +great man has learnt before him. "Come round in the evening, then, and +see old Ford of Hallingham. Barker will be there, I expect, and we can +talk this over further." + +Mark Cray touched his horse, and the cab and its freight bounded off. +Mark did not draw rein again until Grosvenor Place was reached. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. +A SLIGHT CHECK. + + +The house was blazing with light, every window bright with it. Mrs. +Cray loved pomp and vanity in all their forms, and she generally +caused her rooms to be lighted with the first glimmer of twilight. +Mark Cray stepped into his handsome hall and was received by a couple +of footmen. Flinging his hat to one, his gloves to another, he bounded +upstairs to his dressing-room, conscious that he was keeping the +dinner and his guests waiting. + +Did Mark Cray ever cast a sigh of regret to the simple life at +Hallingham, when he and his wife used to sit down to mutton cutlets +and a pudding, and think the fare good enough? Did _she_ regret it at +any odd moment? Not yet. Dress and dinners, with expense of other +sorts, bring a fascination with them all too enthralling to the +senses. How they pall upon the wearied spirit in time, how they deaden +the heart and debase the intellect, let those answer who have become +their slaves; but Mark Cray and his wife had not reached that period +of weariness yet. You may be very sure, knowing what you do know of +the world and the generality of people who populate it, that Mr. and +Mrs. Cray wanted not for what is called society. The great projector +of the great Wheal Bang Company, holding in his own hands the power to +make others rich, was not likely to lack adulation in his private +capacity any more than in his public one, and he and his wife drank +their fill of it. Mark's mind was shallow, and his head tolerably +empty, but he was sufficiently attractive in manners to win his way in +society, even without the adjunct just mentioned. Mark was looked upon +as of good connections also; for it had somehow got reported that he +was a nephew of the proud Baronet of Thorndyke. Perhaps it may be +forgiven to poor empty-headed Mark that he held his tongue from +contradicting it, and suffered the world to think he was of the family +of that great man. As to Caroline, people were in love with her beauty +and her youth; and the costly extravagances of the house in Grosvenor +Place bore their own charm. Altogether, more guests crowded the doors +of Mr. and Mrs. Cray than the doors could always hold. Many satellites +of the great world, of a position far above the real one of Mark Cray +and his wife, flocked to pay them court; and neither of them was wise +enough to see how unsuitable are extremes, or to discern that the +acquaintance would never have been condescended to but that Mark was +the Great Wheal Bang's powerful chieftain. Therefore it was nothing +unusual for Mark Cray to receive dinner guests at his board; on the +contrary, it would have been a marked circumstance now, had he and his +wife dined alone. + +Mark washed his hands and hurried on his coat, and in a few minutes +was at his dinner-table, his guests on either side of him. One guest +at it Mark could only regard with astonishment, and that was Miss +Davenal. Not that Miss Davenal was not fitted to grace a dinner-table; +no lady more so at her age in the three kingdoms; but she had so +resolutely abstained from honouring Mark's house with her presence +that he had never expected to see her in it again. Caroline said she +should invite her and Sara to meet their old friends the Fords, and +Mark had laughed when he heard it. "She'll never come," he said; "you +might as well invite the lioness from the Zoological Gardens." +However, here she was: she had chosen to come. She sat on Mark's left +hand, her delicate features quite beautiful in their refinement; Miss +Ford was on his right, a shrinking little woman of forty years; Miss +Mary Ford and Sara Davenal were lower down; and the physician, a +short, red-faced, shrivelled man, who talked incessantly and wore +nankeen pantaloons, was next to Caroline. "Put a knife and fork for +Mr. Barker," Mark had said to his servants: but Mr. Barker had not +made his appearance yet. Those were all the guests. + +There is something false about Caroline today. Look at her dress! It +is white watered silk, gleaming with richness, as the dewdrops are +gleaming in the white crape flowers in her hair; and it, the white +silk, is elaborately trimmed with black ruchings and ribbons. That +black, put on by her maid, taking the girl a whole afternoon to do it, +has been added with a motive. Caroline, in her evening dress, has long +put off the mourning for her good uncle, her more than father, dead +though he has been but four months yet; but she is today a little +ashamed of her haste, and she has assumed these black ribbons before +these Hallingham friends and her aunt Bettina, to make believe that +she still wears it. Her violet eyes are intensely bright, and her +cheeks glow with their sweetest and softest carmine. Sara wears a +black crape robe, a little edging of white net only on its low body +and sleeves, and she wears no ornament, except the jet beads on her +neck and arms. The two Miss Fords are in copper-coloured silks made +high: when they saw Mrs. Cray's white silk, fit for the court of our +gracious Queen, they felt uncomfortable, and attempted a sort of +apology that they had brought no evening dress with them to town. + +And the dinner is in accordance with Caroline's attire. Soup, and +fish, and _entrées_, and roasts, and jellies, and sweets, and +fal-lals; and more sorts of wine than the Miss Fords, simple and +plain, could remember afterwards to count; and flowers, and plate, +and servants in abundance: and grandeur enough altogether for the +dining-room of England's Premier. + +It was this state, this show, this expense, that so offended the good +sense (very good always, though sometimes over severe) of Miss Bettina +Davenal, and kept her aloof from Mr. and Mrs. Cray's house. If Mark +really was making the vast amount of money (but it would have taken a +wiser tongue than Mark's to convince her that that usually assumed +fact was not a fallacy), then they ought to be putting it by, she +argued: if they were not making it, if all this was but specious +wealth, soon to pass away and leave only ashes and ruin behind it, +then Mark and Caroline were fit only for a lunatic asylum. In any +point of view, the luxurious appointments of the dinner she saw before +her were entirely out of place for middle-class life: and Miss Bettina +felt an irrepressible prevision that their folly would come home to +them. + +But she knew better than to mar the meeting with any unpleasant +reproaches or forebodings then, and she was as cordial and chatty as +her deafness allowed. It was a real pleasure to meet Hallingham +friends, and Miss Bettina enjoyed herself more than she had ever done +since the doctor's death. + +The entertainment came to an end, and Caroline marshalled her guests +to the glittering drawing-room: glittering with its mirrors, its +chandeliers, and the many lights from its gilded girandoles. Dr. Ford +and Mark followed shortly, and found them drinking coffee. Caroline +and Sara were stealing a minute's private chat together: they had +lived apart of late. + +"How _did_ you get my aunt to come?" Caroline was asking. "We thought +she never intended to honour us here." + +"She came of her own accord. I did not say a word to press it. I have +been so vexed this afternoon, Caroline," resumed Sara, turning to a +different subject. "My aunt has told me finally that she will not have +Dick and Leo up for their holidays." + +Caroline shrugged her pretty shoulders; very much as if Dick and Leo +and their holidays were perfectly indifferent to her. "I don't think I +should, in Aunt Bettina's place. Boys are dreadfully troublesome +animals; and now that--that poor Uncle Richard is not here to keep +them in order--" another shrug finished the sentence. + +"Oh, but that is one reason why I so wish them to come," said Sara, +her voice somewhat tremulous. "I don't expect that they can be had +always; that would be unreasonable; but to stay at school just this +first time after poor papa's death!--it will seem so hard to them. +Caroline, could _you_ not have them up?" + +"_I!_" returned Caroline, amazed at the proposition. + +"You have a large house and plenty of servants. It would be an act of +real kindness." + +"Good gracious, Sara! I'd not have them: I'd not be worried with +those two boys for six weeks if you paid me in gold and diamonds. +They--who's this?" + +The door had opened, and one of the servants was waiting to make an +announcement: + +"Mr. Oswald Cray." + +Caroline ran to meet him. He looked rather surprised at her attire, +and began apologising in a laughing sort of way for his own +morning-coat. He had expected to meet only Barker and Dr. Ford. A +greeting to the Hallingham people, and he went up and held out his +hand to Miss Davenal. + +"You are a great stranger, Mr. Oswald Cray. I did not suppose that the +formal call you made upon me when I settled in town three months ago +was to be your only one." + +"I am a sadly busy man," was his answer. "Offending I fear some of my +best friends through not visiting them. But I can scarcely dare to +call my time my own." + +"Out of town, do you say? Well, that is an excuse of course Sara, +here's Mr. Oswald Cray: you used to know him in Hallingham." + +The blushes tingled on her cheek as Mr. Oswald Cray touched her hand. +Tingled at the thought that it was not the first time they had met +that day. + +"What have you been doing with yourself, Oswald, since I saw you +before dinner!" called out Mark, who was pointing out the beauty of +the paintings on his walls to the Miss Fords. + +"I have been to Pimlico since then." + +"To Pimlico! Oh, I know: to that friend of yours; It strikes me you go +there pretty often." + +"As often as I can spare time for," returned Oswald. + +Mark laughed. Had he possessed that refined regard for the feelings of +others, never wanting in the true gentleman, he had not so spoken. "I +know. But you need not be so close over it, Oswald. That Miss Allister +is a nice girl, is she not?" + +"Very," was the emphatic reply. + +"One to be esteemed. Eh?" + +"As few can be esteemed by me." Oswald spoke in his coldest, most +uncompromising tone: his haughty face turned almost defiantly on Mark. +He was the last man to brook this sort of speech, and in that moment +he despised Mark. Sara had a book in her hand, and she never raised +her drooping eyelids from it. What was it to her now whom he esteemed? +But she _heard:_ all too plainly. + +There was a pause of silence; rather an unpleasant one. It was broken +by Miss Mary Ford. + +"I must not forget to ask after your old servant Watton, Miss Davenal. +Does she like her place? I suppose you see her occasionally." + +"Thank you, I don't like it at all," returned Miss Davenal, hearing +wrongly, as usual. "What was Mark asking you, Mr. Oswald Cray?" + +"Watton is quite well; I saw her this morning," interposed Sara, who +perhaps did not care that Mark's choice of subject should again be +brought forward. Mrs. Cray caught up the words. + +"Saw Watton this morning, Sara! Where did you see her?" + +And the very moment the unlucky admission had left Sara's lips she +knew how thoughtless it was to have made it, and what an undesirable +discussion it might involve. + +"Where did you see Watton?" repeated Mrs. Cray. + +"I had a little business that way, and called upon her," replied Sara. +She was obliged to speak: there was no help for it; and all the room +seemed to be listening to her answer, which she had not time to weigh. + +"Business down that way!" echoed Caroline. "Why, it is in the City! +What business could you have there?" + +"Not much: nothing of moment to you, Caroline;" and Sara, in her +dismay and fear, turned and began talking rapidly to old Dr. Ford. + +"Aunt Bettina," called out Mrs. Cray, in a slow distinct voice, "what +business took Sara to the City this morning? I thought only gentlemen +went there." + +Aunt Bettina heard, and lifted her hand in momentary petulance, as if +the subject angered her. + +"You must not ask me. Sara has her own secrets and goes her own ways +since your uncle's death. I am not allowed to know them." + +Sara looked up to reply, perhaps to defend herself; but she remembered +what was at stake, and forced herself to silence. Better that the +blame should lie upon her! She had caught a momentary glimpse of Mr. +Oswald Cray: he was leaning against a table in the distance, his eyes +fixed upon her, reading every change in her countenance; his own face +stern and impassive. + +What more would have been said or asked was interrupted by the +entrance of another guest. A middle-sized man of thirty, with radish +hair and whiskers, a free manner and voluble tongue. Mark started +forward with a shout of welcome, and introduced him to the strangers. +It was Mr. Barker. + +"I have brought up the grandest news, Cray," he exclaimed, in a state +of excitement. "There's another lode found." + +"No!" echoed Mark, his eyes sparkling. "Another lode?" + +"Dutton came upon it yesterday afternoon after I wrote those few lines +to you. By Jove, gentlemen"--throwing his looks round the room--"I am +afraid to calculate what will be the riches of this mine! Mark, old +fellow, I hope our success won't drive us into Bedlam--as the case has +been with some millionaires." + +Miss Bettina, who had contrived to hear, cleared her throat. "It's a +great deal more likely to drive you into the union, sir." + +It was an unexpected a check to Mr. Barker's enthusiasm that he could +only stare in amazement at Miss Bettina. He had not met her before. +"Never mind her," said Mark, in an undertone, "its only old Bett. And +she's as deaf as a post." + +But Mr. Barker did mind. "Why, ma'am," said he, going close to her, +"what do you mean?" + +"I can't forget a good old proverb that I learnt in my young days, +sir," was her answer: "one that I have seen exemplified times +upon times in my course through life. 'He that would be rich in +twelve months is generally a beggar in six.' I know what good +newly-discovered mines are apt to bring, sir, however promising they +may look." Mr. Barker fairly turned his back upon her; he believed she +must be little better than a lunatic; and gave his attention to Mark +and the more sensible portion of the company. + +"The people are up in arms down about there," he said. "Lots of them +who wrote for shares in the new allotment have not succeeded in +getting any, and I thought they'd have torn me to pieces. _I_ can't +help it. It's a dear impossibility that the whole world can go in for +being rich. If luck falls on one, it doesn't fall on another." + +Dr. Ford, to whom Mr. Barker had seemed to appeal, nodded his head. "I +hear great things of this mine, sir," said he. + +"Great things!" repeated Mr. Barker, as if the words were not +sufficiently expressive. "It is the very grandest thing that England +has seen for many a day. The golden wealth of the Spanish Main is poor +compared to it." + +"I'm sure I hope it will answer." + +"You--hope--it--will--answer!" echoed Mr. Barker, his red face going +rather purple. "Why, sir, it _has_ answered. It _is_ answering. I +could take my interest in it into the money market tomorrow, and sell +it for half a million of money. Answer!" + +Oswald Cray came nearer. "When shall you begin to realise?" he +inquired. + +"In about six weeks from this." + +"Six weeks! Really to realise?" + +"We might get some loads off before, if we chose, but we don't care to +begin until the sales can go on uninterruptedly. The lead is coming up +beautifully; vast quantities of it. You never saw such lead. It bangs +all other in the locality into fits." + +Mr. Barker in his joyous excitement was scarcely choice in his +mode of speech. He was not particularly so at any time. He rubbed +his hands--which looked as red as if they had been dining for ore--one +against another. + +"A fellow came up to the place--Lord What's-his-name's agent--and +began handling the specimens. 'What sort of ore d'ye call this?' he +asked. 'The best that ever was dug,' some of our men answered him. +'And so it is,' said he: 'we can't get such as this out of our pit.' +No more they can: not an owner of 'em in all Wales." + +"But you will not be selling freely in six weeks?" returned Oswald. +"It is impossible." + +"Impossible, is it?" retorted Mr. Barker. "It would be in most cases, +I grant you; it's not in ours. You go and look at the thousands of men +on the works. The Great Chwddyn mine doesn't deal in impossibilities." + +"Would you be so good as tell me what you call that word, sir?" asked +the physician, putting his hand to his ear. "We can't get at the +pronunciation of it at Hallingham." + +"And we can't here," returned easy Mr. Barker. "One calls it one thing +and one another. As to trying to speak it like the natives, nobody +can. _We_ call it the Great Wheal Bang up here. Not that it's at all +appropriate or correct to do so, but one can't be breaking one's teeth +over the other. You see--Halloa! what's this? For me?" + +One of Mark's servants had entered with a telegraphic dispatch. It was +addressed to Mr. Barker. + +"Your man has brought it round from Piccadilly, sir. He thought it +might be of moment." + +"Let's see. Where's it from?--Wales? Ay. Another lode discovered, I'll +be bound!" + +Mr. Barker carried the paper across the room, and opened it under the +lights of a girandole. He stared at it more than read it; stared at +the words as if unable to understand them: and a curious expression of +puzzled bewilderment, half wonder, half dismay, struggled to his face. +Mark Cray had come to his side, all eagerness; and Oswald was watching +them from the distance. + +"_Is_ it another lode, Barker?" + +"Hush! There has been a slight irruption of water," whispered Barker, +thrusting the paper into his pocket. "Good heavens! that would floor +us at once." + +Mark Cray's mouth dropped. He stared as helplessly at Mr. Barker as +the latter had stared at the dispatch. The sight of his face awoke Mr. +Barker's caution. + +"For goodness' sake, Cray, don't look like that! They'll see you, and +suspect something. _This_ must be kept dark, if possible. I daresay +it's nothing. I'll go back again tonight." + +He turned away with a beaming face to the company, laughing merrily, +talking gaily. They might have well deemed that two fresh lodes had +been discovered instead of one. Mark, not quite so quick in recovering +his equanimity, stayed where he was before the girandole, looking in +it in an absent sort of manner, and pushing his hair back +mechanically. Perhaps this was the first time that even the +_possibility_ of failure had come close to Mark, face to face. + +Barker was the first of the guests to retire, and Mark left the room +with him. As the latter was returning to it he met his brother, who +was also departing. + +"Not going yet, Oswald? What a one you are!--Afraid of being in the +streets late, it's my belief. I say! when am I to have the thousand +pounds?" + +"My mind is not quite made up yet," was the answer, a rather +unexpected one to Mark's ears. "Mark, did Barker get any bad news +tonight?" + +"Bad news!" repeated Mark, as if quite at a loss to know what could be +meant. + +"By that dispatch from Wales?" + +"Not at all," returned Mr. Mark, volubly. "He had forgotten to leave +some instructions behind him, so they telegraphed. What put your head +upon bad news?" + +"Barker's countenance as he read the dispatch; and yours also when you +joined him. You both looked as though some great calamity had +occurred." + +Mark laughed blithely. "Oswald, old fellow, you were always inclined +to be fanciful. The mine is a glorious mine, and you'll be a blind +booby if you don't secure some benefit in it. I'll answer for the +safety of the investment with--with--my life," concluded Mark, +speaking rather strongly in his loss for a simile. "Can't you rely +upon me?" + +O Mark Cray! His protestations of the "safety" were excusable before, +when he believed what he said: but they were not now. Since that +ominous message arrived his very heart had been quaking within him. In +the few confidential words he had just exchanged with Barker on going +out the latter had said: "We must get all the money we can, for we +shall want it. Water, no matter how slight the irruption, plays the +very deuce with the costs of a mine." And Mark Cray, to avert, or help +to avert, or to conceal the calamity, was quite ready to sacrifice his +own good faith and the money of his brother. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. +IN THE TEMPLE GARDENS. + + +You have heard and read of those false promises that keep faith to +the eye and break it to the spirit, bringing a flood-tide of anguish +in their train. As such may be described the realisation of the +long-deferred hope--the money--so anxiously expected by Sara Davenal. +It came in due course, after a little more waiting; that is, the order +to receive it was sent to her: but it did not bring pleasure with it. +For the sales had not realised so much as was anticipated. Do they +ever realise as much? Dr. Davenal had expected there would be about +three thousand pounds: five hundred over and above the sum owing. But +the money fell short by two hundred pounds even of this sum: and there +was not enough to pay Mr. Alfred King. + +O it was a great burthen to be thrown upon this girl in her early +years, in her solitary loneliness! When the news came, and the small +sum of money stared her in the face in figures all black and white, +she looked around her in despondency. She felt that she had no friend, +save God. + +Feeling half-hopeless, Sara sat down and considered what was to be +done. Two thousand three hundred pounds certainly were not two +thousand five hundred, and she had little expectation that Mr. Alfred +King would be satisfied with it. An ordinary creditor, whose debt was +a legitimate one, would of course not remit two hundred pounds: but +this debt was different, for she had every reason to believe it was no +legitimate debt, but money paid to purchase silence. Then a voice +whispered her they would be all the less likely to remit it; they +would hold out for it to to the last farthing. _Whose_ silence she +could not tell. But for the mysterious hint of Mr. Alfred King that +others were interested in this business she might have thought it was +his alone. The disagreeable impression left upon her mind by that +interview had not in the least worn away: she greatly disliked Mr. +Alfred King; she very greatly disliked the thought of visiting him +again. + +"Mark must help me," she said. "He is rolling in wealth, and two +hundred pounds will not be much to him. It will be my own money. His +covenant with my dear papa was to pay me three hundred pounds yearly +for five years, and he has not begun the payment yet." Quite true Mr. +Mark Cray had not yet handed over a shilling of the covenant money. +Miss Davenal had pressed for some of it at the time of Mark's quitting +Hallingham, but Mark had declined. She had brought it under his notice +since, and Mark had made excuses still. He was not bound to pay it +until the expiry of the year subsequent to Dr. Davenal's death, he +said, and it would be most convenient to him to pay it then. Too proud +to press the matter further for her niece, Miss Davenal contented +herself with a dignified silence: but she did wonder whether it was +that Mark would not or could not pay it. If he could not, why then how +hollow, how false was all the show and luxury they had entered on in +Grosvenor Place! The real truth of the matter was, Mark's expenses of +one kind or another were so great that he had no ready money to spare; +on the contrary, he was often at positive fault for some. And Mark was +not a willing paymaster at the best of times: these careless +spendthrift men frequently are not. + +Yet the Great Wheal Bang was flourishing: how flourishing its elated +shareholders could tell you; and Oswald Cray, relying on the +assurances of his brother, had embarked his thousand in it. That +alarming dispatch, with its still more alarming news, had turned out +to be more smoke than fire; and when Mr. Barker reached the mine, +whither he had hurried with all speed, he found the danger over. There +had been an irruption of water, but a very slight one; it did not +transpire beyond the locality: and Barker and Mark kept the secret +well from the shareholders. + +Sara went to Mark. She told him, speaking very gravely, that she had +urgent need of two hundred pounds to complete some arrangements of +necessity left in her charge by her father. Mark's answer was that he +could not help her then; that it was not in his power. Perhaps he +could not. They had not yet begun to realise, for that untoward +accident, slight as it was, had served to retard the works, and there +was no lead yet in the market. A short while, Mark said, and she might +come to him for two thousand, and welcome, if it would be of any +service to her. Large promises! But Mark had always dealt in such. + +Sara had nowhere else to turn to for money in the wide world. Her aunt +she knew could not help her; Miss Davenal's income was of a certain +extent only, and their living absorbed it. So she wrote to Mr. Alfred +King, and he appointed a day to meet her in Essex Street. + +Once more, once more, she had to go forth to the unpleasant interview. +All was unpleasant connected with it; the object, the journey, the +very house, and Mr. Alfred King himself: but she was obeying the +command of her dead father, she was seeking to save the reputation, +perhaps the life, of her living brother; and Sara Davenal was not one +to shrink on her own account from responsibilities such as these. + +But surely the spirit of mischief was in it all? It seemed like an +evil fate upon her--at least, so she thought in her vexation. For on +this day, as on the other, she encountered Mr. Oswald Cray. + +Not at the offices, but at the gate of the Temple garden. It occurred +in this way. As before, she found she had to wait a considerable time +before she could see Alfred King, and she wandered into the quiet +courts of the Temple, and came to the larger garden. + +The gate-keeper would not admit her to it at first; she had not the +_entrée_, he said; but she told him her case: that she was a stranger, +and had to wait an hour and a half to keep an appointment at a +solicitor's in Essex Street. Her sweet face and her plaintive +tone--for the voice catches the mind's sorrow--won him over, and, +though he grumbled a little, he let her enter. It was peaceful there; +shut in from the world's turmoil: the grass was green, and the paths +were smooth; and Sara sat on the bench alone, and watched the river +steamers as they passed and repassed on the Thames. + +It was in leaving the gardens that she encountered Mr. Oswald Cray. He +had business that day with a barrister in chambers, and was passing +the gate as she was leaving it. Sara shrank within the gate again, in +the hope that he might not accost her. + +It was a vain hope. Surprised to see her there, so far from home and +alone, he inquired the reason in the moment's impulse. The crimson +blush, called into her face at the meeting, faded to paleness as she +answered: "An appointment." She could not say she was there for +pleasure. + +And, besides, that utter weariness of spirit, when we no longer +struggle against fate, had grown to be hers. It seemed of little +moment whether he knew her errand that day or not: a faintness of +heart, not unlike despair, was weakening her energies. + +"An appointment?" he repeated. "Not at the place where I saw you +before? Not with Mr. Alfred King?" + +"Yes, that is where I am going," she replied, feeling she could not +battle against the questions. "I was to have seen Mr. Allred King at +twelve; but I was late, and so I have to wait for him." + +"But it is not expedient that you should go there," said Oswald. + +"I must go there," she answered, all too energetically in her +desperation. "Were the interview to lead to--to my death, and I knew +that it would, I should go." + +The words, so unlike _her_ calm good sense; the tone so full of +hopeless sorrow, told Oswald how full of grief must be the heart they +came from. They had strolled, unconsciously perhaps, down the broad +walk of the garden, and were now passing a bench. "Will you sit down +for a minute," he asked, "while I say a few words to you?" + +"Yes: if I have time. My appointment is for two o'clock, and I wish to +be there rather before than after it." + +He took out his watch and showed it to her. There was plenty of time +to spare. + +"Have you to keep these appointments often?" + +"I never kept but the one you know of. I hope--I am not sure--but I +hope that the one today will be all I shall have to keep. It is a +singular chance--that you should meet me on both days!" + +"I don't think anything in the world happens by chance," gravely +observed Oswald. "Do you recollect the interview I had with you at +your house, just after your father's death?" he resumed, after a +pause. + +Sara turned her face to him in her surprise. "O yes." + +"And do you remember," he continued, his voice assuming its sincerest +and tenderest tone, "what I said at that interview?--That nothing +would give me so much pleasure as to be your _friend_, should you +require one. Sara--forgive me if I go back for a moment to our old +familiar forms of speech--let me prove myself one now!" + +"In what manner?" she asked, after some moments of hesitation. + +"If I am able to understand anything of this business you need one. +You seem to stand alone in it; no one to counsel you, no one to help." + +"It is true," she said, "I have to stand in it alone. I must stand in +it alone." + +"Suffer _me_ to be, so far, your friend." + +She faintly shook her head. "You could not be." + +"It is true that--that--the period has not arrived, perhaps for either +of us, when we had contemplated such a friendship might begin. But we +must waive that: necessity alters cases. Sara, let me serve you! I ask +it in the name of Dr. Davenal. Surely you can have no objection?" + +Her eyes were swimming in tears as she looked straight before her on +the gravel path. "In anything but this I should only be too thankful. +Sometimes I feel that I am left without a friend in the wide world." + +"Why not in this?" + +"Because it is a matter that I may not confide to any one. It +is"--she lowered her voice--"a secret." + +"I will be true as steel. No matter what dishonour may be in it, it +shall be held sacred within my breast; never betrayed, never spoken +of. I judge that it is not a pleasant secret; therefore I use the word +dishonour. It is more fitting that I should be engaged in this matter +than you." + +For a single moment the temptation came over her to tell him what it +was: just as the temptation to tell him the secret connected with Lady +Oswald's death had once momentarily assailed Dr. Davenal. But it +passed away almost with the thought. She could not speak of her +brother's fault; she _could not_. Neither might she delegate to +another the last directions left to her by her father. Safely grasped +in her hand she held those sealed papers left by Dr. Davenal; how +could she transfer them even to Oswald Cray? + +"I wish I could tell it you!" she said in a tone of pain. "But I +cannot; it is not possible. You will have guessed that this is not my +own secret. It is a charge that was left to me by my dear father when +he was dying: and I am obliged to fulfil it. He had no one to leave it +to but me." + +"Your brother being away. I can understand so much. Suffer me to stand +to you, in this, in your brother's place. I am sure Captain Davenal +would wish it." + +The faint colour of dread came into her cheeks as she thought how far +he would be from wishing this discussed with Mr. Oswald Cray. "I can't +tell it," she murmured. + +Oswald turned his gaze upon her, his dark blue eyes never more +earnest, more eager. + +"Will you let me urge this according to the dictates of common-sense? +Is it fit that you, being what you are, a lady--young, refined, +inexperienced--should be dancing attendance at Jones and Green's +offices; men who do not bear too good a reputation in the legal world, +to meet principally Mr. Alfred King, a man who bears a worse?" + +The crimson shone in her cheeks. Put in this way it was anything but +pleasant to the refinement of which he spoke. "I know, I know," she +said impulsively. "I felt terribly the going there the day you saw me; +I feel it again now. But indeed I cannot help myself. It was a solemn +charge left me by my father, and in going through with it I am but +doing my duty. God is over me," she simply added. "I have had a great +deal to try me, a great deal to bear! but I am striving to do right +under Him." + +Her lip quivered as she spoke, and she paused from emotion. It was too +much for the stoic philosophy of Oswald Cray. All the old feelings +pent up so long, buried only, not subdued, resumed their sway with +uncontrollable force, like a torrent let loose down a mountain's side. +He caught her hands in his; he bent his face near to hers, its whole +expression one of the deepest love; his persuasive voice, trembling +with agitation, was sunk to the softest whisper. + +"Sara, my dearest, I still love you better than anything on earth. +Heaven knows how I have striven to forget you since that cloud fell +upon us. It has been of no use. Bereft of you, life is but one long +dreary path, growing more cruelly monotonous day by day." + +Her heart beat wildly, and for one brief interval a hope, sweeter than +any earthly dream, stole into it like a golden ray of sunshine. Only +for an instant: she knew that it was but so much deceit, for him as +for her. + +"Are there no means by which we may forget that cloud and return to +the past?" he resumed; his voice hoarse with its emotion, and so low +in tone that she could scarcely hear it. "Better to sacrifice a little +prejudice than to pass a whole life in dissatisfied pain. Let the +dishonour--pardon me for thus alluding to it--rest with the dead: +perhaps it has been wrong from the first to make it our sorrow." + +She looked at him, not quite understanding. He saw the doubt. + +"Be my wife, Sara. I can then take these troubles upon me as my legal +right. On my sacred word of honour, I will never cast a reproach to +the past, so much as in thought. No! I will not let your hands go +until you tell me by word of mouth what I _know_--that your heart is +mine still; that we _cannot_ be faithless one to the other." + +She felt faint with the moment's pain. The dewdrops of emotion were +gathering on her face, and he would not loose her hands that she might +wipe them away. + +"If we never were true to each other, let us be so now," he went on. +"It is too solemn a moment for equivocation: it is no time for us to +pretend ignorance of our mutual love." + +It was indeed no time for equivocation or for doubt. Sara rose +superior to it. A reticence that might have been observed at another +time was forgotten now in her emotion and pain. + +"I have not been faithless: perhaps I never shall be. But we can never +be more to each other than we are now. The dishonour clings to me, and +always will cling." + +"Sara! don't I say that I will forget it?" + +"No; I would never bring the possibility of--of--of--I think you do +not understand," she broke off, lifting her white face to his. "It was +not only dishonour." + +"What else?" + +"Crime." A change passed over his countenance as he raised his head, +which had been bent to catch the word. Soon it brightened again. Never +perhaps had his besetting sin been so quiescent: but pride, even such +pride as Oswald Cray's, is a less strong passion than love. + +"It was not _your_ crime, Sara. And it has passed away." + +"It has not passed." + +"Not passed!" + +"Not yet. There's danger still." + +Oswald bit his lip. "Danger of what?" + +"Of--of--exposure," she faintly said. "Do not force me to say more. +Only believe one thing--that I can never be your wife. Do you think if +there were no insuperable barrier that _I_ should have made one?" she +added, her face flushing a hot crimson. "Forgive me: I scarcely know +what I say: but you wished that we should speak without reserve." + +"Sara, let me fully understand. Do you imply that there exists any +good and substantial reason _still_, call it insuperable barrier if +you will, why you ought not to become my wife? Wait a moment. Before +you give an answer remember that to my heart it is fraught with either +life or death." + +"I do not imply it; I fully state it. Oh, don't visit it upon me!" she +exclaimed, as his face seemed to be assuming its old haughtiness. "It +is not my fault. I did not work the disgrace." + +"No," he answered, soothingly, "it is not your fault. Forgive me," he +softly whispered. "The blow to me is heavy." + +"It may pass for you. It will pass. You will form new friendships, new +ties, and forget the old. Better that it should be so." + +"But never a new love! Never one who will be to me what the other has +been." + +She rose from her seat. Oswald drew her down on it again. + +"As I hinted just now, Sara, the time when we may mix freely as +friends has not yet come; it would not do for either of us. But I must +make a last appeal to you--suffer me to be your friend in this one +strait. Is it not _possible_ that I can act for you?" + +"It is not possible. There are certain reasons why neither you nor +anybody else can do this; and, putting these aside, there is the +weighty one that it was the charge bequeathed to me, and to me alone, +by my dying father. Thank you for all," she whispered, as she suddenly +rose and held out her hand, her soft dark eyes speaking their thanks +to his. + +He rose also. He did not release her hand, but placed it within his +arm to lead her up the solitary path. If those grave, middle-aged +counsel, deep in their briefs behind the dusty windows opposite, had +glanced out at the interview, it probably reminded them of their own +sweet spring-time. + +Sara withdrew her hand at the garden-gate, but he walked by her side +through the courts to Essex Street. She halted there to say adieu. + +"I suppose I must not ask to accompany you?" + +She shook her head. "I must be alone." + +"Fare you well then," he said. "May all good angels guard you!" + +Mr. Alfred King was waiting for her. He was evidently not pleased at +two hundred pounds of the sum being missing; but he turned it off upon +the "other parties." They would not accept it, he said, unless paid in +full; and he hinted at consequences to Captain Davenal. He would not +sign the receipt; told Sara it was useless to unseal it; but he did +write a receipt for the present cheque paid. Altogether, it was a less +satisfactory interview than even the former one had been, and Sara +quitted him with a sinking heart. She had not the remotest idea where +to get the money; and a despairing foreboding was upon her that Edward +must yet pay the sacrifice of his crime. + +"How long will they wait?" she asked herself, as she went shivering +up Essex Street. "Suppose they send me word that they will not +wait?--that Edward--oh, if I had but the means to--" + +"Well? Is the thing happily over? You said this might be the last +interview." It was Oswald Cray. He had waited for her. Her mind was +preoccupied with its fears, almost bewildered, and she scarcely knew +what she answered. + +"No! it is not happily over. It is all unhappy, and I am frightened. +The money I took them was--was--" She broke off with a start. +Recollection had come to her. + +"Was what?" he asked. + +"I think I forgot myself;" she murmured, as a burning flush dyed her +face. "My mind is full of trouble. Pray, pardon me, Mr. Oswald Cray." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. +AN IRRUPTION ON MARK CRAY. + + +If anything could exceed the prosperity of the Great Wheal Bang Mine +itself, it was the prosperity of those immediately connected with it. +There was only one little drawback--ready money ran short. It had been +short a long while, and the inconvenience was great in consequence; +but the prolonged inconvenience was now approaching to such a height +that even that sanguine spirit, Barker, even Mark Cray in his +confiding carelessness, felt that something must be done to remedy it. + +Of course the cause of this will be readily divined--that the Great +Wheal Bang's ore was not yet in the market. The heat of summer had +passed, September was in with its soft air and its cool breezes, and +still that valuable ore had not begun to "realise." It was obstinate +ore, and it persisted in giving the greatest possible trouble before +it would come out of its mother earth, where it had been imbedded for +ages and ages. Those who understood the matter best, and the process +of working these mines, tedious at all times, did not consider that +any time was being lost; and it is more than probable that the +impatience of Barker and Mark Cray alone caused the delay to appear +unduly long. + +The money swallowed up by that mine was enormous, and Mark Cray got +half-dismayed at odd moments. The shareholders were growing tired of +the calls upon their pockets; yet they were on the whole confiding +shareholders, believing implicitly in the mine and its final results. +As a natural sequence, the mine's wants being so great, its mouth so +greedy a one, Mark Cray and his friend could have the less money to +play with on their own score: still they managed to secure a little +for absolute personal wants, and tradespeople of all denominations +were eager to supply anything and everything to the great men of the +Great Wheal Bang. How entire was the confidence placed in the mine by +these two masters of it may be seen from the fact of their depriving +themselves of money to pour it into the ever-open chasm. They might so +easily have diverted a little channel into their own pockets! True, it +might not have been quite the honest thing to do, but in these matters +few men are scrupulous. Mark had surreptitiously sent a few shares +into the market and realised the proceeds; but he had done it with +reluctance: he did not care to part with his shares; neither was it +well that the Great Wheal Bang's shares should be afloat. + +Standing at the window of their drawing-room on this balmy September +afternoon were Mark Cray and his wife. The fashionable world were of +course not in London, but Mr. and Mrs. Cray formed an exception--there +is no rule without one, you know. Mark felt that he could not be +absent from those attractive offices in the City, even for a day. It +was well that one of them should be seen there, and Barker was +everlastingly running down into Wales. "Never mind, Carine," he said +to his wife. "We'll take it out next year: we'll have a three-months' +autumn trip in Germany. The money will be rolling in upon us then, and +I need not stick here to keep the shareholders in good humour, as I +have to do now." Carine obediently acquiesced; and she did it with +cheerfulness: she had not been sufficiently long in her new and +luxurious home to care about leaving it. + +But she solaced herself with all the gaiety that was obtainable within +reach. Drives out of town by day, and the theatre at night, or some +other amusement accessible in September. On this day they had been to +a wedding at the house of some new friends at Richmond; and they had +but now returned. If you look out you may see the fine carriage with +its four grey horses just turning from the door, for Caroline, +capricious Caroline, wayward and whimsical as a child, had stepped out +of it undecided whether to go out again and drive in the Park before +dinner. So she kept the carriage waiting until she was pleased to +decide not to go. + +"I am a little tired, Mark, and they'd be ever so long taking out +those post-horses and putting in our own," she said to her husband. +"We could never go in the Park with four horses and postboys wearing +white favours. Empty as the drive is, we should have a crowd round +us." + +"Taking you for the bride; and a very pretty one!" returned Mark, +gallantly. + +Caroline laughed; a little all-conscious laugh of vanity. She laid her +beautiful bonnet of real lace and marabouts--and for which the +milliner would assuredly charge £10--on a side-table, and threw off +her costly white lace mantle. The folds of her silk dress, its colour +the delicate bloom of the spring lilac, rustled as she went back to +the window. + +"Only think, Mark, we have been married nearly a year! It will be a +year next month." Mark stood with his face close to the window. He was +looking at the trees in the Green Park, their leaves playing in the +golden light of the setting sun. Caroline flirted a few drops on her +handkerchief from the miniature essence-bottle dangling from her +wrist, and raised it to her carmine cheeks. The day's excitement had +brought to them that rich bloom so suspiciously beautiful. + +"I declare there's Barker!" exclaimed Mark. "I thought he'd be in." + +Mr. Barker was dashing up the street in a cab, as fast as the horse's +legs would go. He had been at the offices all day, doing duty for +Mark. He saw them at the window, and gave them a nod as he leaped out. +Mark looked at his watch and found it wanted yet some time to dinner. +They sat down now, all three together, leaving the window to take care +of itself. There was always so much to say when Barker was there. He +talked so fast and so untiringly; present doings and future prospects +were so good; and Caroline was as much at home in it as they were. +They had had a splendid day in the City, Barker said volubly, except +for grumbling. A hundred, or so, groaning old disappointed fellows had +been in, who wanted to embark in the Wheal Bang and make their +fortunes, but there were no shares to be had for love or money, and +they were fit to bite their fingers off. Altogether, nothing could be +more smooth, more delightful than affairs, and Barker had received +news from the mines that morning promising loads upon loads of ore in +a month or so's time. + +Mark rubbed his hands. "I say, Barker, what do you say to a quiet +little dinner at Blackwall tomorrow?" cried he. "I and Carine are +thinking of driving down. Will you come?" + +"Don't mind if I do," returned Barker. "What, time?" + +"Well, not very late. The evenings are not so light as they were. +Suppose we say"---- + +Before the hour had left Mark's lips he was stopped by a commotion. A +sound as of much talking and bumping of boxes in the hall below: of +boxes that appeared to be coming into the house. Caroline went to the +window and saw a cab drawn up to the door, a last trunk being taken +off it, and three band-boxes in a row on the pavement. + +"Why, who can it be?" she exclaimed. + +The question was soon set at rest. A lady in fashionable half-mourning +entered the room and clasped Mark round the neck. Three young ladies +entered after her and clasped Mark also, all three at once, two by the +arms, one by the coat-tails. Mr. Barker's red whiskers stood out in +wonder at the sight, and Caroline's violet eyes opened to their utmost +width. + +"We thought we'd take you by surprise, darling," the elder lady was +saying. "The girls declared it would be delightful. I couldn't afford +any change for them this year, Mark, out of my poor means, and we +determined to pay you a visit for a few days. And so we have come, and +I hope you can take us in." + +"Yes, but don't smother me, all of you at once," was poor Mark's +answer. "I am glad to see you mother; and I am sure my wife--Caroline, +you remember my mother and my sisters." + +It was certainly an imposing number to take a house by storm, and +there was vexation in Mark's eye as he looked deprecatingly at his +wife. But Caroline rose superior to the emergency. She came forward +prettily and gracefully, and welcomed them all with a cordial smile. +Mrs. Cray the elder could not take her eyes from her face: she thought +she had never seen one grown so lovely. She withdrew them at length +and turned them on Mr. Barker. + +But that gentleman scarcely needed an introduction. He was of that +free and easy nature that makes itself at home without one; and in an +incredibly short time, before indeed the strangers had taken their +bonnets off, he was chattering to them as familiarly as though he had +known them for years. They were rather pleasing girls, these sisters +of Mark--Fanny, Margaret, and Nina: very accomplished, very useless, +and bearing about them the tone of good society. + +Leaving Mark to welcome them, we must turn for an instant to the house +of Miss Davenal. Sara was at rest, for she had paid Mr. Alfred King. +In her desperate need--it surely might be called such!---she wrote the +facts of the case to Mr. Wheatley. Not telling him the details, not +saying a word that might not have been disclosed to the whole body of +police themselves, but simply stating to him that she had very urgent +need of this two hundred pounds for her father's sake. The result was, +that Mr. Wheatley sent her the money. But he was not a rich man, and +he candidly told her he could not have done it but for the certainty +there existed of its speedy return to him. Sara lost not a moment in +seeking another and a final interview with Mr. Alfred King. The papers +were given up to her, the receipt signed, all was done as specified by +Dr. Davenal, and the affair and the danger to Edward were alike at an +end. The horrible nightmare on Sara Davenal's days was lifted; the +fear which had been making her old before her time was over. Her +countenance lost its look of wearing pain, and she seemed like a child +again in her freedom from care. + +Yes, the dreadful nightmare was over, and Sara was at rest. In her +immunity from pain, in her renewed happiness, it almost seemed as if +the world might still have charms for her. You can look at her as she +stands in the drawing-room by Miss Davenal's side. It is the same +evening as the one spoken of above, when Mrs. Cray and her daughters +made that irruption upon Mark. Sara is in evening dress--a black +gauze, with a little white net quilling on the low body and sleeves. +Her white cloak lies on the sofa, and she is drawing on some new +lavender gloves. But look at her face! at her cheek's rich colour! at +the sweet smile on the lips, at the bright eye! Is it the anticipated +evening's enjoyment that is calling these forth? No, no; the pleasant +signs spring from a heart at rest: a heart that had long been aching, +worn, _terrified_ with a secret care. + +It was very rare indeed that Miss Davenal went out, but she had +accepted an invitation for dinner that evening. She had a few friends +in London, not new ones (of new ones she had made none); but old +acquaintances of her earlier days. The friend she was going to this +evening, Lady Reid, had been her schoolfellow at Hallingham; they had +grown up together, and Bettina Davenal was her bridesmaid when she +married young Lieutenant Reid, who had then his fortune to make. He +made it out in India, and he came home a colonel and a K.C.B.; came +home only to die, as is the case with too many who have spent their +best days in the Indian empire. His widow lived at Brompton, and Miss +Davenal and she liked nothing better than to spend an hour together +and talk of the days when they were so young and hopeful. How +different, how different to them was the world now! Could it be the +same world? Many of you, my readers, have asked the very question. + +Neal had gone to the livery stables to order round a carriage, for +Miss Bettina had a horror of cabs, and had not put her foot inside one +since the evening of her arrival in London. She stood in her rich +black silk and her cap of that fine white lace called point +d'Angleterre, glancing from the window and talking with Sara. They had +had news from Bombay that afternoon from Edward. Great news! and +perhaps Sara's cheeks owed some of their unusual colour to this. + +Captain Davenal was married. He had fallen in love with a pretty girl +in India, or she had fallen in love with him, and they were married. +She was an only child, he wrote them word, and an heiress; her name +Rose Reid, now Rose Davenal. Miss Davenal felt nearly sure it must be +a niece of her old friend to whom she was that evening engaged. Lady +Reid's late husband had a brother in the civil service at Bombay, +reported to be a rich man, and it was probable this was his daughter. + +"It is just like Edward," she said tartly to Sara, as she watched for +the carriage. "To think that he should marry after a month or two's +acquaintance! He can't have known her much longer." + +"But he says she is so pretty, aunt; so lovable!" was Sara's pleading +answer. "And--if she is an heiress, I am very glad for Edward's sake." + +"Ah," grimly returned Miss Bettina, having as usual heard all awry, +"that's it, no doubt, the money's sake. I don't forget a good old +proverb: 'Marry in haste and repent at leisure!' Here comes the +carriage." + +They went down to it. Neal, all perfection as usual, assisted them in +and took his place by the side of the driver. They were nearly at +their journey's end when, in passing a row of houses, Sara, who +happened to be looking out, saw Oswald Cray at one of the windows: and +by his side a fair face half-hidden by the crimson curtain; the face +of Jane Allister. + +A mist gathered over her eyes and her heart. She looked out still, +mechanically; she saw the name written up as they left the houses +behind them, "Bangalore Terrace;" she answered her aunt's remarks as +before; but the change within her was as if sunshine had given place +to night. + +Why, could she still be cherishing those past hopes? No; never for an +instant. She knew that all was over between her and Oswald Cray; that +he was entirely lost to her. But she could not put away from her the +old feelings and the old love; she could not see him thus in familiar +companionship with another without bitter pangs and wild emotion. +Perhaps Jane Allister was to be his wife! + +Neal left them at Lady Reid's, his orders being to return with the +carriage a quarter before eleven. When he reached home it was dusk; +and Dorcas, attired in her bonnet and shawl, came to him in the +passage, and said she was going out to do a little shopping. + +Neal watched her fairly off and then went indoors. He closed the +shutters of the dining parlour, went up to the drawing-room, where he +set the candle on the table, and closed those shutters also. He took a +leisurely survey of the room, apparently searching for something, and +reading, _en passant_, a note or two left upon the mantelpiece, and +then he took his seat before Sara's desk. + +That little episode, the spoiled lock of the doctor's desk, had taught +him caution; he would not make the same mistake with this. Neal was an +adept at his work: and, by the ingenious use of a penknife and a piece +of wire, the desk was opened. It may be a question how long Neal had +waited for this opportunity. Such a one had not occurred for months: +his ladies out, and Dorcas out; and the house wrapped in the silence +of night, and not likely to be invaded. + +And now a word to my readers. Should there be any among you who may +feel inclined to cavil at this description of Neal's treachery, +deeming it improbable, let me tell you that it is but the simple +truth--a recital of an episode in real life. The reading of the +letters, the opening of the desks, the ferreting propensities, the +treachery altogether, were practised by a retainer in a certain +family, and the mischief wrought was incalculable. It separated those +in spirit who had never been separated before; it gave rise to all +sorts of misconception and ill-feeling; it caused animosity to +prevail between relatives for years: and the worst was--the worst, the +worst!--that some of those relatives were never reconciled again in +this world, for before the truth came to light death had been busy. As +Coleridge says, + + "Whispering tongues can poison truth." + + +What Neal's motive was I cannot tell you. What the motive of that +other one was, was as little to be traced. There was nothing to be +gained by it, so far as could be seen. It may have been that the +prying propensities were innate in both natures; the love of working +mischief inherent in their hearts. Certainly it was the ruling passion +of their lives. The most extraordinary inventions, the strangest +stories, were related by the one: you will find, before you have done +with the other, that they were not abjured by him. + +The first letter Neal came to in the desk--at least, the first he +opened--happened to be one from Mr. Wheatley. By that he learned that +two hundred pounds had been lent to Sara in the summer for the +"completion of the payment she spoke of." Coupled with his +previously-acquired knowledge, Neal came to the conclusion that the +trouble as regarded Captain Davenal was over, and the money paid. The +precise nature of the trouble Neal had never succeeded in arriving at, +but he did know that money had to be paid in secret on his account. +The next letter he came upon was the one received from the Captain +that day: and if Neal had hoped to find groans and trouble and +difficulty in it, he was most completely disappointed. It was one of +the sunniest letters ever read; it spoke of his girl-wife and his own +happiness: not a breath was there in it of care in any shape. Neal was +nonplussed: and the letters did not afford him pleasure. + +"The thing all settled!--the money paid!" he repeated to himself, +revolving the various items of news. "No wonder _she_ has looked +sprightly lately. Why, for months after the doctor's death she seemed +fit to hang herself! I thought some change had come to her. And he is +married, is he!--and has picked up an heiress! I don't like that. Some +folks do have the luck of it in this world. It's a great shame! And +she has no right to be happy, for I know she hates me. I know she +suspects me, that's more. I'll try--I'll _try_ and deal out a little +small coin in exchange. There's always that other thing, thank +goodness; the break with Mr. Oswald Cray. I wonder if she saw him this +evening at that window? I did; and I saw the young lady too. I hope +it's going to be a match, if only to serve out this one?" + +With this charitable wish Mr. Neal resumed his research of the desk. +But nothing more of particular moment turned up, and he soon made it +fast again in his own artistic manner, which defied detection. + +And when Dorcas came in she found Neal, his supper eaten stretched +comfortably before the kitchen fire, taking a dose. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. +WAS SHE NEVER TO BE AT PEACE? + + +News of an unpleasant nature was on its way to Miss Davenal and Sara; +but they sat at breakfast unconscious of its nearness, waited upon by +Neal the immaculate, in all confiding security, and entirely +unsuspicious of that gentleman's desk researches of the previous +evening. A letter came in; it was directed to Miss Davenal in the +handwriting of Dr. Keen. + +"What's a-gate now?" exclaimed Miss Davenal, as she opened it. For it +was not very usual for the doctor to write in the middle of a quarter. + + +"Dear Madam,-- + +"I grieve much to have to inform you that an accident has happened to +your nephew Leopold. It being a half-holiday yesterday afternoon +(granted, according to annual custom, on the auspicious occasion of +Mrs. Keen's birthday), the young gentlemen had leave accorded them to +go into the fields and gather blackberries. Engaged in this (hitherto +deemed harmless) recreation, Leopold unfortunately met with a fall. In +stretching up to reach a high branch, he lost his balance, and fell +from the top of a bank. I fear he may have been pushed, but the boys +appear not to be quite clear upon the point. At any rate, he fell in +some way with his arm doubled under him, and on examination it proved +to be broken. + +"Deeply sorry as I am to be obliged to impart to you this sad news, I +can yet qualify it in some degree by stating that it is a simple +fracture. It was at once set, and the surgeon assures me it will do as +well as possible. Mrs. Keen bids me say that she does not think Master +Leopold has appeared very strong of late; I have remarked myself that +he looks delicate. Master Davenal, I am happy to say, is quite well, +and gives us every satisfaction in his studies, in which he takes +great pleasure. + +"With very kind remembrances from Mrs. Keen to yourself and Miss Sara +Davenal, and best compliments from myself,--I remain, dear Madam, +faithfully yours, John Keen. + +"Miss Davenal." + + +Miss Bettina gave the letter to her niece in an excess of vexation "If +that mischievous Dick was not at the bottom of it, I shall wonder!" +she exclaimed. "He pushed him off in his roughness. He _is_ rough." + +Sara gathered in the words of the letter in silence, with strained +eyes and a beating heart. + +"I'd have every blackberry-tree in the land rooted up, if I had my +will," proceeded Miss Bettina. "Boys are as venturesome as monkeys +when their mouths are in question. They don't care for their clothes +or how they get torn; they don't care for their shirtfronts or how +they get stained; they fight, and quarrel, and climb, and scratch +their hands and faces with the thorns, and all for greediness--that +they may fill themselves with those rubbishing berries. And now they +have caused this mischief! The boy's arm may be weak for life. Yes, if +I had the power, I'd destroy every blackberry-tree that grows. I +should think D. Keen will interdict 'blackberrying' for the future." + +"I wonder how it happened?" said Sara, musingly. + +"So do I," said Miss Bettina, in a tart tone. "One would think the +bank was as high as a house. They'd climb up a house, boys would, if +they thought they should find blackberries growing upon its roof. Ah, +never shall I forget--it has this moment recurred to my mind--Leo's +father coming home in a sorry plight when he was a boy. He went +blackberrying. He went without anybody's knowledge, too, and was +absent for hours, and we grew alarmed at home, as was natural, for he +was but a little fellow of eight. I remember my dear mother feared he +had fallen into some pond, but we children thought Johnny had gone +after the wild-beast caravan, which had been in the town exhibiting +two bears and an elephant. He arrived at home at dusk; and I'm sure he +looked more fit to belong to a caravan than to a gentleman's house. +His knees were out of his trousers, and his brown-holland blouse was +in flounces, and his shirt-frill had three hanging rents in it, and +his hair and face and hands were crimson with the stains, causing my +mother to cry out with fear at the first sight of him. To crown all, +he had filled his new straw hat with the blackberries, and the juice +was dropping through the crown! John does not forget that exploit, I +know, to this day. Your grandpapa gave him a sound whipping and sent +him to bed supperless; not so much for the plight he had put himself +into as for roaming out alone and frightening my dear mother. Johnny +was ill for three days afterwards with stomach-ache, from the quantity +he had devoured. _He_ remembers blackberrying, I know; and I should +think Mr. Leo will, after this." + +"I hope his arm will soon be well!" + +"Dr. Keen might have mentioned what surgeon was attending to it! if +Mark Cray had remained at Hallingham," continued Miss Bettina, very +sharply--for it was impossible for her to speak of that exit of Mark's +without sharpness--"he might have gone over by rail, and seen that it +was being properly----What do you say, Neal?" + +Miss Bettina's interruption was caused by the entrance of Neal. Mrs. +Cray's maid had come round, and was waiting to speak to Miss Sara. + +"Let her come in," said Miss Bettina. + +The tone was as sharp a one as that just given to the absent Mark. +Caroline's maid, a remarkably fashionable damsel, did not reign in the +favour of Miss Bettina. She came in in obedience to orders; a pink +gauze bonnet on the back of her head, and a pair of dirty and very +tight straw-coloured gloves strained on her hands. Miss Bettina's +countenance lost none of its severity as she surveyed her. + +"What do you want, Long?" + +"If you please, mem, my message is to Miss Sara Davenal," returned +Long, pertly, for she did not like Miss Bettina any more than Miss +Bettina liked her. + +"Tell it, then. Miss Sara Davenal's there, you see." Long fairly +turned her back on Miss Bettina as she delivered the message she was +charged with. She explained that Mr. Cray's mother and sisters had +arrived unexpectedly the previous night, and the object of her coming +round now was, to ask if Miss Sara Davenal would go out with Mrs. Cray +senior that morning. + +"Arrived last night unexpectedly!" exclaimed Miss Bettina, who had +been bending her ear. "How many of them?" + +"Four," replied Long. "Mrs. Cray and three Miss Crays." + +"It's well the house is large! _I_ should not like to be taken by +storm in that way." + +"I suppose I can go, aunt?" + +"I suppose you can't refuse. What's it for? Where is she going?" + +"Where is Mrs. Cray going, do you know, Long?" asked Sara. + +"I believe she's only going shopping, miss," answered the girl, who +was always civil to Sara. "I heard her say she must get a bonnet, and +other things, before she could appear in London. My mistress has +promised to take the young ladies out, and she said perhaps you'd be +so good as accompany Mrs. Cray senior, as she does not know London." + +"I don't think I know it much better than she does," observed Sara, +smiling. "But you can tell Mrs. Cray that I shall be happy to +accompany her, and to render her any service that I can. Oh, and, +Long, will you tell your mistress that we have received sad news from +Dr. Keen," she resumed, as the maid was turning away. "Poor little +Leopold has broken his arm." + +"And that he did it scrambling after blackberries," indignantly added +Miss Bettina. + +The maid departed, saying that Mrs. Cray senior would be round in the +course of the morning. Sara went up to the drawing-room, and opened +her letter-case, which she used sometimes instead of her desk. Her +first thought was to write a few words to poor Leo. But ere she began +she leaned her aching brow upon her hand; the vision she had seen at +the window of Bangalore Terrace, as they drove to Lady Reid's the +previous evening, had left its sting upon her brain. + +A slight tap at the door, and Neal came in. He could not but note the +weary expression of her face as she looked up at him. He advanced to +the table, some papers in his hand, and spoke in a low voice as if +what he said was for her ear alone. + +"The postman brought another letter, Miss Sara. It was enclosed in +this envelope addressed to me by Master Richard. Perhaps you would +like to see what he says." Neal was really honest in this. Possibly he +saw no opportunity to be otherwise. Sara, in some curiosity, took the +papers from Neal's hands. The whole lot was characteristic of Dick. +The envelope was addressed "Mr. Neal, at Miss Davenal's. Private," the +proper address of their residence being added. On opening it when +delivered to him by the postman, Neal had found it to contain a sealed +letter for Miss Sara Davenal and a scrap of paper evidently torn from +a copy-book for himself. On the latter he read the following lines, +and these he now showed to his young mistress. + +"Dear Neal, give the note to my couzin Sara when nobodys buy and be +sure dont let aunt bett see it or therell be a row, R. D." + +"Oh, thank you, Neal," she said heartily. But as the man left the room +and she broke the seal, a half-dread came over her of what it would +contain. + + +"Dear Sara,-- + +"The most horrid catastrofy has hapened, leo's gone and broke his arm, +and I want to tell you how it was done I must tell somebody or I shall +burst, leo's a brave littel chap and kept his mouth shut when old Keen +and the docter were asking questions and let him think it was through +the blackberys, we had half holliday it was Mrs. Keens berthday and we +went after the blackberys, this was yesterday afternoon, and about 6 +of us, me and Jones and tom Keen and Halliday and leo and Thomson, if +you want to know which of us it was, where separated from the rest and +got into one of farmer clupp's feilds and what should we see but his +poney trying to nible at the short grass, we set up a shout, which +Halliday stoppt for fear of being heard, and caught him, and then +there was a shindy as to which 3 of us should have first ride, for we +were afraid thered not be time for the other three if the school came +up, and the under master dogskin (thats our name for him hes a sneek) +was with them, so to end the dispute we all 6 got on the poney and a +stunning gallopp we had only it was rather close to sit, well leo was +the hindmost and as he hadnt much beside the tail to sit on he fell +off but he must be a great duff for he had held on all round the feild +once, he says it was Jones moved and made him fall and tom Keen says +hes sure it was, for Jones who has got the longest legs kept jogging +them to make the poney go and he was next to leo and leo held on by +him, I was first and guided the poney and in taking the sweep round at +the turning leo shot off behind, his arm was doubled under him and a +soft duffer of an arm it must be for it took and broke, we didnt know +he was gone at first, Jones called out, young Davenal's off, but we +thought nothing and galloped all round the feild again, he was lying +there when we got back, and his face was white and we called to him +and he never answered so we stopt the poney and went to him, Jones +tried to pull him up and leo screamed, and halliday calls out Im blest +if I dont think hes hurt, leo began saying he hoped he wasnt kill'd, +you know what a regular little muff he is, we picked him up at last +and when we saw his arm hang down we were frightened above a bit, well +we didnt know what was to be done, we carried him into the next feild +where the poney wasnt, for fear of anybody suspecting and just as we +had laid him by the bank the rest of the fellows came down the lane +and saw us and tom keen called out that davenal junior was hurt, with +that they came up and Marsh (thats dogskin) looks up at the high bank +above leo and sees the blackberys growing atop of it and sings out to +leo, I know how this was done, you where on the top of that bank +trying to get blackberys beyond your reach and you fell off it, well +if you'll believe me sara we never told the story to say yes, only +Jones said says he I'm sure I dont know sir how ever he managed to +fall, and Marsh he thought he did fall off the bank and went off to +take the news to Keen, and us 6 all thought what a jolly chance it was +that we had happened to lay him down by the bank, and none of them +ever saw the poney, leo was carried home and Mrs. Keen she came out +with a face as white as his, tom how did it happen, says she laying +hold of tom, and we got affraid again, for toms uncomon fond of his +mother, but he didnt split, and then Keen came and the surjon came and +Keen he says to leo how _did_ you fall did any body push you off the +bank, no sir says leo, and the surjon he asked how t was done, and leo +shook like anything, and began to cry, afraid he should have to tell a +story at last which he cant bare, he was shut up in a room then with +the doctor and Keen and one or two more and we heard him cry out when +they were setting his arm, but you know what a baby he is poor little +chap and I wish with all my hart it had been me instead of him, the +worst is I should have lost my share of the supper and a jolly good +one they give us on her berthday every year, cakes and tarts and +pidjon pies and lots of things and we have to dress for it and a heap +of duffing girls come to it in white frocks but we dont mind em much, +and dear sara thats the whole facts of how it came about and I +couldn't write it truer if I were telling it to poor Uncle Richard +himself, leos all jolly this morning and he is in bed and has got no +lessons to do and he says I am to tell you that he'll never get on a +poney with 6 again and Mrs. Keens very kind to him, and Miss Keen +(shes the big one you know) is going to read him some storys, he says +I am to tell you it doesn't hurt much and oh sara there's only one +thing we are sorry for, that Uncle Richard isnt alive to cure him +because hed have him home to Hallingham to do it and perhaps me as +well and I should get a holliday from these horrid books, I shall send +this to neal for fear of aunt bett, and mind you hide it, and dont let +a sight of it reach her, we are aufully afraid of that about the poney +getting to old keens ears for thered be the dickens to pay, yours +affectionately + +"DICK. + +"p s leo sends his love and he hopes you wont be angry with him for +breaking his arm and I am writing this after school at twelve instead +of playing, Good buy." + + +Sara smiled, in spite of herself, as she folded up the letter. But she +thought it rather a wonder there had not been a few broken legs among +the "6," instead of one broken arm. + +She got ready for Mrs. Cray, and went down to the dining-room. Miss +Bettina was gone out then. She took up a book, but had not been +looking at it many minutes when she saw Neal coming up the street +talking to a young person whose condition in life it was rather +difficult to guess. In these days of _dress_ it is difficult. She had +a pretty face, Sara could see that, though a veil covered it; her gown +was one of those called a "washing silk"--and very much "washed out" +it seemed to be; and a smart shawl, just flung on the shoulders, +trailed on the ground behind. But for this trailing shawl and a sort +of general untidiness, there would have been something superior about +the girl. In the face she looked like a lady, and Sara had seen many a +lady worse dressed. + +Sara, behind the blind, could see them, but they could not see her. +Neal stood a moment at the door, and then looked down over the +railings of the area. + +"Are the ladies out?" he asked. + +"Yes," came back for answer in Dorcas's voice. The woman evidently did +not know that Miss Sara had not accompanied her mistress. + +"You can come in then," Sara distinctly heard Neal say to the lady--if +lady she was. And he opened the door with his latch-key. + +They stood talking in the passage for some little time in an +undertone, and then Neal took her into the back room. It opened to the +dining-room with folding-doors; but the doors were always kept closed: +and indeed the back room was chiefly used as Neal's pantry. Sara, who +at first had been doubtful whether it might not be a visitor to +herself, came to the conclusion that it was only a visitor to Neal, +and she resumed her reading. + +But the voices grew rather louder; and the words "Captain Davenal" +caused her to look up with a start. No wonder she should start at that +name, remembering the past. A sudden fear same over her that something +or other connected with that past was again threatening her brother. + +She could not hear more, for the voices dropped again to their covert +tone. Another minute, and Neal was conducting the stranger to the +front door. + +"We shall hear more by the next mail; but there's not the slightest +doubt he's married," Sara heard him say as he passed the room. "The +lady is an heiress: a Miss Reid." + +"Well," cried the other voice, "I'll have satisfaction. I'll have it +somehow. I don't care what punishment it brings him to, I'll have it." + +The visitor went away. Neal closed the street-door upon her and turned +to behold his young mistress at that of the dining-room, a scared look +in her eyes, a white shade upon her face. + +"Neal! what has that young "--Sara hesitated between the words +_person_ and _lady_, but chose the former--"person to do with Captain +Davenal?" + +She had spoken without reflection in her impulse; in her renewed fear, +which she had deemed buried with the past. Neal for once in his life +was confounded. He did not speak immediately; he was probably striving +to recall what had been said, inconvenient for her to hear. + +"Tell me at once, Neal; I insist on your speaking," she reiterated, +attributing his hesitation to unwillingness to speak. "Indeed it is +better that I should know it. What was she saying about my brother?" + +That alarm of some nature had been aroused within her, that she was +painfully anxious, and that the alarm and anxiety were connected with +Captain Davenal, Neal could not fail to read. But his speech was +certainly less ready than usual, for he still kept silence. + +"I heard you tell her that Captain Davenal was married; that further +news would be in by the next mail," pursued Sara, growing more +inwardly perturbed with every moment. "What was it to her? Who is she? +For what purpose did she come here? Neal, _can't_ you answer me?" and +her voice grew quite shrill with its alarm and pain. + +"Miss Sara--if I hesitated to answer, it is that I do not like to +speak," he said at length. "I tell the young woman she must be +mistaken in what she says--that it _can't_ be. But she won't hear me." + +"What is it that she says? Have you seen her before today?" + +"She has been here once or twice before. But for understanding that +you and my mistress were out I should not have allowed her to come in +this time. I am very sorry that it should have happened, miss." + +"But what _is_ it?" returned Sara, nearly wild with suspense. "What +has she come for?" + +"She has come to ask questions about Captain Davenal." + +"But _what_ about him? What is he to her?" + +Neal coughed. He took out his handsome silk handkerchief--he always +used very handsome ones--and wiped his mouth. Sara trembled. His +manner was unpleasantly mysterious, and it seemed that she was on the +verge of hearing something terrible. + +"Does she know my brother?" + +"She says she does. Miss Sara, I would have given a great deal to +prevent this happening today. It will only worry you, and I daresay I +could still have put her off and kept her quiet." + +"Neal, tell me the worst," she cried, her voice and heart alike +growing faint. "I must hear it now." + +"Well, Miss Sara, she says she is the wife of Captain Davenal." + +"She--says--she--is--the--wife--of--Captain Davenal!" + +The words were echoed slowly in very astonishment, a pause between +each. Vague as her fears had been they had not touched on this. + +"It is what she says, Miss Sara. I told her it must be one of two +things--either that she was deceiving me in saying it, or that she was +herself deceived. But she insists upon it that she is his true and +lawful wife; that she was married to him nearly twelve months before +he went abroad. She says my late master, Dr. Davenal, knew of it." + +Sara stared at Neal in a sort of helpless manner. Never for a moment +did it occur to her to question the truth; her mind accepted it--a +terrible calamity; worse, it seemed in this moment, than all that had +gone before. + +"She came here this morning in consequence of hearing of the Captain's +marriage to Miss Reid. I acknowledged that news had come home to that +effect. It would have been quite useless, you see, Miss Sara, to deny +what's known publicly." + +"Neal! Neal! you will not mention this?" came the feverish wish, the +first uttered in her bewilderment. "You will guard it faithfully? +We--I--some one must see what can be done." + +"You may entirely depend on me, Miss Sara," replied Neal, speaking +more impressively than was his wont--Neal the impassive. "Of course, +miss, the chief thing will be to guard against exposure." + +Sara turned into the dining-room, mind and body alike sinking. A sick, +faint fear came over her that _this_ must be the secret connected with +her brother which had been disclosed that long past night to Dr. +Davenal. Another moment, and she did not see how that could be. There +would have been no _crime_ in it: Captain Davenal was not married +then. Her brain was in a chaos of perplexity, her mind agitated with +doubt. If this young woman--lady--whatever she might be--was Edward's +wife, how could he have married Rose Reid? Was it the money tempted +him? Calm, self-controlled though she was usually, a groan of despair +broke from her lips. + +Neal in the back room thought she called him, and came round to the +dining-room door. She looked up as he stood there and stared at him, +just as though she had forgotten who he was. + +"Did you call, Miss Sara?" + +"I--I--I did not call. Neal--do you know--what the name is?--I +mean--what it _was?_" + +"Yes, miss, I know so much as that. Catherine Wentworth." + +He retired, leaving Sara alone. Almost a rebellious thought was +stealing over her--was she _never_ to be at rest? Not at much rest +just then certainly; for Mrs. Cray had driven to the door and was +asking for her. + +Sara tied her bonnet mechanically and went out. Mrs. Cray was seated +in a fly. She would not alight then, she said: she had a great deal to +do. Sara stepped in. Mrs. Cray was an imperious-looking woman, fair +and pale, with a handsome face. Sara thought her over-dressed and very +fidgety. They were not much acquainted when at Hallingham. + +"I have nothing to wear," she said to Sara. "I want a host of things. +A bonnet first. Mrs. Mark Cray has given me the address of a superior +dressmaker. She is a little selfish, is she not?" + +"Who is?" cried Sara, in answer to the sentence, which came out rather +abruptly after the rest. + +"Mrs. Mark Cray. To confess to you my opinion, I think she might have +lent me the carriage this morning, instead of sending me out in a +hired fly, and keeping the carriage for herself and the girls. It +seems to be the way of the world nowadays--the young before the old. +She is Mark's wife, and I am only his mother." + +Whether Sara would have found a suitable answer is uncertain. +Something outside completely took away all thoughts of it. They were +at that moment passing the War Office; and, coming from it with an +angry and determined look upon her pretty face, was the person whom +she had just heard called Catherine Wentworth. Sara shrunk back in the +cab's corner, dismay on her countenance, dismay in her heart. Had she +_already_ denounced Captain Davenal at headquarters? + +From milliners to linen-drapers, from linen-drapers to dressmakers, +one place after another continually, until Sara was tired to death, +the day wore away. The afternoon was getting on when the last +commission was done, and Mrs. Cray, who had put on the new bonnet just +bought, had leisure to think of the horse and driver. + +"Poor things, they must want some repose," she remarked, as she came +out of the Pantheon. "Well, there's only one place more. Will you tell +the man, my dear?" she added as she got in. "Parliament Street. You +know the number, I suppose." + +"What number?" inquired Sara. "Where to in Parliament Street?" + +"To Mr. Oswald Cray's. Bracknell and Street, I think, is the name of +the firm." + +"_There!_" returned Sara in her discomposure. "I can't go there." + +"Not go there! My dear, I must go there. Mr. Oswald Cray is my +step-son. I shall call in for a minute to let him know I am in +London." + +Opposition would be worse than acquiescence. Besides, what could be +her plea? Sara, all her pulses fluttering, spoke the address to the +driver, and took her place in silence opposite Mrs. Cray. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. +MRS. BENN'S WRONGS. + + +"Then, Benn, I'll not have it done! You can't go." + +"But I tell you I have got my orders. I am sent." + +"And who gave you the orders, pray, Joe Benn? Who sent you?" + +"Mr. Oswald Cray. And the best thing for _you_ to do is to hold your +tongue and take off that there guy of a bonnet, and hide your bare +arms, and put on a apron that's clean, and otherwise make yourself +decent, for you _have got_ to do it. And when folks have got to do a +thing, they may as well make up their minds to do it in the best way +and readiest way they can." + +Mr. Benn, in thus breathlessly telling his wife she had "got to do +it," did not allude to the little items of personal embellishment he +mentioned, but to something else which Mrs. Benn abhorred above all +things--that of waiting on gentlemen. It happened now and then that a +luncheon or other meal would be ordered at the offices in Parliament +Street for some stranger or friend stopping in London, which meal Mrs. +Benn had to prepare, and her husband to wait at. On this day Mr. +Street had ordered mutton-chops to be ready for two o'clock, and the +tray laid for three persons; and this it was that was discomposing +Mrs. Benn. In the first place, it was one of those oft-recurring +periodical battles of her life--a cleaning-day; in the next place, her +husband had just given her the startling information that she would +have to wait at the meal as well as to cook it. "And a fine object you +be, to do it!" he had wound up with in a mutter to himself. + +Certainly Mrs. Benn did not appear to particular advantage today, +looking at her in an artistic point of view. You have had the pleasure +of seeing her once before in the high costume donned for the occasion +of those days specially marked in her calendar. I don't think there's +much change. Her bonnet, black once, rusty brown now, is on, brim +downwards, crown up, strings tied in a knot at the back; her apron is +a piece of wrappering off a bale of goods, embellished with sundry +holes and fastened round her with an iron skewer; and her gown, turned +up under it, is pinned into a heap behind. She stands over the Dutch +oven, her arms bare and black, and a fork in her hand; and ever and +anon as she stoops to turn or touch the chops in the Dutch oven, the +gathered gown sways itself up at the back, not unlike a sail. Mr. Benn +is in his shirtsleeves, having taken off his coat to brush it, +preparatory to going out. + +"It's sure to be the case! I've marked it times and times again!" +burst forth Mrs. Benn, trying to fling off a live coal which bad +intruded itself into the Dutch oven. "If ever there's lunch or +any bothering extra of that sort wanted, it's safe to be on my +cleaning-day! Mr. Street have got no more consideration nor a stalking +gander; and Mr. Oswald Cray have got as little. They _might_ remember +my cleaning-days, and spare a body on 'em." + +"And a fine speech that is," said Mr. Benn, in a reprimanding tone. +"You'd better not let it come anigh their ears. We are here, you and +me, to do what work's required of us, at any hour, whether it's +cooking or whether it's waiting, and your ord'nary work must give way +when it's wanted to give it. They'd soon get other servants in our +places." + +"He comes to the top o' the stairs just as the clock was going one," +observed Mrs. Benn, paying no more attention to the words of her +husband than if she had been deaf. "'Are you there?' he calls out, and +I looked up and see it was Mr. Street. 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'I be;' and +I was in a cloud of dust at the moment fit to smother you, a doing +out of that there wood and bottle cupboard. 'Oh,' says he 'some +mutton-chops for two o'clock, and lay the tray for three. And do 'em +well,' says he, 'and a dish of mashed potaters.' A nice thing that was +for me to hear!--and to have to go out the figure I be, after chops, +and to be hindered in my cleaning a good two hours! Ain't that enough, +Joe Benn, without having to turn to and wait?" + +"I can't help it," said Joe, civilly, as he put on his coat. "If I am +ordered work out of doors I must go about it, just as you must the +work in. Mr. Oswald Cray has sent me down to Limehouse, and I must be +back before the office closes. Don't I tell you I can't even stop for +my dinner?" + +He went away without more words. He probably would have had a few sent +after him, but for an unlucky catastrophe that occurred at the moment. +The saucepan of potatoes fell on its side, and enveloped Mrs. Benn and +the Dutch oven in a mass of steam. It took all that lady's best +attention to remedy it; and when she looked up Mr. Benn was gone. + +Very reluctantly indeed did she set about making herself presentable; +but, as Benn had said, there was no help for it. She washed her face +and hands, and turned down the gown, and drew down its sleeves, and +put on a white apron, and replaced the choice bonnet with a clean cap, +grumbling bitterly all the time. And at the appointed hour she took up +the luncheon-tray. + +Three gentlemen partook of the meal--Mr. Street, Oswald Cray and a +well-known contractor, who had only that day arrived in London from +Spain, and was going into the country to his works by a four o'clock +train. They were discussing business while they ate. + +A certain projected line of rail in Spain was being organised. +Bracknell and Street were the engineers, and it was proposed that Mr. +Oswald Cray should go out as superintendent. The details of the affair +do not concern us; but it must be mentioned that the sojourn in Spain +would be likely, from certain attendant circumstances, to prove of +great advantage to Mr. Oswald Cray in a pecuniary point of view. + +After the departure of the guest Mr. Street and Oswald remained +together a few minutes talking. "You'll not think of declining it, of +course, Cray?" remarked the latter. "I only wish I could go!" + +"I don't see how you will manage without me here," remarked Oswald. + +"We must manage in the best way we can. Bracknell must be with us more +than he has been lately. Of course we could send somebody else to do +the Spain business were it impossible that you could leave; but it is +not impossible, and I speak in your interest when I say it is a chance +you ought not to miss." + +"True. I shall like to go, if home affairs can spare me. I suppose it +will involve a stay there of two years?" + +"Nearer three," remarked Mr. Street. "Then we will consider your going +as settled; and things must be at once prepared at home contingent +upon it." + +"Yes," acquiesced Oswald. "Wait a moment," he added, as Mr. Street was +turning away to descend. "I want to speak to you about Allister. I +wish you would take him on again." + +Mr. Street pursed his lips up. He had a round face and small light +eyes, in which sat a hard look. Whether it was the hard look or not, I +can't tell, or whether it was that the look was only the index of the +nature--as it generally is--certain it was that Mr. Street was not +liked in the house. Oswald knew the sign of the contracted lips. + +"What is your objection?" he pursued. "Allister's quite well +apparently, and----" + +"Apparently! there it is," interrupted Mr. Street. "It's a great +hindrance to business, these sickly clerks--well one day, ill the +next; especially in such a house as ours. We have no time for it." + +"Allister seems well. At one time I thought his lungs were fatally +diseased, but I begin to believe I was entirely mistaken. It is nearly +twelve months since the worst symptoms left him, and he seems now as +strong as I am." + +"Pooh!" said Mr. Street. "A warm climate, if he could get to it, might +set him up; but in this place of change and fogs and damp, rely upon +it he'll not keep well long." + +Oswald was silent. So far as the warm climate went, he agreed with Mr. +Street. Had Frank Allister the opportunity of going to one it might +set him up for a long life. + +"How has he lived?" asked Mr. Street. "He has no money." + +"He has done work at home lately. We have furnished him with some to +do; plans and estimates, and such like. He has had tracings also from +another house or two." + +"Is that sister of his with him still?" + +"Yes. She is a faithful ally. She has taken a daily situation as +companion to a blind lady. It all helps to bring grist to the mill. +Allister is very anxious to come back, Mr. Street. I really see no +reason why he should not. I am sure of one thing--that he is as +capable of doing his work here now as any clerk we employ." + +"_Now_. Will you guarantee that he shall continue capable of doing +it?" + +"I wish I could guarantee it." + +"Of course. If wishes were horses--you know the old adage. Were I to +take him on now, perhaps in winter he would get ill, and have to leave +again. We can't afford those interruptions." + +"I trust indeed he would not. He passed well through last winter; +improving in it every day." + +"Last winter was a mild one, except for a little extreme cold we had +in November. Next winter may be a severe one. I tell you, Cray, +there's only one safeguard for Allister; and that's a warmer climate. +At any rate, a more settled one. Such is my opinion." + +Oswald would not give in. "Considering that Allister is now in health +and strength----" + +"Strength for him," put in Mr. Street. + +"Well, strength for him if you like to put it so. But I am sure you +would be surprised to see how strong he does appear to be. Considering +this, and that he believes himself to be permanently and radically +cured, it will sound very hard to him if I tell him that we cannot +take him back again." + +"If your wish is to have him back--that is, if you make a personal +matter of it--have him," said Mr. Street. "I see you want it." + +"Yes, I do," said Oswald. "I wish him back, both as a matter of +personal liking and that his services are efficient. This departure of +mine for Spain will involve the taking on of at least one mon clerk. +Let it be Allister." + +"Have it as you like, then," said Mr. Street. "Let Allister come back +at once. Tell him to come on Monday." + +So it was settled. They went down talking together, and encountered +Mrs. Benn on the lower passage with a hearth-broom in her hand. + +"May I take the tray away, gentlemen?" + +Oswald nodded, and the woman went upstairs, her face and her temper as +crusty as they could be. + +"I wonder the world's let go on!" she ejaculated, as she flung the +broom on a chair and began to put the things together on the tray. "I +wonder how _they'd_ like to have a day's cleaning to do, and to be +called off for three mortal hours in the midst of it? It's four +o'clock if it's a minute, and I was stopped in my work at one; and if +that's not three hours, I'd like to know what is. I've set to nothing +since; how can I, dressed up to please them? and I'm sure----my! what +cormorants!" + +The subjoined sentence, given utterance to by Mrs. Benn in her +surprise, had reference to the mutton-chop dish, on which her eyes had +just rested. She stood a moment gazing at it, her hands uplifted. + +"If they haven't gone and ate 'em all! Nine thick chops, and only the +tails of two of 'em left! Well, I'd not own to such famine if I was +gentlefolks. I sent 'em up for show--for I don't forget the trimming I +got for skimping the number last time chops was ordered--never +supposing they'd eat 'em. I meant two of them chops to come up again +for Mr. Oswald Cray's dinner; they'd have done for him, warmed up. +And now they're demolished!--and I must dance out again to that +butcher's--and Benn a-wanting something with _his_ tea, as he's sure +to do, going out without his dinner!--and me with; all the lower part +of the house to do yet!--and got my things to change again. It's a +wonder the world _do_ go on!" + +She carried the tray down; but what with glasses and other things, she +could not carry all at once, and had to make two journeys of it. It +did not add to her geniality of mood. Arrived in the kitchen the +second time, she took the things off the tray, folded the cloth +carefully--for in such matters she was very particular--and laid it in +the dresser-drawer. Then putting the other things in a stack to be +washed by and by, she began to make preparations for resuming the +interrupted work. As a preliminary to this, she slowly turned her gown +up over the white apron, and looked round for the broom. After casting +her eyes in all directions, and casting them in vain, recollection +returned to her. + +"Drat the broom! If I haven't gone and left it upstairs. I wish their +luncheons and their bother was far enough!" + +She turned down her gown again, possibly lest she might encounter +either of her masters on the way, and proceeded up the kitchen stairs. +The broom lay on the chair where she had flung it, in Oswald's +sitting-room. As she took it up she espied some crumbs under the +table, and stooped down to brush them carefully into her hand, +grumbling all the while. + +"It's just like 'em! dropping their crumbs down like so many children! +The trouble I'd used to have with that when old Bracknell was here! +He'd shake his table-napkin on the carpet, he would; and Benn, he'd +come away and never----" + +"Is this the room? Is he here?" + +To be interrupted by those words in a female voice close to her elbow +brought Mrs. Benn to her legs at once. A lady in a gay white bonnet +and violet-tipped feathers, with other attire on the same grand +corresponding scale, stood confronting her. Mrs. Benn could only stare +in the first moment from consternation. And the lady stared too, first +at the room, then at Mrs. Benn, waiting for her question to be +answered. + +"Is who here?" cried Mrs. Benn. + +"Mr. Oswald Cray. We were ushered up here by a young man whom we saw +in the passage. He said this was Mr. Oswald Cray's room, and he would +send him to us. Is he well?" + +Mrs. Benn naturally looked round for some one to whom the "we" could +apply, and saw a young lady at the door. A sweet-looking young lady +whose manner was timid and hesitating, as if she did not like to +advance further into the room. You need not be told that it was Sara +Davenal. She had wished to remain in the fly while Mrs. Cray came up; +but Mrs. Cray had insisted on being accompanied by her indoors, and +Sara was obliged to yield, for she was unable to give any good reason +against it. How could she hint at the relations which had once existed +between her and Mr. Oswald Cray?--at the love that lingered still? + +"He's as well as a body can be; leastways if his luncheon's anything +to go by, which he have just eat," replied Mrs. Benn in answer to the +question of the lady, whom she had not taken a fancy to, as she was +permitting her tone to show. "Did you want him?" + +"I have come to see him," was the answer. "He is my step-son, and we +have not met for a good while." + +Mrs. Benn's manner turned to a sudden thaw. In her crusty way she was +fond of her master, Mr. Oswald Cray; and she thought she might as well +be civil to the lady before her as his step-mother. + +"Take a seat, ladies," she said, dusting two chairs with her white +apron, and disposing herself to be cordial and confidential. Fate +seemed to be against Mrs. Benn's cleaning that day, and we most of us +resign ourselves to what can't be helped. This appearance of Mr. +Oswald Cray's step-mother Mrs. Benn regarded as an era in that +gentleman's life, for she could not remember that during his whole +residence there any living relative had come to inquire after him, +with the exception of his brother. + +"His step-mother," cried she approvingly, as she stood behind a chair +and rested her arms on the back of it, one hand grasping the brush. +"And might your name be the same as his, ma'am--Mrs. Oswald Cray!" +"I am Mrs. Cray," replied the lady, with emphasis on the one word, and +an impulse to resent the familiarity. But she felt inclined to +encourage the woman in her sociability, feeling a curiosity as to the +everyday movements and doings of Mr. Oswald Cray. + +Sara sat a little apart, near the centre table. Her cheek rested on +her fingers, and her eyes were mechanically fixed on a small chart or +plan, which lay at the end of the table opposite to where the +luncheon-tray had been. Quite mechanically her thoughts were buried in +the unhappy occurrence of that morning: the advent of the stranger at +her house and the startling communication of Neal. The gossip of Mrs. +Cray and the woman fell on her ear like the humming of gnats in +summer; heard, but not heeded. Oswald did not appear; and Mrs. Cray, +always restless, as Sara had that morning found out, started from her +seat and said she should go to the rooms below in search of him. + +Mrs. Benn had this peculiarity--and yet, I don't know that it can be +called a peculiarity, since so far as my experience teaches me, it is +characteristic of women in general--that however pressing might be her +occupations, if once called off them and launched into the full tide +of gossip, the urgent duties would give way, and the gossip be +willingly pursued until night should fall and stop it. Mrs. Benn, +deprived of her chief listener, the elder lady, turned her attention +on the younger. + +"Would you believe it, miss," she said, dropping her voice to a +confidential tone, "his mother's coming here this afternoon bears out +some words I said to my husband only a day or two ago, just as one's +dreams gets bore out sometimes. I says to Benn, 'Mr. Oswald Cray's +relations'll be up, now there's going to be the change.'" + +"What change?" asked Sara. + +"His marriage, miss." + +Ah, she was all too awake to the present now. Her lips parted; her +brow turned cold. "His marriage?" + +"It can't be nothing else but his marriage," repeated Mrs. Benn. "Benn +was waiting on him at dinner, and he told him there was perhaps going +to be a change, that he wouldn't have him to wait on long, for he +might be leaving. Joe Benn he comes down and repeats to me, all +wondering, like the gaby he is, what his master meant by it. Why, his +wedding of course, says I; it don't take a conjuror to tell that. +Well, she's a nice young lady." + +Sara had her hand raised to her face, apparently pushing back her +braided hair. "Who is she?" came breathing from her lips; and she +could hardly have helped asking it had it been to save her life. + +"Well, it's Miss Allister, if it's anybody," returned Mrs. Benn, in +apparent contradiction of what she had just asserted. "They are as +thick as two peas, and I know he goes there a'most every evening." + +Sara had heard enough. In her confusion of mind she had scarcely noted +a change taking place in the room. With the last words Mrs. Benn and +her brush glided away, and Oswald Cray had come in. Some one had told +him that a lady was waiting for him in his room, but he was busy at +his desk at the moment and waited to finish what he was about. Nothing +could well exceed his surprise when he saw seated there Miss Sara +Davenal. + +Sara rose. She saw by his manner that he was ignorant of his +stepmother's visit, and she felt a little embarrassed as she explained. +"She had only come with Mrs. Cray; Mrs. Cray had just gone down in +search of him." + +Oswald supposed she alluded to his brother's wife, and made no +answering comment. As he stood with Sara's hand in his in greeting, he +noted how pale she was; for the startling communication of Mrs. Benn +had scared the blood from her face. It was somewhat singular that this +was the first time they had been alone together since that memorable +day of meeting in the Temple gardens: they had met once or twice +casually at Mark's in a full room, but not otherwise. + +"Have you been well?" he asked. "You are not looking very strong." + +"Oh, quite well, thank you." + +Oswald hastened to ask a question that had long been on his mind. One +that had troubled him perhaps more than he cared to acknowledge to +himself: but he had not felt justified in seeking a special occasion +to put it. + +"Now that I have the opportunity, will you forgive me if I ask whether +that unpleasant matter is settled that caused your visits to Essex +Street? I still think you would have done wisely to confide it to me." + +"It is quite settled," answered Sara, her tone full of satisfaction. +"Settled and done with." Ah, poor thing, she forgot momentarily, as +she spoke, the fresh grievance opened that morning, which was perhaps +connected with it. + +"I am glad of it," he heartily said. "I should not like to have gone +away for an indefinite period knowing that you were in any dilemma, +and no one perhaps to see you out of it. Friendship may still exist +between us tacitly, if not yet actively," he continued in a low +earnest tone. "Nothing else is left to us." + +She thought he alluded to his marriage. She stood something like a +statue, feeling cruelly wronged, but loving him beyond everything in +life. Not wronged by him: it was fate that wronged her: he would have +loved her still, had he dared, and she felt that he honoured her in +all tenderness. She felt--and the hot crimson came dyeing her face at +the thought--that he loved her better than that other one. + +The rebellious tears welled up to her eyes, and she turned her face +away. "Are you going to be absent long?" she asked, trying to speak +indifferently. + +"I think so. How long I cannot tell yet. I am going to Spain." + +There was a pause of silence. Sara, with an air of unconcern, began +putting straight the crape folds on her dress skirt. Oswald turned to +the door. + +"Where can Caroline be?" he exclaimed. "Did you say she had gone down +in search of me?" + +"Not Caroline. It is not Caroline. It is Mrs. Cray, Mark's mother. I +came out with her to show her the way to different places, but I did +not know she was going to bring me here." + +"Mark's mother!" But ere Oswald could say more, Mrs. Cray appeared. +She had found her way into Mr. Street's room downstairs, thinking it +might be Oswald's, and had remained making acquaintance with that +gentleman. Oswald Cray the rising engineer, and Oswald Cray the +interloping little son in her husband's house, were essentially two +people in the worldly mind of Mrs. Cray. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. +AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. + + +Mark Cray and his wife were attiring themselves by gas-light for some +scene of evening gaiety. The past fortnight--for that period had +elapsed since the arrival of Mrs. Cray in London--had brought nothing +else but gaiety. Shopping in the morning, drives in the afternoon, +whitebait dinners at Blackwell or Greenwich, dinners at Richmond, +theatres in the evening, receptions at home, parties out; noise, +bustle, whirl, and _cost_. Caroline loved the life; were it taken from +her, she said randomly to Mrs. Cray one day, she could not survive, +she should die of _ennui_; and the Miss Crays had never been so happy +in their lives, or their mother either. + +Their visit had come to an end now, and they had left for home that +morning. Unwillingly, it is true, but Mrs. Cray had deemed it wise not +to wear out their welcome. They were a large party; and she privately +contemplated a longer visit in the spring, during the glories of the +London season. Mark had treated them right regally, and had contrived +to screw out from some impossible pocket a twenty-pound note, which he +put into his mother's hands for the journey. "I shall be able to allow +you and the girls something worth having next year, when the ore's in +the market regularly," he said to her. Altogether, Mrs. Cray was well +satisfied with her impromptu visit. + +"I say, Carine," cried Mark, coming forth from his dressing-room, +"what's gone with my diamond studs?" + +"Where's the use of asking me?" was Carine's answer, who was turning +herself slowly round before the large glass, to contemplate the effect +of a new dress which her maid had just finished fixing upon her. "You +must make haste, Mark, or we shall be late. The dinner's at seven, +mind; and I know it does not want above a quarter." + +"We shall get there in five minutes," carelessly answered Mark. "I +can't find my diamond studs." + +"I think they are in your dressing-case, sir," spoke up the maid. "I +saw them there a day or two ago." Mark went back, and found he had +overlooked them. He finished dressing himself, all but the coat, and +came into his wife's room again. + +"Carry, isn't it old what's-his-name's affair tonight in Kensington +Gardens? We promised to go, didn't we?" + +"Of course we did, Mark. I intend to go, too. He says it will be a +charming party in spite of the world being out of town. We shall get +away from the dinner by ten o'clock, I daresay. Shall I do?" + +She was turning herself round before the glass, as before. Between two +glasses, in fact, one in front, one behind. Her dress was some +beautiful fabric, white and mauve; and her violet eyes and her glowing +cheeks spoke all too plainly of her besetting vanity. Certainly, if +vanity is ever pardonable, it was in Caroline Cray as she stood there, +so radiant in her youth and beauty. + +"Oh, you'll do," returned Mark, with scant gallantry; but his white +necktie had been refractory, and he was resettling it again. At that +moment he heard a knock at his dressing-room door. + +"Who's there? Come in," he called out, stepping into his own room. + +One of the men-servants entered and presented a card to him. Mark, +whose hands were busy with his necktie, bent his head to read it as it +lay on the silver waiter. "Mr. Brackenbury." + +"Mr. Brackenbury!" repeated Mark to himself. "Who on earth's Mr. +Brackenbury? I can't see anybody now," he said to the servant. "Tell +him so. I am just going out." + +"I told the gentleman you were on the point of going out with my +mistress, sir, that the carriage was waiting at the door; but he +insisted on coming in, and said you would be sure to see him." + +"Who is it?" cried Caroline, stepping forward. + +"Some Mr. Brackenbury. Don't know him from Adam. Go down, George, and +say that I can _not_ see him, or any one else, this evening." + +"The idea of strangers intruding at this hour!" exclaimed Caroline. +"Mark, I daresay it's somebody come to worry you to get them shares in +the mine." + +Mark made no reply. He was in enough "worry" just then over his +necktie. "Bother the thing!" he cried, and pulled it off entirely with +a jerk. + +The servant came back again. He bore another card, a few lines added +to it in pencil. + +"I must and will see you. Denial is useless." + +Mark Cray read the words twice over and decided to go down. They +almost seemed to imply a threat, and he did not understand threats. +Mr. Brackenbury had arrived in a Hansom cab, the horse reeking with +the speed it had made; but Mark did not know that yet. + +"I won't be a minute, Caroline. The fellow insists on seeing me. I'll +just see what he wants." + +Tying on a black necktie temporarily--the one he had taken off +earlier--and putting on his morning coat as he descended the stairs, +Mark entered the room where the visitor was waiting. And then Mark +recognised Mr. Brackenbury as a gentleman who had recently purchased a +few shares in the mine. Amidst the many, many shareholders, it was not +surprising that Mark had forgotten the name of one of them. In point +of fact these few shares had been Mark's own. Being excessively +pressed for ready money he had ordered his broker to sell them out. + +"Oh, Mr. Brackenbury!" said Mark, shaking hands with him in a cordial +manner. "Do you know, your name had completely escaped my memory. I +have not a moment to spare for you tonight. I am going out with my +wife to dinner." + +"Mr. Cray," said the visitor, a middle wed, solemn-looking man, "you +must return me my two hundred pounds. I have come for it." + +"Return you your two hundred pounds!" echoed Mark. "My good sir, I +don't understand you. What two hundred pounds?" + +"The two hundred pounds I paid for those shares. They were transferred +from your name to mine; therefore I know they were your own." + +"They were my own," said Mark. "What of that?" + +"Well, I must have the money returned to me, and you can receive back +the shares. I have brought them in my pocket. I am of a determined +spirit, sir, and I will have it returned." Mark flew into a rage. He +was a great man now, and great men do not take such words with +impunity. "You can have your money back tomorrow," he said, with +haughty contempt. "Take the shares to my broker--if you don't possess +one of your own--and he will repurchase them of you." + +"Ah," said Mr. Brackenbury. "But I want the money from you tonight. I +want it now." + +"Then you can't have it," returned Mark. + +Mr. Brackenbury advanced--both of them were standing--and laid his +finger on Mark's arm. "Mr. Cray, I have not come to you as an enemy; I +don't wish to be one, and there's no occasion for unpleasantness +between us. I want my money back, and I must have it--_I must have +it_, understand, and tonight. After that, I will hold my tongue as +long as it will serve you." + +Was the man talking Greek? was he out of his mind? What did it mean? +Mark's indignation began to lose itself in puzzled curiosity. + +"I have had a private telegram tonight from the mine," resumed Mr. +Brackenbury, dropping his voice to a cautious whisper. "Something is +amiss with it. I jumped into a Hansom----" + +"Something amiss with it!" interrupted Mark, cutting short the +explanation, and his tone insensibly changing to one of dread; for +that past summer's night which had brought the telegram to Mr. Barker +recurred vividly to his mind. "Is it water?" he breathed. + +Mr. Brackenbury nodded. "An irruption of water. I fear--you'll see, of +course--but I fear the mine and its prosperity are at an end. Now, Mr. +Cray, you repay me my money and I'll hold my tongue. If this does not +get about--and it shall not through me--you'll have time to negotiate +some of your shares in the market tomorrow morning, and put something +in your pocket before the disaster gets wind. I only want to secure +myself. Trifling as the sum of two hundred pounds may seem to you, its +loss to me would be utter ruin." + +Mark felt bewildered. "And if I do not give you the two hundred pounds +tonight, what then!" + +"Then I go out with the dawn of morning and publish the failure of the +mine to the City. I'll publish it tonight. But you'll not drive me to +that, Mr. Cray. I don't want to harm you; I have said it; but my money +I must have. It would not be pleasant for me to proclaim that there +has already been one irruption of water into the mine, which you and +Barker kept secret. I happen to know so much; and that the shares were +sold to me _after_ it, as I daresay shares have been sold to others. +Perhaps the public might look on that as a sort of fraud. _I_ do; for +I consider a mine never is safe, once the water has been in it." + +Mark paused. "It is strange that news of this should have come to you +tonight and not to me." + +"Not at all," said Mr. Brackenbury. "I am having the mine watched. It +is only lately that I heard about that first irruption of water: I did +not like it; and as I happen to have a friend down there I got him to +be on the look-out." + +"Is it any one connected with the mine?" asked Mark, sharply. + +"Yes, it is; no one else could do it. But that's of no consequence. I +had a telegram from him tonight----" + +"Will you let me see it!" interrupted Mark. + +"I did not bring it with me. It told me that the water was flowing +into the mine; _flowing_, mind; and it added these words. 'Not known +here yet.' I infer, therefore, that the men had left the mine for the +night, that the mischief will not be generally known there until the +morning, and consequently cannot be known here. You will have time to +save something." + +Mark felt as if water were flowing over him. He stood there under the +gas-burner--the servant had only lighted one--a picture of perplexity, +his face blank, his hand running restlessly through his hair, after +his old restless manner, the diamond studs in his shirt sparkling and +gleaming. All this sounded as though some treason, some treachery, +were at work. If this man could get news up, he and Barker ought to +have got it. + +A knock at the door. It opened about an inch, and Caroline's voice was +heard. + +"Mark, we _must_ go. We are keeping the dinner waiting." And Mark was +turning towards her, when Mr. Brackenbury silently caught him by the +arm, and spoke in a whisper. + +"No! Not until you have given me my money." + +"Allow me to say a word to my wife," said Mark, haughtily. "I will +return to you in an instant." + +Caroline stood there with questioning eyes and a rebellious face. Mark +shut the door while he spoke to her. + +"You must go on alone, my dear. I can't come yet. I'll join you later +in the evening." + +"Mark! What's that for?" + +"Hush! This gentleman has come up on business from the City, and I +must attend to him," whispered Mark. "I'll get rid of him as soon as I +can." + +He was hurrying her out to the carriage as he spoke, and he placed her +in it, she yielding to his strong will in her bewilderment. Once +seated in it then she spoke. + +"But, Mark, why should he come on business _now?_ What is the +business?" + +"Oh, it has to do with the Great Wheal Bang," said Mark, carelessly. +"It's all right; only I can't get away just at the minute. I won't be +long. They are not to wait dinner, mind." + +The carriage drove away, and Mark returned indoors. His unwelcome +visitor stood in the same place, apparently not having stirred hand or +foot. + +"How am I to know whether this news you have brought it true?" was +Mark's first question. And Mr. Brackenbury looked at him for a minute +before replying to it. + +"I don't altogether take you, Mr. Cray. You cannot think I should +knowingly bring you a false report; my character is too well respected +in the City for you to fear that; and you may rely upon it, unhappily, +that there's no mistake in the tidings forwarded to me." + +"Well--allowing that it shall prove to be true--why can't you take +your shares into the market and realise tomorrow morning, as well as +coming to me for the money tonight?" + +"Because I am not sure that I could realise!" was the frank response. +"I don't suppose the intelligence will be public by that time; I don't +think it will; but I cannot answer for it that it won't. You must give +me the money, Mr. Cray." + +Mark took an instant's gloomy counsel with himself. Might he dare to +defy this man, and refuse his demands He feared not. Mark was no more +scrupulous than are some other shareholders we have read of; and the +chance of realising something in the morning, to pit against the utter +ruin that seemed to be impending was not to be forfeited rashly. But +how was he to pay the money? He had not two hundred shillings in the +house, let alone two hundred pounds. + +"I can't give it you tonight," said Mark; "I have not got it to give." + +"I must and will have it," was the resolute answer. "I daresay you can +go out and get it somewhere: fifty people would be glad to lend you +money. I shall stay here until I have it. And if you deem me scant of +courtesy tonight, Mr. Cray, you may set it down to the sore feeling in +my mind at the circumstances under which the shares were sold to me. +I'd never have touched them had I suspected water had been already in +the mine." + +"That's talking nonsense," said Mark, in his irritation. "The mine was +as sound and as safe after the water had been in it as it was before. +It was nothing more than a threatening; nothing to hurt." + +"A threatening--just so. Well, it is of no use to waste time +squabbling over terms now. That will do no good." + +Mr. Brackenbury was right. It certainly would do no good. Mark went +out, leaving him there, for he refused to stir; and, not seeing a cab, +ran full speed to Mr. Barker's lodgings in Piccadilly. A Hansom could +not have gone quicker. It was not that he hoped Mr. Barker would +supply the two hundred pounds; that gentleman was as short of ready +cash as himself; but Mark was burning with impatience to impart the +disastrous news, and to hear whether Barker had had intelligence of +it. + +Disappointment. When Mark, panting, breathless, excited, seized the +bell of Mr. Barker's house and rang a peal that frightened the street, +he was told that Mr. Barker was not within. He had gone out in the +afternoon: the servant did not know where. + +"Has any telegram come up from Wales tonight?" gasped Mark. + +"Telegram, sir? No, sir; nothing at all has come tonight, neither +letter nor anything." + +"I'll be back in a short while," said Mark. "If Mr. Barker returns, +tell him to wait in for me. It is of the very utmost importance that I +should see him." + +He turned away, jumped into a cab that was passing, and ordered it to +drive to Parliament Street. The two hundred pounds he _must_ get +somehow, and he knew nobody he could apply to at the pinch, save +Oswald. + +Mark was not the only visitor to Oswald Cray that night. He had been +sitting alone, after his dinner, very deep in deliberation, when Benn +came up showing in a gentleman. It proved to be Henry Oswald. + +They had not met since the funeral of Lady Oswald twelve months +before, and at the first moment Oswald scarcely knew him. Henry Oswald +was a cordial-mannered man. He had not inherited the cold heart and +the haughty bearing so characteristic of the Oswalds of Thorndyke, and +he grasped Oswald's hand warmly. + +"I have been out of England nearly ever since we met, Oswald--I am +sure you will let me call you so, we are near relatives--or I should +have sought to improve the acquaintance begun at that short meeting. I +want you to be friendly with me. I know how wrong has been the +estrangement, and what cause you have to hate us; but surely you and I +can afford to do away with the prejudice that has kept you from +Thorndyke, and Thorndyke from you." + +Oswald saw how genuine were the words, how earnest the wish imparted +in them; and from that moment his "prejudice" went out of him, as far +as Henry Oswald was concerned, and his eye lighted up with an earnest +of the future friendship. He had liked Henry Oswald at that first +meeting; he liked him still. + +They sat together, talking of the days gone by, when they two were +unconscious children. Of Oswald's mother; of the conduct of her family +towards her; of the insensate folly--it was his son called it so--that +still estranged Sir Philip from Oswald Cray. They talked freely and +fully as though they had been intimate for years--far more +confidentially than Oswald had ever talked to his half-brother. + +"I shall be _proud_ of your friendship, Oswald," cried the young man, +warmly; "if that's not an ominous word for one of us. But I fancy you +inherit the family failing far more than I. You will be one of the +world's great men yet, making yourself a name that the best might +envy." + +Oswald laughed. "If the world envies those who work hard, then it may +envy me." + +"I can tell you what, Oswald, if work's not envied in these days, it +is honoured. In the old days of darkness--I'm sure I can call them so, +in comparison with these--it was such as I who were envied. The man +born with a silver spoon in his mouth, who need do nothing his whole +life long but sit down in idleness and enjoy his title and fortune, +and be clothed in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every +day--he got the honour then. _Now_ the man of industry and talent is +bowed down to, he who labours onwards and upwards to use and improve +the good gifts bestowed upon him by God. It may be wrong to say it, +but I do say it in all sincerity, that I, Henry Oswald, born to my +baronetcy, envy you, Oswald Cray, born to work." + +From one subject they went to another. In talking of the Cray family, +they spoke of Mark, and from Mark the transition to the Great Wheal +Bang Company was easy. Henry Oswald had heard and read of its promise, +and he now asked Oswald's opinion of its stability. He had a few +hundreds to spare for he had not been an extravagant man, and felt +inclined to embark them in the Great Wheal Bang. Oswald advised his +doing so. He himself had embarked all his saved cash in it, a thousand +pounds, and he thought he had done well. + +"Then I'll see about it tomorrow," decided Henry Oswald; "and get it +completed before I go down to Thorndyke." + +He departed soon, for he was engaged out that evening, and Oswald +resumed the train of thought which his entrance had interrupted. The +_deliberation_ it may be said. He was pondering a grave question: +Should he not despatch Frank Allister to Spain in place of himself? +Allister was equally capable; and two or three years' residence in +that climate might renovate him for life. It would be a great +sacrifice for him, Oswald; a sacrifice, in some degree, of name and +fame, and of pecuniary benefit; but he was a conscientious man, very +different from the generality of business men, who seek their own +elevation, no matter who is left behind. Oswald as a child had learnt +the good wholesome doctrine of doing to others as we would be done by: +and he _carried it out practically in life_, content to leave the +issue with God. How many of us can say as much? + +A few minutes' earnest thought and he raised his head with a clear +countenance. The decision was made. + +"Allister shall go," he said, half-aloud. "Should he get ill again in +this wretched climate next winter, and die, I should have it on my +conscience for ever. It will be a sacrifice for me: but how can I put +my advancement against his life? I ought not, and I will not." + +The words had scarcely left his lips when Mark came in. Not Mark as we +saw him just now, troubled, eager, panting; but Mark all coolness and +smiles. A little hurried, perhaps, but that was nothing. + +He had come to ask Oswald a favour. Would he accommodate him with a +cheque for two hundred pounds until the banks opened in the morning? A +gentleman, to whom was owing that sum on account of the Great Wheal +Bang bad urgent need of it that very night, and had come bothering +him, Mark, for it. If Oswald would accommodate him, he, Mark, should +feel very much obliged, and would return it in the morning with many +thanks. + +"I have not got as much of my own," said Oswald. + +"But you can give me a cheque of the firm's, can't you?" returned +Mark, playing carelessly with his diamond studs. + +Oswald did not much like this suggestion, and hesitated. Mark spoke +again. + +"It will be rendering me the greatest possible service, Oswald. The +fellow has to leave town, or something, by one of the night trains. +You shall have it back the first thing in the morning." + +"You are sure that I shall, Mark?" + +"Sure!" echoed Mark, opening his small grey eyes very wide in +surprise. "Of course I am sure. Do you think I should forget to bring +it you? Let me have it at once, there's a good brother. Carine will +think I am never coming; we have to go to two parties tonight." + +Oswald wrote the cheque and gave it him. It was a cheque of the firm: +"Bracknell, Street, and Oswald Cray:" for Oswald's name appeared now. + +And Mr. Mark carried it off with him. "There's a good brother," +indeed! I wonder how he slept that night! + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. +COMMOTION. + + +With the wing of the dawn--that is, with the wing of the dawn for +business in London--Mark Cray was at the offices in the City. Barker +was there before him, and started forward to meet him as he entered. +Mark had not succeeded in seeing Barker the previous night. + +"Cray, it's all up. I'm afraid it's all up." + +"Have you heard from Wales?" + +"I got a telegram this morning. There's an irruption of water, in +earnest this time. It's flowing in like so many pumps. Look here." + +Mark's hands shook as he laid hold of the telegram. "I wasn't in bed +till three o'clock," said he, as if he would give an excuse for the +signs of agitation. But though he tried to account for his shaking +hands, he could not for his scared face. + +Yes Mr. Barker was no doubt right: it was "all up" with the Great +Wheal Bang. Mark and he stood alone over the table in the board-room: +in consultation as to what they could do, and what they might do. + +Might they dare--allowing that the public still reposed in happy +security--to take some shares into the market, and secure themselves +something out of the wreck? Barker was all for doing it; at any rate +for _trying_ it--"whether it would work," he said. Mark hung back in +indecision: he thought there might be after-consequences. He told +Barker the episode of Mr. Brackenbury's visit, and of his satisfying +that gentleman with the cheque of Bracknell, Street, and Oswald Cray, +which cheque was no doubt cashed by that time. + +"Mean old idiot!" apostrophised Mr. Barker. "That's always the way +with those petty people. They'll make more fuss over their paltry +hundred pounds or two than others do over thousands. I'd not have paid +him, Mark." + +"I couldn't help it," said Mark. "You should have seen the work he +made. Besides, if I had not, he'd have proclaimed the thing from one +end of London to another." + +"Well, about these shares," said Barker. "We must make as much as ever +we can. Will you go, or shall I?" + +"Perhaps it's known already," returned Mark, dubiously. + +"Perhaps it isn't. Brackenbury gave you his word that he'd keep quiet, +and who else is likely to know it? Letters _can't_ get here till the +afternoon post, and nobody at the mine would make it their business to +telegraph up." + +Mark stood in restless indecision. When annoyed, he was fidgety to a +degree; could not be still. Perhaps he had inherited his mother's +temperament He pushed back his hair incessantly; he fingered nervously +the diamond studs in his shirt. Mark was not in the habit of wearing +those studs by day, or the curiously fine embroidery they were +adorning. Whether, in his confusion of faculties, he had put in the +studs that morning, or had absently retired to rest in his shirt the +previous night, studs and all, must be left to conjecture. + +"Look here, Barker," said he. "If news had not come to _us_ of the +disaster, to you and to me, I'd willingly have taken every share we +possess into the market, and got the money for them down, if I could. +But the news _has_ come: and I don't think it would do." + +"Who's to know it has come?" asked Barker. + +"Well, things do often come out, you know; they nearly always do; +especially if they are not wanted to. Perhaps the telegraph office +could be brought up to prove it, or something of that." + +"Well?" said Barker. + +"Well," repeated Mark. "It mightn't do." + +"Oh, bother, Cray! We must do it. We must stand out through thick and +thin afterwards that the message never reached us. I could; and you +are safe, for you have not had one at all. Look at our position. We +_must_ realise. Of course we can't attempt to negotiate many shares; +that would betray us; but a few we might, and must. We must, for our +own sakes we can't stand naked, without a penny to fall back upon." + +Mark still hesitated. "I'd have done it with all the pleasure in life +but for this telegram," he reiterated. "For one thing, Oswald would +never forgive me; my name's the same as his, you know; and I shall +have to face him over this two hundred pounds: that will be bad +enough. And there's my mother. And my wife, Barker; you forget her." + +"I don't forget her. I am thinking of her," was Mr. Barker's answer. +"It's for her sake, as much as ours, that you ought to secure a little +ready money. You'll want it. I know that much, for I have been down in +luck before." + +Mark looked irresolute and pitiably gloomy. "I don't see my way +clear," he resumed, after a pause. "Let's put the thing into plain +black and white. I go out, and sell some shares, and get the money +paid down for them, and pocket it. An hour afterwards the news spreads +that the mine's destroyed, and the shares are consequently worthless. +Well, Barker, my belief is that they could proceed against me +criminally for disposing of those shares----" + +"Not if you did not know the mine was wrong when you took them into +the market." + +"Nonsense," returned Mark, irritably, "they'd be sure to know it. I +tell you it would be safe to come out by hook or by crook. They'd call +it felony, or swindling, or some such ugly name. Do you suppose I'm +going to put my head into that noose? I was born a gentleman." + +"And do you suppose I wish either of us to do it?" retorted Barker. "I +shouldn't be such a fool. I never go into a thing unless I know I can +fight my way out of it. I shall take a few shares into the market, and +feel my way. I shall sell them for money, if I can; and you shall +share it, Mark. I suppose you won't object to that." + +No, certainly, Mark would have no objection to that. + +"I did not hear of the disaster until later, you know," said Barker, +winking. "News of it came up to us by the afternoon post. If they do +find out about the telegram, why, I never opened it. Nobody saw me +open it," added Barker, with satisfaction. "I have had so many up from +the mine at my lodgings that the servants sign and put them in my +sitting-room as a matter of course. This one was put there this +morning, and I found it when I came down, but nobody was in the room. +Oh, it will be all right. And I say, Mark, if----" + +Mr. Barker's smooth projects were stopped. Absorbed in their +conversation, he and Mark had alike failed to notice a gradually +gathering hum in the street outside. A very gentle, almost +imperceptible hum at first, but increasing to a commotion now. With +one bound they reached the window. + +A concourse of people, their numbers being augmented every moment, had +assembled beneath. They were waiting for the opening of the offices of +the Great Wheal Bang at ten o'clock. And the hour was almost on the +point of striking. + +"It's all up," shouted Barker in Mark's ear. "The news is abroad, and +they have heard of it. Look at their faces!" + +The faces were worth looking at, though not as a pleasant sight. +Anger, rage, disappointment, above all _impatience_, were depicted +there. The impatience of a wolf waiting to spring upon its prey. One +of the faces unluckily turned its gaze upwards and caught sight of +Barker's. Barker saw it; he had not been quick enough in drawing away +from the window. + +"They'll not be kept out now, doors or no doors," said he quietly to +Mark. + +Mr. Barker was right. Ere the words had died away upon his lips a +sound as if the walls of the house were being beaten in ensued. The +bells commenced a perpetual peal the knocker knocked incessantly, the +doors were pushed and kicked and thumped. In the midst of it rose the +sound of human voices in a roar: disjointed words distinguishable +amidst the tumult. "Let us in! Come out to us!" + +Mr. Barker advanced to the stairs, and leaned over the balustrades. +"Williams," he called out to an attendant official below, "you can +open the doors. The gentlemen may come up." + +It was curious to note the difference in the two men. Barker was as +cool as a cucumber; self-possessed as ever he had been in his life; +ready to make the best of everything, and quite equal to the +emergency. Mark Cray, on the contrary, seemed to have parted alike +with his wits and his nerves. Not more completely did he lose his +presence of mind in that long past evening which had been so fatal to +Lady Oswald. His hands shook as with terror; his faff was white as +death. + +"Will they pull us to pieces, Barker?" + +"Pooh!" said Barker, with a laugh at the evident tremor. "What has +taken you, Mark? Let them rave on a bit without answering, and they'll +calm down. Put _that_ in your pocket," he continued. "It will be a +trifle to fall back upon." + +He had touched the diamond ring that glittered on Mark Cray's finger. +Mark obeyed like a child. He took it from his hand and thrust it into +his waistcoat pocket; next he buttoned his coat, some vague feeling +perhaps prompting him to hide the studs; but he did it all +mechanically, as one not conscious of his actions. Terror was holding +its sway over him. + +"Why should they be excited against us? Heaven knows we have not +intentionally wronged them." + +"That's just the question I shall ask them myself when they are cool +enough to listen to it," rejoined Barker with a gay air. "Now then +comes the tug of war." + +In they came, thick and threefold, dashing up the stairs and pouring +into the room like so many bees. And then it was found that Mark's +apprehensions had been somewhat premature. For these shareholders had +come flowing to the offices not so much to abuse the projectors of the +company as to inquire the true particulars of the disaster. The news +had gone forth in a whisper--and to this hour neither Mark nor Barker +knows how, or through whom, it had oozed out--but that whisper was +vague and uncertain. Naturally those interested flew to the offices +for better information. Was the damage of great extent? and would the +mine and the company stand it? + +Barker was of course all suavity. He treated the matter more as a joke +than anything else, making light of it altogether. An irruption of +water? well, perhaps a little drop had got in, but they must wait for +the afternoon's post. It would be all right. + +He looked round for Mark, hoping that gentleman's face would not +arouse suspicion; but he could not see him. Mark, as Barker learnt +afterwards, had contrived to escape from the room as the throng +entered, and got into the street unnoticed, and leaped into a cab. +Mark was beside himself that morning. + +The unfortunate news spread from one end of London to the other. It +was carried to Oswald Cray; but the day was advancing then. "The Great +Wheal Bang Company had exploded, and there was a run upon the office." +Oswald was startled; and betook himself at once to the premises, as +the rest had done. On his way he called in upon Henry Oswald, and +spoke a word of caution. + +"It may be a false rumour," said he; "I hope it is. But don't do +anything in the shares until you know." + +A false rumour! When Oswald reached the offices he found it all too +true a one. The secretary to the company, without meaning to do +ill--indeed he had let it out in his lamentation--had unwittingly +disclosed the fact of the previous irruption of water in the summer: +and the excited crowd were going wild with anger. Many of them had +bought their shares at a period subsequent to that. + +Oswald heard this, and went to Mr. Barker in the board-room. That +gentleman, rather heated certainly, but with unchanged suavity of +demeanour, was still doing his best to reassure everybody. Oswald drew +him aside. + +"What a dreadful thing this is! What is the real truth of it?" + +"Hush!" interrupted Mr. Barker. "No need to tell the worst to them. You +are one of us. I'm afraid it is all up with the mine; but we will keep +it from them as long as we can. Anyway, it's no fault of ours." + +"What is it that they are saying about an irruption of water having +occurred in the summer?" + +"Well, so it did," answered Mr. Barker, whose past few hours' +temporising with the crowd caused him perhaps to throw off reserve to +Mr. Oswald Cray as a welcome relief. "But it wasn't much, that; and we +succeeded in keeping it dark." + +"Did Mark know of it?" + +"Mark know of it!" rejoined Barker; "of course he knew of it. What +should hinder him? Why, the telegram bringing the news was given me at +Mark's house; and, by the way, you were present, I remember. It was +the evening that old doctor in the yellow trousers was there, with his +two frights of daughters." + +The scene rose as in a mirror before Oswald's memory. Dr. Ford and his +daughters, Miss Davenal and Sara, Caroline Cray in her silks and her +beauty. He remembered the telegram, he remembered that it appeared to +disturb both Barker and Mark; and he remembered Mark's denial to him +that anything was amiss with the mine. + +"I do recollect it," he said aloud. "It struck me--perhaps it was +rather singular it should do so--that something was wrong. Mark +declared to me that it was not so." + +The words seemed to tickle Barker uncommonly. + +"Ah," said he, laughing, "Mark told me of it, and how he turned you +off the scent. You'd not have put your thousand into it, perhaps, had +you known of the water." + +"Perhaps not," quietly replied Oswald. "And my thousand was wanted, I +suppose." + +"Law! you don't know the money that's been wanted," was the response. +"And that irruption of water, slight as it was, made the demand for it +worse. The mine has sucked it in like a sponge." + +Oswald made no answering remark. "I suppose this irruption is worse +than that?" he presently observed. + +"Indeed I fear this is another thing altogether--ruin. But we ion% +know anything certain until the post comes in this afternoon. We have +had no letter yet." + +"How did the news of it come to you?" + +"By telegram. But the first news came to Mark; in an odd manner, too. +A curmudgeon of a shareholder, old Brackenbury, went up yesterday +evening to Mark just as he was going out to dinner with his wife, and +insisted upon his paltry money, only two hundred pounds, being +returned to him. He was inclined to be nasty; and if Mark had not +satisfied him he'd have gone over London proclaiming that the mine was +overflowing with water. The odd thing is, who could have telegraphed +the news to him. We must have a traitor in the camp. Mark told me--oh, +ah," broke off Mr. Barker, interrupting himself as a recollection +flashed upon him--"I think he got the two hundred from you." + +"And Mark knew the mine was then ruined!" returned Oswald, drawing in +his lips, but not losing his calm equanimity. + +"Brackenbury _said_ it was. He didn't know it otherwise. +Brackenbury--Halloa! what's that?" + +It was a shout in the street. A shout composed of roars, and hisses, +and groans. Drawing up to the door of the offices was the handsome +carriage of Mark Cray; and the crowd had turned their indignation upon +it. + +One look, one glimpse of the white and terror-stricken faces of its +inmates, and Oswald Cray bounded down the stairs. They were the faces +of Mrs. Cray and Sara Davenal. + +What could have brought them there? + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. +DAY-DREAMS RUDELY INTERRUPTED. + + +Before a costly breakfast service of Sèvres porcelain, with its +adjuncts of glittering silver, on the morning subsequent to the visit +of Mr. Brackenbury, had sat Caroline Cray, in a charming morning robe +of white muslin and blue ribbons, with what she would have called a +_coiffure_, all blue ribbons and white lace, on her silky hair. A +stranger, taking a bird's-eye view of the scene, of the elegant room, +the expensive accessories, the recherché attire of its mistress, would +have concluded that there was no lack of means, that the income +supporting all this must at least be to the extent of some thousands +a-year. + +In truth Mark Cray and his wife were a practical illustration of that +homely but expressive saying which must be so familiar to you all; +_they had begun at the wrong end of the ladder_. When fortune has +come; when it is actually realised, in the hands, then the top of the +ladder, comprising its Sèvres porcelain and other costs in accordance, +may be safe and consistent; but if we _begin_ there without first +climbing to it, too many of us have an inconvenient fashion of +slipping down again. The furniture surrounding Caroline Cray was of +the most beautiful design, the most costly nature; the lace on that +morning-robe, on that pretty "coiffure," would make a hole in a £20 +bank-note, the silver ornaments on the table were fit for the first +palace in the land, and Mr. and Mrs. Cray had got these things about +them--and a great deal more besides which I have not time to tell you +of--anticipatory of the fortune that was _to be_ theirs; not that +already _was_. And now their footing on that high ladder was beginning +to tremble: just as that of the milkmaid did when she sent the milk +out of her milk-pails, and so destroyed her dreams. + +Caroline sat at her late breakfast, toying with a fashionable +newspaper--that is, one giving notice of the doings of the fashionable +world--sipping her coffee, flirting with some delicate bits of +buttered roll, casting frequent glances at the mirror opposite to her, +in whose polished plate was reflected that pretty face, which in her +pardonable vanity she believed had not its compeer. All unconscious +was she of that turbulent scene then being enacted in the City; of the +fact that her husband was at that moment finding his way to her in a +cab, into which he had jumped to hide himself in abject fear and +dismay. Caroline had slept sound and late after her night's gaiety, +and awoke in the morning to find her husband had gone out. + +The French clock behind her struck eleven, and she finished her +breakfast quickly, and began thinking over her plans for the day. Some +excursion into the country had been spoken of for the afternoon, and +now Mark was gone she was at an uncertainty. Mrs. Cray tapped her +pretty foot in petulance on the carpet, and felt exceedingly angry +with the tiresome stranger who had disturbed her husband when he was +dressing on the previous evening, and kept him from going out with her +to dinner. + +"How long did that gentleman stop here last night, George!" she +suddenly asked of the servant who was removing the breakfast things. +"Mr.-- what was the name? Brackenbury, I think." + +"He stopped a good while, ma'am. I think it was between nine and ten +when he left." + +"What a shame! Keeping Mr. Cray all that while. I wonder he stayed +with him! _I_ wouldn't. I'd make people come to me in business hours, if +I were Mark." + +She sat on, after the departure of the breakfast things, leaning back +in an easy chair and turning carelessly the leaves of a new novel, +those that would open, for she did not exert herself to cut them. A +very listless mood was she in that morning, tired and out of sorts. By +and by her maid came in to ask about some alteration that was to be +made in a dress, and Caroline told her to bring the dress to her. + +That a little aroused her. It was a beautiful evening dress of +flowered silk, and she stood over the table where the maid laid it +consulting with her about some change in the colour of the trimmings. +Becoming absorbed in this, she scarcely noticed that some one had come +into the hall and opened the door of the room. Some expression in the +maid's countenance as she looked up caught her attention, and she +turned quickly round. + +Mark was there, glancing into the room. Mark with a white aspect and a +scared dreamy look on his face. Before Caroline had time to question, +in fact almost before she looked, he was gone and had closed the door +again. So quiet had been the movement, so transient the vision, that +Caroline spoke in her surprise. + +"Was not that your master?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Something was the matter, I think. He looked ill." + +"I will go and see. Mind, Long, I'll decide upon pink. It is the +prettiest colour." + +"Very well, ma'am. As you please, of course. I only think pink won't +go so well with the dress as violet." + +"I tell you, Long, that violet _will not_ light up. You know it won't, +without my having to reiterate it over to you. No colour lights up so +bad as violet. Pink: and let the ruchings be very full and handsome." + +Speaking the last words in a peremptory tone, she went in search of +Mark. He was standing upright in the dining-room, in the midst of its +floor, looking more like a man lost than a man in his composed senses. + +"Mark, what's the matter?" + +He turned to his wife,--he had been undecided whether to tell her or +not. It was a question he debated with himself on his way down: that +is, it had been floating through his mind in a sort of undercurrent. +To concentrate his thoughts deliberately upon one point sufficiently +to debate it was that day beyond the power of Mark Cray. + +Mark's true disposition was showing itself now. Vacillating and +unstable by nature, utterly deficient in that moral courage which +meets an evil when it comes, and looks it steadily in the face to see +how it may be best dealt with, the blow of the morning had taken away +what little sense Mark possessed. He was as a frightened child; a ship +without a rudder; he was utterly unable to distinguish what his proper +course ought to be: he did not know where to go or what to do; his +chief thought was, to get away from the torrent that had broken loose. +He must hide himself from the storm, but he could not face it. + +When he jumped into the cab, and the driver had said, "Where to, sir?" +he gave his home in Grosvenor Place in answer, simply because he could +not think of another direction to give in that bewildering moment: so +the cab drove on. But Mark did not want to go to Grosvenor Place. He +had nothing to get from there: he had no business there, and a feeling +came over him that he had rather not meet his wife just then. He +wanted to hide himself and his bewildered mind and his scared face in +some nook of remote shelter, far from the haunts of men, where that +remorseless crowd, just escaped from, would not pounce upon him. Mark +had not given himself time to ascertain that their disposition was +pacificatory: he was wondering rather whether they had yet pulled the +offices down. Neither Mark Cray nor Caroline was fitted to encounter +the storms of life. So long as the sailing was smooth it was well; but +when the waves arose, rough and turbulent, the one proved physically, +the other morally, unable to breast them. + +Mark stopped the cab as it was turning into Grosvenor Place; some +vague feeling prompting him that it might be safer to steal quietly +into his home than to dash up to it in a cab. The tidings had perhaps +travelled far and wide, and people might be already there, as well as +at the offices. Mark was half determined to make the best of his way +at once to the scene of the Great Wheal Bang itself, the mine; and see +with his own eyes whether things were so bad that they could not be +mended. At least he should be away from his furious enemies in London. +One more under the influence of reason than Mark Cray might have +thought it well to ascertain whether those enemies were so furious, +before running from them. When a man of no moral courage loses his +presence of mind, he merits pity perhaps rather than condemnation. + +"Mark, what's the matter?" + +With her actual presence before him, with the pointed question on her +lips, Mark Cray's indecision went completely out. He could no more +have told her the truth at that moment, that the golden prospects so +implicitly believed in had turned to ruin, and the offices yonder were +being besieged by noisy shareholders, than he could have told it to +the besiegers themselves. + +"The matter?" repeated Mark, at a loss for any other answer. + +"You look as if something were the matter, Mark. And what have you +come back for?" + +"Oh, I left some papers at home," answered Mark, speaking as +carelessly as he could. "There's nothing the matter with me. The +fellow drove fast, that's all. I gave him an extra sixpence." + +Perhaps Caroline did not deem this communication particularly relevant +to the subject. "What made you go away so early, Mark?" she asked. +"You never settled anything about Hendon today." + +"Well, I don't think I can go," said Mark. "I'll--I'll see later. +Hark!" + +Mark's "hark" was spoken in echo to a thundering knock at the door. A +knock and a ring enough to shake the house down. He looked round at +the walls for a moment as if he wanted to make a dash into them; he +stepped towards the window, hesitated, and drew away again; finally he +opened the door to escape, but too late, for voices were already in +the hall. Caroline looked at her husband in wondering dismay. + +"Mark, what has come to you?" + +"Hush!" whispered Mark, the perspiration welling up to his forehead, +as he bent his head to catch the sound from those voices. "Hark! +hush!" + +"Is Mr. Cray at home?" + +"No, sir. He went to the City early this morning." How Mark Cray +blessed his servant for the unconscious mistake, he alone could tell. +The man had not seen his master come in, and had no idea he was in the +house. + +"Gone to the City, is he? Are you sure?" + +"Quite sure, sir." + +A pause. Mark's heart was beating. + +"What time will he be home?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +Another pause. "I suppose Mr. Barker's not here?" + +"Mr. Barker? O dear no, sir." + +And that was followed by the closing of the hall-door. Mark Cray gave +a great gasp of relief, and went upstairs to his own room. + +He did not stay there above a minute. Caroline--she remembered it +afterwards--heard a drawer or two opened and shut. She had been +following him, but was momentarily detained by a question from her +maid, who was coming out of the breakfast-room with the dress upon her +arm. Caroline stopped while she answered it, and in going up the +stairs she met Mark coming down. + +"Who was that at the door, Mark? Did you think it was any one in +particular?" + +"I don't know who it was." + +"You seemed alarmed. Or annoyed." + +"Well," returned Mark, speaking rather fast, "and it is annoying to +have business fellows corning after me to my house. Why can't they go +to the offices?" + +"To be sure," said Caroline, reassured. "I'd not see a soul here, if I +were you." + +He had been walking on towards the hall-door while he spoke. But ere +he had well reached it, he turned, and drew his wife into one of the +rooms. + +"Look here, Caroline: I'm not sure but I shall have to go down to the +mines tonight. If so, it is just possible I may not be able to come +here first. So you won't be alarmed if you don't see me home." + +"What a hurry you must be in!" exclaimed Caroline. "Not come home +first!" + +"But if I do go, mind, it will be on a little private matter that I +don't want known," he continued, taking no notice of the remark. "So, +if anybody should ask where I am, just answer that you can't tell, but +that I shall be back in a day or two. Do you understand, Carine?" + +"Quite well. But, Mark, you will come home first, won't you?" + +"I only tell you this in case I don't come," he answered evasively. "I +have a good deal to do today. Goodbye, Carine." + +"But about Hendon?" she interrupted. + +"Hendon? Oh, I am quite sure I shan't have time for Hendon today. If +you don't like to go without me, we must put it off for a day or two." +He stooped to kiss her. Opening the hall-door, he stood on the steps, +looking right and left; carelessly, as it seemed; in reality, +cautiously. Very timorous was Mark Cray in that hour; he did not like +that people should have hunted him to his very home. Then he turned to +the Victoria Station, perhaps as the nearest point of refuge. He would +make his way to Wales, to the mine, as straightly and speedily as he +could, consistent with precaution. + +Mark had been gone the best part of an hour, and it was hard upon +midday. His wife was just deliberating whether to go shopping in the +afternoon, or make calls, or pay a visit to the empty park, or take a +drive out of town; which way, in short, would be the least tedious of +killing the precious time that God had given her, when she was aroused +by a formidable summons at the door, and a noise as of many steps and +voices besieging the hall. + +What next took place Caroline never clearly remembered. Confused +recollections remained to her afterwards of angry demands for Mr. +Cray, of indignant denials to the servant's assertion that his master +was in the City; the hubbub was great, the voices were threatening. +Caroline's first surprise was superseded by indignation; and that in +its turn gave place to alarm. + +You all know what it is to pour oil upon a spark of fire previously +ready to burst forth into a flame. When the Great Wheal Bang's +shareholders had flocked to the Great Wheal Bang's offices that +morning they were on the balance, as may be said, between war and +peace; somewhat uncertain in their own minds whether to treat Mark +Cray and Mr. Barker as unfortunate fellow-sufferers with themselves, +or to expend upon them their wrongs and their wrath. That mistake +of the Great Wheal Bang's secretary--as alluded to in the last +chapter--turned the scale. In his dismay and confusion he +inadvertently referred to the former irruption of water, and the +unlucky disclosure maddened the throng. They forthwith looked upon +themselves as dreadfully injured people; in fact they jumped to the +conclusion that the Great Wheal Bang itself was little better than a +swindle; so apt are we all to rush into extremes. Barker did what he +could to stem the torrent; but the crowd vociferously demanded to see +Mark Cray. It was he they had known mostly in the affair, for Barker +was usually at the mine. And, not finding Mark answer to their +demands, some of them tore off on the spur of the moment in Hansom +cabs to his residence. + +Caroline stood the very image of dismay. She did not show herself; she +was too much alarmed; she peeped from the half-closed dining-room door +and listened, just as Mark had done a short while before. Confused +words of "water" and "mine" and "swindle" and "ruin" saluted her ears; +and the demands for Mr. Cray became more threateningly imperative. +Some movement of the door occurred; she staggered against it; and it +was observed from the hall. Perhaps it was only natural to the +belligerents to conclude that Mark Cray was there. They pressed +forward to the room; but upon seeing that the lady was its only +occupant, the young and lovely lady in her gala morning dress and the +roses chased from her cheeks by fear, they drew back and clustered +outside it. + +"What is it you want!" gasped Caroline from her trembling lips. + +One of the foremost answered her. He was a gentleman, and he raised +his hat, and made his tone as courteous as his sense of injury +allowed. They were very sorry to disturb her, but they must see Mr. +Cray. They had come to see him and they would see him. + +"I assure you that he is not here," said Caroline, her earnest voice +carrying truth with it. "He has been gone some time." + +"He was at the offices this morning, madam, and disappeared. We were +told he had no doubt come home." + +"It is true," she answered. "He went to the offices very early, and +came home again about eleven o'clock for something he had forgotten, +papers I think he said. He did not stay two minutes; he got them and +went back again. What is it that is the matter?" + +"Back to the offices?" they asked, disregarding the question. + +"Yes, back to the offices. He said he must make haste, for he had a +great deal to do today. I am sure you will find him there." She had no +suspicion that she was asserting what was not true. Whether they +believed it or not--though most of them did believe it--they had no +resource but to act upon it. Filing out again, they jumped into the +cabs, and rattled back at the rate of nine-and-twenty miles an hour. + +Leaving Mrs. Cray in a grievous state of perplexity and of distress: +for they had spoken of "ruin" as connected with the mine. She was one +of those who cannot bear suspense: she had no patience; no endurance, +not even for an hour. In a tumult of hurry and emotion, she had her +carriage brought round, called for Sara Davenal, to whom, however, she +did not tell what had taken place, and drove on to the City almost as +fast as those cabs had driven, to get an explanation of Mark. + +The cabs had arrived previously, and their occupants found they had +been deceived. No Mark Cray was at the offices, or had been there +since his first departure from them. They burst bounds, in tongue at +any rate, and talked of warrants and prosecutions and various +inconvenient things. Other shareholders joined in the general fury, +and it may perhaps be excused to them that when the carriage of Mark +Cray suddenly appeared in the general melée, they turned their rage +upon it. + +That is, they pressed round it and saluted it with reproaches not at +all soft or complimentary. Possibly in the moment's blind anger they +did not see that Mark himself was not its occupant. They were, on the +whole, men who knew how to behave themselves, and would have desisted, +perhaps apologised, when they had had time and calmness to see that +only ladies were there: but that time was not allowed them. + +One came, with his tall strong form, his pale, resolute, haughty face, +and pushed them right and left, as he laid his hand on the carriage +door. + +"Are you _men?_" he asked. "Don't you see that you are terrifying +these ladies? Stand back. I had thought----" + +"Oh, Oswald, save us! save us!" came the interrupting cry, as Caroline +Cray caught his hand. "What is it all? what has happened?" + +He got her out of the carriage and into some adjacent offices, whose +friendly doors were opened to them. Sara followed, unmolested, and +Oswald went back to rescue, if might be, the carriage. But the +gentlemen had been a little recalled to common-sense by the incident: +and the carriage was no longer in danger. Smashing Mark Cray's +carriage would not make good their losses, or bring forth him who was +missing. Oswald returned to Mrs. Cray. + +"It is all right again now," he said. "The carriage is waiting for you +a little further off. Shall I take you to it?" + +"But I want to go into the offices, Oswald," she feverishly rejoined. +"I want to see Mark. I must see him." + +"Mark is not at the offices. Neither would it be well that you should +go there just now." + +"Not at the offices! where is he then?" + +"I don't know where he is. I should like to find him." + +He spoke in a cold, proud, bitter tone, and it struck dismay to the +heart of Mrs. Cray. Indeed Oswald's frame of mind was one of the most +intense bitterness. He had been plausibly defrauded out of his money: +his pride, his sensitive honour, his innate justice, had been wounded +to the core. All this disgrace Mark Cray had been earning for himself; +Mark, his half-brother! + +"But I must see Mark," she reiterated in a helpless manner. "Don't you +know where I can go to find him, Oswald?" + +"I do not indeed." + +"I want to know what has happened. I heard them speak of ruin; of +water in the mine. Can _you_ tell me?" + +"News has come up that an irruption of water has taken place. I find +it is not the first: but the other, they say, was not serious." + +"And this is?" + +"I fear so." + +"But what right have those men to be so angry, so excited against +Mark? He did not let the water in." Oswald made no answer. If Mark had +treated those shareholders with the duplicity that he had treated him, +they had certainly a very good right to be angry and excited. + +Mrs. Cray turned towards the door in her restlessness to take a +reconnoitring glimpse of the state of affairs outside. Mark might have +come up! might be in the midst of the mob! Sara, who had waited for +the opportunity, drew near to Oswald Cray, and spoke in a whisper. + +"Is it ruin?" + +"Irretrievable--as I believe," he answered, his voice unconsciously +assuming a strange tenderness as he looked at her pale, sad face. +"Ruin for Mark Cray, perhaps for many others." And the words fell like +a shock of ice on her heart. What would become of the engagement that +she had made to repay the two hundred pounds to Mr. Wheatley from the +money owing her by Mark? + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. +THE EVENING OF THE BLOW. + + +It was the peculiarity of Miss Bettina Davenal to be more especially +deaf when suddenly surprised or annoyed. Possibly it is the same with +other deaf people. Sara Davenal stood before her in her drawing-room +striving to make her comprehend the state of affairs relative to the +Great Wheal Bang; and not at first successfully. Miss Bettina had not +understood why Mrs. Cray had driven round in hurried agitation that +morning and carried off Sara by storm: Caroline would not explain why, +and Sara could not. Sara had returned home now, willing to afford +every explanation; indeed believing it to be her duty so to do; but +Miss Bettina, offended at the morning's slight, was keeping her heart +closed; and when _that_ was shut, the ears would not open. + +"_What_ d'you say? You went up to the offices? I should like to know +what took you and Caroline to the offices? Young ladies don't require +to go to such places." + +"She went to try to see Mark, aunt." + +"Ugh!" growled Miss Bettina. "Mark told her, indeed! If Mark Cray told +her to go down the mine amidst the lead, she'd do it. Doesn't he see +enough of her at home?" + +"She went to try to see Mark, Aunt Bettina," repeated Sara, more +slowly. "I--I am afraid they are ruined." + +"Serve them right," returned Miss Bettina, catching the last word, but +attaching no importance to it. + +"Some disastrous news has been received from Wales, from the mine. +Caroline says a Mr. Brackenbury called in Grosvenor Place last +night----" + +"Mr. who?" + +"Mr. Brackenbury. She did not know then why he called, but Mr. Oswald +Cray has now told her that he brought the first news of it to Mark. It +had come up to him by telegram." + +Miss Bettina Davenal bent her ear. "He came up by telegram! What do +you mean by that? Have they got a new invention that brings up people, +pray? Why are you not more careful how you speak, Miss Sara Davenal?" + +"I said the news came up by telegram, aunt. It came to Mr. +Brackenbury; and that's why he called on Mark last night. At least so +Mr. Oswald Cray told Caroline. Caroline had been surprised or annoyed +at his visit; she did not understand it; and she mentioned it to Mr. +Oswald Cray." + +Miss Bettina lifted her hands helplessly. "What's any Mr. Brackenbury +to me?--or Oswald Cray either? I want to know why Caroline took you to +those offices today?" + +"I am trying to tell you, aunt," said poor Sara. "Mark went up to the +offices early this morning before Caroline was awake; he came home +again about eleven, saying he had forgotten something, but Caroline +thought his manner absent and strange. He left again, and soon after +the house was invaded by quite a crowd of men, gentlemen, demanding to +see him----" + +"Had they got an organ with them?" + +Miss Bettina's interruption took Sara rather aback. "An organ, aunt? I +don't know what you mean." + +"Not know what I mean!" was the wrathful answer. "Crowds don't collect +round houses unless there's a cause; organs or monkeys, or some such +nonsense. What did they collect there for?" + +Sara bent her head lower and strove to speak with even more +distinctness. "It was a crowd of gentlemen, aunt; gentlemen from the +City; though perhaps I ought not to have said a crowd, but it was what +Caroline called it to me. They came down in Hansom cabs, she said, and +they were fierce in their demands to see Mark, and they'd hardly go +away again, and they said the mine was ruined. Caroline was alarmed, +and she went up herself to try to see Mark, but she did not like to go +alone, and came round for me." + +The words were as a hopeless jumble in Miss Bettina's ear; their sense +nowhere. "I wish you'd be clear," she said, tartly. "If you want to +tell me a thing, tell it in a straightforward manner. Why do you mix +up crowds and organs with it?" + +"Dear aunt, I never said a word about an organ. +The--mine--is--ruined," she added, almost out of heart with her task. + +"What's ruined?" shrieked Miss Bettina. + +"The mine. The Great Wheal Bang." Miss Bettina heard this time. She +had lived in expectation of the news ever since the Great Wheal Bang +first jumped into existence. Nevertheless it scared her; and an +expression of dismay sat on her refined features as she turned them on +Sara with a questioning gaze. + +"I believe the water has got in. They say it is utter ruin. And Mark +Cray can't be found." + +"What has Mark Cray found?" + +"_He_ can't be found, aunt. He was not at the offices when we got +there, and the shareholders--as I suppose the people were--attacked +the carriage: some of them have sunk a great deal of money in the +mine. There was no real danger, of course; but Mr. Oswald Cray got us +out of it." + +Miss Bettina stared hopelessly. "Oswald Cray got you out of the mine! +What _are_ you talking of?" + +"Out of the carriage, aunt; not out of the mine. That's in Wales." + +"Do you suppose I thought it was in London?" retorted offended Miss +Bettina. "You'll be obligingly informing me where London is next. +Where _is_ Mark Cray?" + +"No one seems to know. His wife does not; except that he said to her +he might have to go down to Wales this evening, and she was not to +mention it. She is in great uncertainty and distress." + +"What's she in?" + +"Uncertainty, distress," repeated Sara. "She is as frightened as a +child. I fear she will not be a good one to bear misfortune. I went +home with her and remained some time; it was that made me so late. +When I came away she was growing very angry with Mark: she says he +ought to have told her of it this morning." + +"And so he ought," said Miss Bettina. "Ah! I never cordially approved +that match for Caroline, and the doctor knew it. She'll see what he's +made of now. You say you came in contact with the shareholders: what +did they say?" + +Sara hesitated. "They were saying very disagreeable things, Aunt +Bettina." + +"That's not telling me what they said." + +"They talked of deceit and--and swindling. They seem dreadfully bitter +against Mark Cray." + +"Dreadfully what against him?" + +"Bitter." + +"Oh," said Miss Bettina. "Mark Cray's a fool in more ways than one; +but they should blame themselves, not him. Mark told them the mine was +of gold, I daresay; but it was their fault if they believed it. A man +might come to me and say, If you will give me a ten-pound note I'll +bring it you back tomorrow doubled, and if I fell into the trap I +ought not to turn my anger on him. Mark Cray _believed_ in the mine: +those schemers are so sanguine." + +Sara bent her head until her lips almost touched her aunt's ear, and +lowered her voice to a cautious tone: but somehow it was terribly +distinct to Miss Bettina. + +"Aunt, I fear it is not quite so straightforward as you think. There +was an irruption of water in the summer--a slight one, I fancy--and +Mark and Mr. Barker concealed it. It is this which makes the +shareholders so angry, and, they say--they say they can prosecute him +for it." + +"Who said this?" asked Miss Bettina, after a pause. + +"I can hardly tell who. We heard a great deal of talking altogether. +One gentleman came up to Mr. Oswald Cray as he was taking us to the +carriage again, and asked him if he was not Mark's brother. Oswald +replied that he was Mark's half-brother; and then the gentleman said +harsh things, and Oswald could not stop him, and could not get us by." + +Miss Bettina poured forth question upon question. Incensed as she had +been against Mark Cray and his wife for the past months, much as she +had blamed their folly, sharp as were her prophecies of the final +results, perhaps this was worse than she had bargained for. She had +looked for ruin, but not for criminal disgrace. + +"And Mark can't be found, you say?" she asked, her tone a shrill one. + +"No." + +She sat down to the dinner-table, for the day had gone on to evening, +despatching Neal for a fly while she ate a bit, and then she went out, +taking Sara. "Grosvenor Place," she said to Neal And that observant +domestic knew by the compressed lips, the clasped hands, the rigid +head, how inwardly flurried was his mistress. + +They found Caroline in a state of emotion, bordering upon hysteria. +Fear, anger, perplexity, and despair, succeeding each other so rapidly +that her mood may have been said to savour of the whole at once. Poor +Caroline Cray knew nothing of either endurance or reticence; her anger +against Mark was great at the present moment, and she gave way to it +loudly. + +"Where is he?" was the first pointed question of Miss Davenal. + +"I don't know where he is. He might have trusted me. It's not his +fault if the water has come into the mine, and he had no cause to go +away; but if he had gone, he might have taken me. Barker has been down +here in a dreadful passion, and says Mark was not a good fellow to +steal a march on him and leave him alone all day to fight the battle +with the shareholders. A hundred people, about, have been here after +Mark, and it's a shame that I should be left to hear all the remarks." + +"Is Oswald Cray with you?" asked Miss Bettina. + +"Oh, my goodness, I don't suppose he'll come here again," returned poor +Caroline, half beside herself. "I thought him cold and queer in his +manner today. Barker says he is vexed at losing his thousand pounds; +and that Mark got two hundred more from him last night after he knew +the mine had gone. Oswald said nothing to me, but of course he is +incensed at it." + +Miss Davenal had been listening with her hand to her ear, and she +heard pretty well. "Do you know the particulars of the calamity?" she +asked. "Is the mine irretrievably ruined!" + +"I don't know anything, except that I'm fit to go mad," she answered, +beginning to sob like a petulant child. + +In that one first moment of the blow Miss Davenal was generous enough +to spare reproaches for all the folly of the past, though she had +plenty at her tongue's end. She had not sat down since she entered; +she had stood rigid and upright; and when she went out to the fly she +ordered it to Mr. Oswald Cray's. + +"Tell the man to drive quickly," said Miss Bettina to Neal. "What do +you say, Sara? Let you stop with Caroline? Caroline wants neither you +nor me; I can see that. There'll be trouble over this." + +Mrs. Cray had not chosen an inapt word when she said Oswald must be +incensed against Mark. It was precisely Oswald's present state of +feeling. He saw that the thousand pounds had been nothing but a +stopgap; not drawn from him for his own good and benefit, as Mark so +largely boasted, but for Mark's own necessities. And as to the two +hundred pounds of the previous night, the money of the firm--Oswald +did boil over at the thought of that. Oh, why could not Mark have been +upright and open! why could he not have gone to Oswald with the truth +upon his lip, and said, Let me have this two hundred pounds in my dire +necessity, and I will repay you when I can! Oswald was not the brother +to refuse him. + +Oswald had had a battle with himself. When he returned home after that +scene in the city, feeling that his money, the twelve hundred pounds, +was irretrievably lost, he sat down and thought. Should he cancel the +offer made to Frank Allister to go out to Spain, and take the +appointment himself, as at first intended? Was he justified in +foregoing it, under this unexpected loss? The same considerations +swayed him now as previously; his own interest versus Frank's health, +perhaps life; but how weighty a balance was now thrown into his own +scale! + +If ever Oswald had need of a better guidance than his own, he had need +now. And he was conscious of it. He had many failings, as we all have; +and his pride often stood in his way; but he had one great and good +gift--a conscience that was ever prompting him on the upward way. + +"No, I will not hesitate," he said to himself. "The necessity for +Allister's going remains the same, and he shall go. I must overget +this other loss as I best can, though it may be years first, but I'll +not set my own interest against Allister's life." + +And so Frank Allister and his sister received no countermand, and they +proceeded to Mr. Oswald Cray's that evening, to talk over +arrangements, as it had been decided they should; and they never knew +the sacrifice that had been made for them, or had the least suspicion +that Mr. Oswald Cray had yielded up the appointment. + +When Miss Davenal and Sara arrived, Mrs. Benn received them. That +errant husband of hers and valued servant of the firm, was out again. +This was _not_ Mrs. Benn's cleaning-day; but any little extra duty, +though it was but the receiving a visitor at unusual hours, put her +out excessively; and it was not usual for a levee of ladies to attend +the house in an evening. She appeared at the door with the ordinary +crusty face and a candle in her hand. + +"Is Mr. Oswald Cray at home?" was Neal's demand. + +"Yes, he is," returned Mrs. Benn, speaking as if the question injured +her very much indeed. + +Neal stepped back to the fly, and opened the door for the ladies to +alight. Mrs. Benn stared at the proceedings with all her eyes. + +"Well, if this don't bang everything!" she ejaculated, partly to +herself, partly to the street. "If he was agoing to have a party +tonight, he might have told me, I think. And that there Benn to go +out, and never light the hall-lamp first! It cracks my arms to do it: +a nasty, high, awk'ard thing! Will he be for ordering tea for 'em, I +wonder I when there ain't nothing but a hot loaf in the house, and one +pat o' but--" + +"Show me to Mr. Oswald Cray's private rooms," came the interrupting +voice of Miss Davenal, as she entered. + +"This way," returned sulky Mrs. Benn; "there's one of them there +already." + +The "one of 'em" must have applied to the assumed evening party, for +in the sitting-room sat Jane Allister. Her bonnet was off, her shawl +was unpinned; her fair face was serene and contented, as though she +were in her own home. Miss Davenal bowed stiffly in her surprise, and +the rebellious jealousy rose up in Sara's heart. + +"Is Mr. Oswald Cray not here?" asked Miss Davenal, halting on the +threshold. + +Jane Allister came forward with her good and candid face, and Miss +Davenal's reserved tone relaxed. "Mr. Oswald Cray is downstairs with +my brother and another gentleman. They are settling some business +together; I don't think they will be long." + +Miss Davenal did not hear, but Sara repeated the words to her. They +sat down; and Miss Allister, finding the elder lady was deaf, took her +seat by Sara. + +"I came here tonight to settle particulars about our Spanish journey," +explained Jane Allister, as if in apology for being found there. "I am +going to live in Spain." + +Sara heard it as one in a dream. Oswald Cray was going to Spain for a +lengthened residence: he had told her so when she was in that room a +fortnight ago. If Jane Allister was going with him, why then, it must +be that they were going to be married immediately. + +Her face flushed, her brow grew moist. In a sort of desperation, in +her eager wish to know the worst at once, she turned to Jane Allister. + +"Are you going with Mr. Oswald Cray?" + +"I am going with my brother." + +"With--your--brother! And _not_ with Mr. Oswald Cray?" + +"No, surely not. How could I go with Mr. Oswald Cray? It would not be +proper," she simply added. + +"I--I thought--I meant as his wife," said poor Sara, all confused in +her heart sickness. "I beg your pardon." + +"As his wife!--Mr. Oswald Cray's! Nay, but that is an unlikely thing +to fancy. I am not suitable to Mr. Oswald Cray. Do you know him? + +"O yes." + +"Then you might have been sure he'd not cast his thoughts to a plain +body like me. Why should he? I am not his equal in position. He has +been a brother to Frank, and I reverence him beyond any one I know as +a good and true friend. That's all." + +Why did her heart give a great bound of hope at the words, when she +knew--when she _knew_ that he was lost to her? Oswald Cray came +bounding up the stairs, but a mist had gathered before Sara's eyes, +and she saw nothing clearly. + +"Frank is waiting for you, Jane. He will not come upstairs again." + +"Does he know about everything?" + +"Everything, I think. We have discussed it all, and he will tell you. +But he is coming again in the morning." + +Oswald had spoken as he shook hands with Miss Davenal. Another moment +and they were alone together: the young Scotch lady had left the room. + +"Mr. Oswald Cray, you must tell me all you know of this unhappy +business, from beginning to end," said Miss Davenal. "I have come to +you for the information, and I beg you to conceal nothing. Is Mark +Cray in danger?" + +Oswald scarcely knew in what sense to take the word. He hesitated as +he looked at Miss Davenal. + +"How has it all come about? Let me hear the whole of it; the best and +the worst. His wife professes to know nothing, and it was of no use my +asking her. The water has got into the mine." + +"It is said to be overflowing it; but particulars are not ascertained +yet," replied Oswald, as he proceeded to speak of what he knew. + +It was not much, for he was nearly as much in the dark as they were. +Miss Davenal listened with compressed lips. + +At the conclusion of the interview, Oswald took Miss Davenal out to +the fly upon his arm, placed her in it, and turned to Sara. + +"The last time I saw you I had a journey in my head," he said in a low +tone; "I told you I was going to Spain." + +"Yes." + +"I am not going now. I have given up the idea. We shall send out a +gentleman instead; my friend, Frank Allister. Goodnight; goodnight, +Miss Davenal." + +Severely upright in the carriage sat Miss Davenal, her countenance one +picture of condemnation for the absent Mark. Only once did she open +her lips to Sara opposite to her, and that was as the carriage turned +out of the glare and gas of the more populous streets to the quiet one +which contained their home. + +"What would your brother Edward say to this, were he at home?" + +What would he say to something else? As the carriage drew up to the +door, a female figure was slowly pacing before it, as if in waiting. +And Sara shrank into the remotest corner of the carriage with a shiver +of dread, for she recognised her for the stranger. Catherine +Wentworth. + + + + +CHAPTER L. +HARD USAGE FOR DICK. + + +Do you remember the severe weather of the Christmas of 1860? How for +once we had an old-fashioned Christmas day, when the icicles hung +bright and frozen from the trees and the ponds were alive with +skaters, after the manner of the Christmases we read of, of the days +gone by. It was indeed a bitter winter, that at the close of 1860, and +an unusual number of the poor and friendless, the sick and ailing, +passed from its biting sharpness to a better world. + +In the mind of one it almost seemed as though he had held some +mysterious prevision of it; and that was Oswald Cray. When +deliberating, the previous autumn, whether he should go to Spain +himself, times and again had the thought recurred to him--what if we +have a sharp winter?--how will Allister weather it? And now that the +sharp winter, more terribly sharp than even Oswald dreamt of, had +indeed come, he was thankful to have sacrificed his own self-interest. +In that more southern climate Allister would no feel the cold of this; +and it almost seemed as if the thought alone brought to Oswald his +reward. + +"Isn't it stunning, Aunt Bett?" + +You will probably recognise the words as likely to emanate from +nobody's lips but Mr. Dick Davenal's. Mr. Dick had arrived for the +holidays; rather against the inclination as well as the judgment of +Miss Bettina, but she did not see her way in courtesy to exclude him. +Leopold had been in town with her since October, she and Sara nursing +him; so it would have been unkind to keep Dick at school alone for the +holidays. Miss Bettina said London was a bad place for Dick; he would +be getting into all sorts of mischief: perhaps get run over, perhaps +get lost; it was uncertain what: but Sara, in her love for the boy, +promised to keep him in order and out of harm. A rash undertaking. + +What of the Great Wheal Bang? The Great Wheal Bang was gone for ever +It had passed out ignobly, never probably to be heard of as a mine +again, except in name at certain law courts, to which some of its +angry shareholders persisted in bringing it. Mr. Barker was abroad, +and did not come home to face the storm; it appeared there was no law +to force him home, the matters of the Wheal Bang just escaped that; +and he carried on a free-and-easy correspondence with some of the +exasperated shareholders, who told him to his face in their answers +that he deserved hanging. + +And Mark Cray? Mark Cray was nowhere. The defunct company did their +best to find him, but, try as they would, they could not discover his +hiding-place. They assumed he was out of the country, most probably +with Barker, and perhaps their home search was, through that very +assumption, less minute than it might have been. A run from danger is +always more formidable than a faced one; and if Mark Cray had only +faced those shareholders he would no doubt have found their bite less +hurtful than their bark. That they were loud and threatening and +angry, was true; but Mark would have done well to meet the worst, and +get it over. The luxurious house in Grosvenor Place had been long ago +abandoned by Mark and his wife; and so temporarily had it been lived +in, so fleeting had been the enjoyment of the carriages, the servants, +the society, and all the rest of the accessories, that altogether that +time seemed only like a dream. + +"Isn't it stunning, Aunt Bett?" + +Dick was standing at the dining-room window, his sparkling eyes +devouring the ice in the streets, the tempting slides in the gutters. +A young gentleman who was coming to the house with a small tray of +meat upon his back had just gone down one beautifully, and Dick longed +to be behind him. Leo stepped to the window to look, and thought he +should like it too; but Leo was not in strong health, as Dick was. + +"Isn't it what?" asked Aunt Bett, looking up quickly. "Raining?" + +"Stunning," roared Dick. + +"I wish you would learn to speak like a gentleman, Richard, and not +use those expressions. If they do for school, they don't do for home." + +"I have been oiling my skates this morning," continued Dick. "They are +rather short, but they'll do." + +"Oiling what?" + +"My skates." + +"What cakes?" + +"Sk--a--tes, Aunt Bett. Everything will bear today." + +"Nothing bears in London," said Miss Bettina. "You must not try it, +Richard. A great many boys are drowned every winter in the +Serpentine." + +"What muffs they must be!" returned Dick; "Aunt Bett, the ponds would +bear you if you'd put on a pair of skates and try. They'd bear me a +hundred times over." + +"Would they?" said Miss Bettina. She turned to Sara, who was busy at +the table and pointed with her finger to indicate Dick. + +"I will not have him to go into this danger. Do you hear, Sara? _You_ +undertook to keep him out of harm, if he came to us; so see to it. +Perhaps the best plan will be to lock up his skates. I don't want to +have him brought home drowned." + +Dick was resentful. He might have broken into open rebellion but for +fear of being sent back to enjoy his holidays at school. He sat in a +sullen sort of mood, on the edge of a chair, his hands in his pockets +clicking their contents about, and his boots beating time restlessly +on the carpet. + +"How it's all altered!" he exclaimed. + +"How is what altered?" inquired Sara. They were alone then. Miss +Bettina had gone from the room to give Leopold his eleven o'clock dose +of strengthening medicine. + +"Since Uncle Richard's time. Why, he bought me those very skates last +winter, when that frost came in November. That is, he sent word to +school that I might have them. And then we had no more ice at all! and +Uncle Richard kept wishing through the holidays there might be some +for us! _He'd_ have let us skate." + +Sara was silent. Things had indeed altered since then. + +"It's an awful shame of Aunt Bett! The ice stunning thick, and a +fellow can't enjoy it! Drowned! She might get drowned herself perhaps, +but _I_ shouldn't. Uncle Richard would have let us skate in +Hallingham!" added Dick, excessively resentful. "He wanted us to +skate." + +"But I think it was a little different, Richard dear. Those ponds at +Hallingham were not deep; and people do get drowned in the Serpentine. +And there's nobody to go with you." Dick tossed his head. "Perhaps you +think I want somebody! You had better send a nursemaid. Fine holidays +these are!" + +A few minutes more of sitting still and Dick could stand it no longer. +He darted into the passage and snatched his cap. Sara, quick as he, +caught him with the street-door in his hand. + +"Dick, it must not be. You know I have answered for you to Aunt +Bettina." + +"All right, Sara. I'm not going near the Serpentine, or any other deep +water." + +"You promise?" + +"Yes; on my honour. There! Why, I have not got my skates. I'm going up +and down the street-slides; that's all. You can't expect me to sit +twirling my thumbs all day in Aunt Bett's parlour, as Leo does." + +She had no fear then. If Dick once gave his honour, or if put upon his +honour, he could but be a loyal knight. Left to himself, no promise +extracted from him, he would have decamped right off to the +Serpentine, or to anything else mischievous and dangerous; but not +now. + +But Dick "took it out"--the words were his own--in street-slides. All +the most attractive _ruisseaux_ within a few miles of home Mr. Dick +exercised his legs upon. It required a terrible amount of resolution +to keep his promise not to "go near" the forbidden water; and how long +Dick stood in envy, his nose frozen to the park railings as he watched +the streams of people pouring towards the ice, he never knew. He was +not in a good humour; the slides were very ignoble pastime indeed, +only fit for street-boys; and he thought if there was one gentleman +more ill-used than another that day in all Her Majesty's dominions, +that one was himself. + +Mr. Dick stopped out his own time. He knew that he would be expected +home about one o'clock to have something to eat; but as nothing had +been expressly said to him, he took rather a savage pleasure in +letting them expect, punishing his hunger. He saw a man selling hot +potatoes; and he bought three and ate them, skins and all. Dick was +not in the least troubled with proud notions: Leo would have looked +askance at the tempting edible, and passed on the other side; Dick +danced round the man's machine while he feasted, in the face and eyes +of the passers-by. If Miss Davenal had but seen him! + +Altogether, what with the slides, the hot potatoes, and the temper, +Mr. Richard Davenal remained out long after dark. When he began to +think it might be as well to return home, and to feel as if fifteen +wolves were inside him fighting for their dinner, he was in some +obscure and remote region of Chelsea, where the population was more +crowded than aristocratic, and the ice abundant. Happening to cast +his eyes to a clock in a baker's shop he saw that it wanted but +twenty-five minutes to six. + +"My?" ejaculated Dick in his dismay. Miss Davenal's dinner-hour had +been altered from six to five while the boys were with her, and Dick +had certainly meant to be home to time. He had not thought it was so +late as this. Dick's hair stood on end, and the wolves fought +desperately. + +"Suppose old Bett should say I shan't have any dinner?" + +The shop next door to the baker's was a cook's shop--as they are +called: and perhaps Dick's dreadful doubt caused him irresistibly to +linger for a fond moment at the window and gaze at the attractions +inside. Under Dick's very nose was a steaming mound of beef just out +of the pot, some parsnips round it; other joints were there in plenty; +peas-pudding, plum-pudding, sausages, and a whole host of things +irresistible to a boy in Dick's famishing condition. He mechanically +put his hand into his pocket, lest a stray sixpence might by some +miracle be there. In vain. Dick Davenal was one who could not keep +money for an hour, and his having sufficient to buy the potatoes was a +fact notable. + +Hurried as he was, he could not tear himself from the tempting shop. +The shopman, in a white apron, a great carving-knife and fork in his +hand, was cutting thin slices from a cold round of beef and placing +them in the scale on a piece of white paper. The balance went down, +and he rolled the paper round the meat and handed it to the customer +waiting for it, a young woman--or rather lady, for she looked like +one--who wore a black veil over her face. She gave him sixpence and +some halfpence in return, but the man did not seem to like the +sixpence; he held it close to the gas and then showed it to her, and +she put her veil aside and bent her face nearer while she looked at +it. + +If ever Dick Davenal believed he was in a dream he believed so then. +He rubbed his eyes; he rubbed his frozen nose; he stared through the +intervening steam; and he pinched himself to see whether he was awake. +For that face was the face of his cousin, Mrs. Cray. + +Dick could not believe his senses. The shopman apparently decided that +the sixpence was a good one, and put it in his till, and the lady had +left the shop before Dick recovered his bewilderment. He had believed +Mr. and Mrs. Cray were abroad. From a shrewd boy like Dick it had been +impossible to guard the secret that something was wrong; besides, he +had heard of the failure of the Great Wheal Bang, and that its +promoters were away, abroad or somewhere. + +But that was surely Caroline gone out of the shop with a paper of meat +in her hand! Dick's spirit went down to zero. However _he_ might +condescend to the purchase of hot potatoes, and such like stray +escapades, he did not like to see Caroline buy cooked meat and carry +it away with her. Dick knew that something or other must be all wrong, +and he suddenly felt as timid as Leo. + +She crossed the road and went down a by-street, where the lights were +scanty and the houses poor. Dick followed her. He saw how tightly her +veil was drawn over her face; and she walked with her head down: it +might be to keep out the cold, or it might be to avoid observation. + +She turned into a house on the left-hand side whose door stood open; a +shabby-looking house, but sufficiently large. Dick, hardly certain in +his own mind yet, deliberated whether he should follow her and show +himself: and when he at length went to the door nobody was in sight. +He took courage and knocked; and a woman came out of the parlour on +the right. + +"Is Mrs. Cray here?" asked Dick. + +"Mrs. who?" + +"Mrs. Cray. She's just gone in." + +"There's nobody here of that name. Who's Mrs. Cray? You have mistook +the house, young man." Dick had his wits about him, as the saying +runs, and they were sufficiently alert to prevent his insisting on the +point of its being Mrs. Cray. "I'm sure I saw some lady come in," said +he. + +"Mrs. Mark came in a minute ago, for I met her in the passage. First +floor if you want her." + +"Can I go up?" asked Dick. + +"That's as you please," returned the woman, who was crusty enough to +be first cousin to Mrs. Benn. "The other lodgers in the house is +nothing to me, who goes up to 'em or who doesn't." + +She retreated inside the parlour and banged the door. Dick stumbled +upstairs in the dark, the words "first floor" having guided him. Some +light came in from a window on the landing, and he distinctly heard +Caroline's voice in the front room. Dick-fashion, he burst in without +knocking. + +Caroline gave a short scream. She was untying her bonnet, and the +paper of meat, slowly unfolding itself, lay on the table. It was a +plain sitting-room carpeted with drugget, a large sofa covered with +dark blue stuff seeming to take up one side of it. A white cloth was +spread on part of the table, with some tea-cups and saucers, a loaf of +bread, and a piece of butter. + +"Caroline, I was sure it was you!" The first moment of surprise over, +Caroline threw herself on a chair and burst into tears. Dick sat down +opposite to her and stared round the room, staring off his +bewilderment. Poor Dick was not possessed of any superfluous +sentiment, and the sobs and emotion only made him feel awkward. The +sight of a home face was too much for Mrs. Cray. + +"Is Mark here?" + +Dick asked presently. + +"No." Dick glanced round again, but he could see no door except the +one he had entered at. + +"I'm sure I heard you talking to somebody, Caroline. It made me know +which was the room." + +"I was talking to myself. The words I said were, 'I hope Mark will not +be long,' and I suppose I spoke them aloud." + +A few final sobs, and the emotion passed. Dick was timid, almost +nervous, and he never remembered to have been so in his life. A +thought crossed the boy's mind of what his uncle Richard would say, +could he see this curious state of things. + +"Do you live here, Caroline!" + +"Yes. We went away in the country for a little time at first; but it +was so out of the way of hearing anything, so dull, so wretched, that +we came back again. Mark thought it would be better to come pretty +near to the old neighbourhood; that there was less chance of our being +looked for there than elsewhere." + +"You don't have all the house." + +"All the house!" echoed Caroline. "We only have this room and the use +of the kitchen, which I hardly ever go down to. That sofa is a bed," +she added, pointing to it. "Mark draws it out at night." + +Dick felt more at sea than ever. "Has Mark got no money?" + +Caroline shook her head. "There's a little left; not much. We did not +save a thing from Grosvenor Place. People came in and took possession +while Mark was away, and I got frightened and left it. Afterwards, +when my clothes were asked for, they sent me a boxful of the poorest I +had, and said those were all. I don't know whether it was that they +kept the best, or that the maid-servants helped themselves to them. +Dick!" she passionately added, "I'd rather die than have to bear all +this." + +"Do you have to go out and buy the meat?" questioned Dick, unable to +get the practical part he had seen out a his head. + +"There's a boy that waits on the lodgers, the landlady's son, and he +goes on errands sometimes. Mark thought we should be safer in a house +like this, where there are different lodgers, and one does not +interfere with the concerns of the others; that we should be less +likely to attract notice. In truth we were afraid to venture on a +better place where persons might recognise us." + +"Afraid of what?" questioned Dick. + +"I'm sure I hardly know," she answered. "Of his being arrested, I +suppose." + +"I say, does Sara know you are here?" + +Caroline shook her head. "I have written her a note twice, saying we +are safe; but Mark would not let me give the address. Aunt Bettina has +shaken us off, there's no doubt; she'll never forgive Mark." + +"Forgive him for what!" + +"Oh, altogether," returned Caroline with a gesture of impatience. +"There was the leaving Hallingham, and Sara's money, and other +things." + +"Where is Mark?" continued Dick. + +"He won't be long. He strolls out a little after dark, but he does not +care to venture abroad by daylight. And so, you are up for the +holidays, I suppose?" + +Dick nodded. "Aunt Bett wouldn't have us at midsummer. But Leo broke +his arm, and he wasn't strong, and she sent for him; and then she said +I might come up for Christmas, and we could both go back to school +together. I say, wasn't it unkind of her not to have us in the summer? +She said her house was small. Summer holidays are jollier than winter +ones, especially when they don't let you go on the ice." + +Did a remembrance cross Caroline of somebody else who would not have +them in the summer?--whose house was not small? Probably not. Caroline +had room only for her own griefs. Since the falling of the blow she +had existed in a state of bewilderment. The change was so great, the +order of things so completely altered, that at times she believed she +must be in a prolonged dream, and should shortly wake up to reality. +As one who has suddenly put ashore in a foreign country, where the +land, the customs, the people, and the tongue, are all strange to him, +and he can only accept them passively, yielding himself perforce to +the necessity of circumstances, so it was with Caroline Cray. Believe +me, I am telling you no untrue story. + +"How you cough?" exclaimed Dick, as she was interrupted by a heavy fit +of coughing, not for the first time. + +"I caught a bad cold. It was very bad for a day or two, and I lay in +bed. O Dick! I wonder if I shall ever have a bedroom again!" + +"Couldn't you have a bedroom as well as this room?" sensibly answered +Dick. + +"There was only this room to let when we came here, and we thought it +would do. It's tolerably good-looking you see, and we are more to +ourselves. Every week, too, we are hoping to leave it." + +"Where to go to?" + +"I don't know. Mark says something will be sure to turn up." + +"I say, do they know about this in Barbadoes?" + +"Not from us. I daresay Aunt Bettina has taken care to tell them. Is +she as deaf as ever, Dick?" + +"She's deafer. And she's getting a regular old woman. What do you +think? she'd not let me go out skating this morning, for fear----" + +A gentleman entered, and cut Dick's revelations short. The boy looked +at him in puzzled bewilderment, for he thought he knew him, and yet +did not. It was a full minute before Dick recognised him for Mark +Cray. + +Formerly Mark had whiskers and no moustache; now he had a moustache +and no whiskers, and his beard was growing, and his face looked +longer. He had on blue spectacles too. Altogether, Dick was hardly +certain yet. + +Mark did not seem glad to see him. In manner he rather appeared to +resent the accident which had discovered them to Dick, than to feel +pleasure at it. Caroline put the slices of beef upon a dish, made the +tea, and asked Dick to partake. + +But Dick declined. And nobody, perhaps, would have given careless Dick +credit for the true motive, or for the real self-denial that it was to +a hungry boy. He had somehow drawn a conclusion that Mr. and Mrs. Cray +had not too much meat for themselves, and he would not lessen it. + +"I can't stay now," he said rising, "I shall have Aunt Bett at me as +it is. Goodnight, Mr. Cray; goodnight, Caroline." + +Mr. Cray followed him down the stairs. "You must be very cautious not +to say that you found us here," he said. "Can we depend upon you?" + +"As if you couldn't!" returned Dick. "I know! A fellow of ours at +school has got a big brother, and he has to be in hiding nine months +at least out of every year. I'll tell nobody but Sara." He vaulted +off, or perhaps Mark Cray's injunction might have been extended to +Sara in particular. When he reached home, Miss Bettina, who had +believed nothing less but that he was drowned, and had sent Neal to a +circuit of police-stations, met him in the corridor, followed by Sara +and Leo. + +"You ungrateful boy! Where have you been?" + +"Don't, Aunt Bettina! No need to seize hold of me in that way. I have +only been sliding. I haven't been to the water." + +"You shall go back to school tomorrow," said Miss Bettina, as she +turned into the dining-room. + +Dick caught his cousin by the arm. "You be off after Aunt Bett, Leo; I +want to speak to Sara. I say," he continued in a whisper, as Leo +obeyed him, "I have seen Caroline and Mark Cray!" + +"Nonsense, Dick! Why did you stay out so and frighten us?" + +"I have. I should have been in earlier but for that. Frightened? How +stupid you must all be! As if I couldn't take care of myself. I saw +Carine in a beef and pudding shop, buying cold meat, and I watched +where she went to, and I've been there for half an hour, and I saw +Mark. He has shaved off his whiskers, and wears blue----" + +"Hush!" breathed Sara, as Dorcas came up the stairs. "You must tell me +later." + + + + +CHAPTER LI. +WEARY DAYS. + + +The cold, bitter, biting winter passed away, and when the lovely +spring came round again little trace was left of its effects, save in +the remembrance of those in whose homes sickness, or privation, or +death, had been busy. + +_Two_ of those visitations had been rife in the poor house of Caroline +Cray: sickness and privation. Perhaps you noticed Caroline's reply to +Dick's question of whether Mark had no money: there was a little left, +she said, not much. Left from what? Dick did not ask. + +If ever an unfortunate company had come to grief more completely than +other unfortunate companies, it was surely that noted one, the Great +Wheal Bang. Sympathising friends--Barker's and Mark's--were wont to +assure those gentlemen that they had "managed wretchedly:" and if we +may dare to assume that the reproach was levelled at the fact of +having secured nothing for themselves, it was a right one. On the day +that Mark Cray went up to the offices for the last time he had but a +trifling sum of money about him: Caroline had even less in her own +purse; and that was all. Barker's word of precaution had secured the +diamond ring and studs, and these were converted into money, Mark and +Barker equally dividing the spoil. Barker, with his share, took a +little tour abroad while the cloud blew over; Mark, as you have seen, +went into hiding, and lived upon his part as long as it held out. + +Yes, it was an unhappy fact, very debasing indeed after all the glory +of Grosvenor Place, lowering as you may feel it to be to this history, +Mr. Mark Cray hid himself by day, and slipped out to take the air at +dusk in a moustache and blue spectacles. Mark Cray could but be a +coward in the hour of trial; he ran from the danger instead of +facing it. Had Mark but looked the angry shareholders and the trouble +in the face, he need not have been so very fearful; but to look a +difficulty in the face was not in the nature of Mark Cray. He scarcely +understood what he was afraid of; he did not know what they could do +to him--whether imprison him, or make him a bankrupt, or what; and +Mark would rather have jumped into the sea than ascertain. He was +exactly like a child who runs away screaming from a dark closet, and +dare not look to see whether cause for terror is there. Some of us, my +friends, have been sadly frightened at shadows. + +When this state of affairs was to end, and what was to get Mark out of +his difficulty, he did not at present see. As long as the money lasted +he was not unduly anxious. He had great faith in something "turning +up," he had unlimited faith in Barker; and Barker's letters were +pretty frequent, and in the highest degree cheering. Barker happened +to have a cousin, about the nineteenth remove, settled at Honfleur, in +Normandie, and Barker had steered for the same port, and seemed to be +living at ease there. Towards the close of the winter he wrote word to +Mark that he had something good in contemplation, connected with +Paris, and if it came to anything Mark should share in it. + +But when Mark's money was gone things changed. He grew restless and +gloomy. He could not starve, he could not go to the workhouse: he must +do something. Miss Bettina Davenal would not help them: she said she +could not--perhaps with justice. Leopold Davenal had been an expense +to her, and was still; he went back to school after the Christmas +holidays with Dick, but he was not strong yet, and sundry expensive +extras were provided for him out of her pocket. That was not much: but +a heavier expense had fallen upon her: for she had repaid Mr. Wheatley +the two hundred pounds borrowed by Sara. Sara had disclosed to her +aunt the fact of borrowing it, and in her pride Miss Bettina had made +a sacrifice and repaid the sum. She had none left to bestow on Mark; +there was clearly no help to be had from her. + +And Caroline? You can take a look at her as she sat in the sun, which +was shining into the room this bright day in early April. Perhaps you +remember a remark Dr. Davenal once made--that Caroline was not one, as +he believed, to bear well the adversities of life. Dr. Davenal was +quite right: neither physically nor mentally did they agree with poor +Caroline. + +I don't know whether anybody gets ill at once under a great shock. +Caroline had not. When it fell upon her she was too stunned, too +entirely surprised, to be anything but bewildered. It may be +questioned if a change so sudden--from seemingly assured prosperity to +hiding and disgrace and poverty--has ever fallen. You may feel +inclined to question it in this instance; nevertheless, I repeat that +I am telling you the simple truth. The reaction had come now, and +Caroline Cray gave way sadly. Her cough, that Dick remarked upon, had +got well; but she would lie back in her chair all day, and it seemed +next to impossible to get her out of it. + +But if the body was at rest the mind was only the more active. +Caroline's hours, in point of fact, were pretty equally divided +between outward complaining and inward lamentation. Such lamentation +is nearly always rebellious, and so was hers. The blow had been so +complete; the change was so very great! All that pomp and vanity, all +the luxuries, the carelessness, the pleasure attendant on that one +past sunshiny wave in life's current, to have given place to this! +Perhaps the worst mortification, looking back, was that the play now +seemed to have been so _unreal_; as if they had had no right to +indulge in it, were such fools to have embarked in it, worse than +fools to have believed in it. Mortified, fretful, miserable, Caroline +Cray seemed to live but in repining and repentance. Mark was different +He neither repined nor repented; he was always restless, always +expecting something to turn up; and he would stalk up and down the +room, giving tongue to all sorts of wild visions of what he would do +were he but clear of the world and the Great Wheal Bang. + +As he was doing now. While Caroline sat listless and inert in her +chair, Mark was indulging a dream of the future, sanguine as a child. +He had lately taken to consult the newspapers, and one tempting +advertisement in particular had attracted him. Mark Cray was getting +that experience which comes inevitably in a life of vicissitude; he +had yet to learn how many of these advertisements are but traps for +the unwary, how next to impossible to be the one successful applicant, +if they are genuine. But ever and anon Mark's dream was brought +unpleasantly to a break, as the recollection intruded itself that he +was not a free man. + +"You see, Carine, if I were but clear of that resentful company, there +are a hundred good things to be picked up. I'm sure there's a dozen at +least in the paper every day. That's a splendid thing, I know, that +one advertisement of this morning; any fellow securing that----" + +"Where's the use of talking of it?" interrupted Carine. "It all comes +to nothing. You know you are not clear of the company." + +She spoke in a fretful, peevish tone. Just at first, Mark's sanguine +visions of rising again more gloriously than ever, like a phoenix from +its ashes, had somewhat infected her, but she was learning what they +were worth: as she had just said, "it all came to nothing." Utterly +weary was her spirit. Hope deferred making the heart sick; but hope +destroyed--and it had come to that with Caroline Cray--maketh it die. + +Physical privation tells terribly on the mind as well as the body, and +it was telling upon her. They were next door to starving. What made it +worse for Caroline was, that hers was a constitution _requiring_ the +best of nourishment. The Davenals were a healthy family, but there had +been a taint in her mother's blood. These physical privations would +alone have made Caroline fretful: and she could not help it. + +"I shall be clear of it soon," said Mark. + +"But how?" + +Even sanguine Mark could not detail the precise means by which the +emancipation was to be accomplished. "Oh, somehow," said he, in his +careless way. "The company must wind itself up." + +"Why can't you apply to Oswald?" + +He shook his head very decisively. "I can't face _him_. And if I did, +he'd not assist me. He has lost too much, and is sure to bear malice." + +"Are we to go on like this for ever?" + +"I hope we shan't go on so for a month. I wish you'd not talk so, +Caroline." + +"How am I to talk? You have been saying the same all along?" + +"Well it's of no good your looking on the dark side of things. You are +always doing it now." Caroline was silent for a few moments, when she +suddenly lifted up her hands, and her voice broke into a passionate +wail. + +"Oh, if that money had been but settled on me, as Uncle Richard +wished! This must be a judgment upon us for defying his last +commands." + +"Rubbish!" said Mark. + +"Are we to go out in the street and beg?" she plaintively asked. + +"Are you going to be a child? One must get a rub or two through life; +Caroline. Barker has been down upon his beam-ends five or six times, +just as much as we are, but it has always come right again." + +She relapsed into a fit of weeping; half her hours, abed and up, were +so spent. Mark had ceased either to soothe or reproach; he had tried +both, but ineffectually; and now was fain to let her weep simply +because he was helpless to prevent it. Mark Cray could not be unkind; +he was not that; but he was hardly the right sort of husband for +adversity. Shallow-minded, shallow-hearted, possessed of no depth of +feeling, there seemed something wanting in him now. He did his best to +cheer his wife; but the result was not satisfactory. + +The fits of weeping would sometimes go on to hysterics; sometimes +stopped just short of it. As this one stopped. Caroline suddenly +roused herself and looked round wearily at the mantelpiece, as if +there were a timepiece there, perhaps in momentary forgetfulness. +Grosvenor Place had been rich in such; elegant bijoux, worth no end of +money. + +"I wish Sara would come!" + +"Sara?" repeated Mark, halting in his monotonous promenade. + +"I wrote to her to come." + +She spoke the words half defiantly. Sara, in consequence of the +discovery of Mr. Dick Davenal, had come to see them once; but she was +not encouraged to repeat the visit. Mark especially was against it. +"If we have them coming here, we may get dropped upon," he had said to +his wife; "it would never do." But poor Caroline, wearied out with the +wretched loneliness that seemed to continue month after month, and to +have no end, had at length written to her cousin. + +"Why did you not tell me, Caroline?" + +"You might have forbidden me." + +"It's just what I should have done. We don't want her here. What good +will she do?" + +"What good will anything in the world do? I wish I was out of it!" + +Mark Cray began to ask himself the question whether the expected visit +could be stopped now. He had an intense dislike to meet Sara Davenal; +we all shrink from meeting those whom we have injured directly or +indirectly. But the question was set at rest by Sara's entrance, and +Mark, after a short greeting, disappeared. + +All Caroline did for the first quarter of an hour was to sob +hysterically. Sara, in slighter mourning now, unfastened the white +crape strings of her straw bonnet, and sat over her in dismay, her +sweet face full of compassion for the change she saw. + +"I want to know how it is all to end," were the first distinct words +Caroline uttered. "Am I to stop here till I die?" + +A question difficult for Sara to answer. "Is Mark doing nothing?" she +asked. + +"He is doing nothing. He can't do anything while that business of the +Wheal Bang hangs over him. If that were settled, there are fifty +things he might get into. And if it can't be settled, we may both of +us as well die at once as be famished to death. For that's what it +would come to. Those poor creatures that shut themselves up with the +fumes of charcoal are not so much to blame, after all." + +"Caroline!" + +"Well, I mean it," returned Caroline, a sullen tone beginning to +mingle with her sobs. "It is all very well for you to exclaim +'Caroline!' as if I were mad; but you don't know what sorrow is. +Nobody does until poverty comes." + +Sara thought that there were worse sorrows to be borne in the world +than poverty. And she was right; bad as poverty, to those unaccustomed +to it, undoubtedly is. "What can I do for you?" she gently asked. + +"Here we are, buried alive, and nobody comes near us! Sara, if you +only knew how I yearn for a home face!--how I lie and cry for it!" + +"Mark--and you also--said I must not come, lest it might lead to +discovery." + +"Neither must you, I suppose. At least, not often. But sometimes I +think it would be well if discovery happened. There'd be an end to +this uncertainty at any rate. What is Mark to do if the thing can't +get settled?" + +She asked the question in strange earnestness, and Sara was struck +with the yearning beauty of the lifted face, of the wasting form. The +violet eyes were larger than of yore, the cheeks were of a delicate +crimson, and the hands were long and white and thin. + +"But can it not get settled?" returned Sara. + +"We have nothing to eat, you know. That is, there's bread, and +suchlike; but I can't eat it. Mark will dine on bread and cheese, or +a thick slice of bread and butter; and he really does not seem to +mind; but I can't. O Sara! if I could but have a good dinner!" + +Sara caught up her breath. What comfort could she give? + +"Sometimes, when I am sick with hunger I lie and imagine the dinners +we used to sit down to in Grosvenor Place. I _imagine_ it, you know; +that they are before me now, and I am eating them. Turkey and bread +sauce, or salmon and lobster sauce--it's nearly always substantial +things I think of, I suppose because of my hunger--and I quite seem to +taste them, to eat through a whole plateful Sara, it is true." + +Sara Davenal had heard the doctor speak of some kinds of hunger as a +disease, and could only suppose this must be one. "I wish--I wish I +could help you," she murmured. + +"You can't, I know. You have it not in your power, and Aunt Bettina +won't; she's implacable. I did not send for you to ask it. But, Sara, +there's Oswald Cray. If you would ask him perhaps he might do +something for Mark." + +The words startled her. "Ask Oswald Cray!" + +"I think if he would listen to any one, it is you. I don't forget +how fond he used to be of you in the days gone by. Indeed, I got to +think--but I was wrong, I suppose, so let it pass. O Sara, you'll ask +him for my sake! Don't abandon us quite. I think he might help Mark +out of this difficulty. Perhaps he might see the company, and get them +to be friendly with Mark; or perhaps he'd pay a few of Mark's pressing +debts. It might not take much money?" + +"But why cannot Mark ask him?" + +"He won't. Mark would rather it came to the charcoal--not that +anything of that sort would ever be in _his_ line--than apply to +Oswald. There was some trouble between them about the money Oswald put +into the mine, and Mark has kept away from him since. That is just why +I have sent for you. Mark will not apply to Oswald; no, not if it were +to save him from prison; and I don't feel well enough to go, and my +bonnet's shabby. O Sara, when a recollection comes over me--and it is +always coming--of the nice clothes I had, and how foolishly they were +abandoned, I feel fit to go mad. Anyway, unless a change takes place, +I shan't want clothes long. Sara, surely you will do for us so +trifling a thing as this!" + +To pursue the interview would be waste of time. When Sara Davenal +quitted her cousin it was with a given promise to see Oswald Cray. +Very much indeed did she shrink from it; as much as she had shrunk +from those interviews with Mr. Alfred King: but she saw no other means +to help them; and in truth she did not anticipate much would come of +this. + +Money seemed to be wanted everywhere. Miss Bettina complained sadly of +shortness; the repaid money to Mr. Wheatley had crippled her: and +Captain Davenal's letters to Sara dwelt on his embarrassments. They +told her privately how "hard up" he was, and in his random meaningless +way said he should have to run away to Australia and dig for gold, +unless some dropped shortly from the clouds. Captain Davenal's wife, +as it turned out, was only an heiress in prospective; but he appeared +excessively fond of her, anxious to supply her with every luxury: and +we all know that a married captain's pay, without other means, does +not accord with luxuries in India. + +_His wife!_ Over and over again Sara asked herself how it was possible +Edward could have married her, how he could speak of her in the fond +manner that he did, if there really existed that impediment. All the +trouble and the care seemed to fall upon herself individually--upon +her own hidden heart. So long as there existed a grain of doubt, she +could not speak of this to Edward; and, besides, the letter might fall +into the hands of his young wife. + +Personally, Sara had not been annoyed by Catherine Wentworth. +Occasionally through the winter and spring she had seen this young +woman hovering outside waiting for Neal; twice she had come boldly to +the house, knocked, and asked for him. Miss Bettina's keen eyes had +seen her once. "Is it one of your nieces, Neal?" she graciously asked; +"pray, invite her in." "Oh no, ma'am, she is no relative of mine," +returned Neal, with pointed emphasis. Sara's breath had quickened at +the colloquy, but it ended there. She was surprised at this immunity +from personal annoyance, and wondered how long it would be hers. + +It was a coincidence rather remarkable that Oswald Cray should be at +the door when Sara returned home from the visit to Caroline. About +once in three months he made a call of politeness on Miss Davenal. +Sara met him turning away: Miss Davenal was out, and he had left his +card. He would have passed her after shaking hands--his visit was not +to her--but Sara detained him, her cheeks in a glow at having to do +it. + +"It is very strange," she exclaimed. "I was but now thinking how I +could best get to see you. Do you mind coming in with me for five +minutes?" + +He returned with her, perhaps all too willingly. A great many of us +are tempted to stray from the strict line of duty marked out in our +own minds. Sara led the way to the drawing-room, and told him where +she had been, and what Caroline said. The declining sun--for the +afternoon was drawing towards its close--fell on Oswald as he sat +listening to her. It was the same noble face that she had so loved to +look upon--calm, still, _good_; but somehow all its youth seemed to +have passed away. The eyes had a look of habitual sadness; some silver +threads mingled with the dark chestnut hair. She simply repeated Mrs. +Cray's words, almost as a child repeats a lesson; throwing no +persuasive tone, no pleading of her own into it, for she felt that she +had no right to do so. + +"Did Mark Cray wish you to ask me this?" he inquired, as she ceased +the tale. + +"Not Mark; only Caroline. By what she said, I fancy Mark Cray +feels--feels ashamed to ask you anything." + +"And he well may," answered Oswald, the old look of pride unpleasingly +crossing his face. "I could have borne almost anything from Mark +better than deliberate deceit. I cannot, no I cannot forgive it." + +Neither spoke for a few moments. Sara had untied her bonnet-strings, +and sat with her face a little bent, the eyes raised straight to him +in their simple trust. He had one glove off; it was a black one; and +he was gently swaying it as his elbow rested on the arm of the chair. + +"I cannot quite understand what it is that Mrs. Cray would ask me. She +cannot seriously expect that I should pay Mark's debts. His personal +debts alone would take, I imagine, a far deeper purse than mine. I am +but making my way upwards, and Mark has taken care to put me back to +an extent I shall not readily recover. Pay Marcus Cray's debts! It is +not within my power, any more than it would be within my will." + +Sara was silent, save for a glance. It said how foolish she herself +had thought the demand. + +"I very much fear that Mark Cray is one of those men who want others +to 'pay their debts' throughout life," he resumed. "There are such. +Were he free tomorrow he would be embarrassed again in a year. To +assist such men is no charity." + +"Do you think anything can be done to clear him of the company?" + +"Not while he keeps aloof. Mark himself must know it to be impossible, +or ought to know it. The only chance for these affairs to be wound up +is for him and Barker to come forward." + +"Yes, I thought so," she answered. "But--Caroline tells me--they are +near upon starving!" + +"More shame to Mark!" exclaimed Oswald. "I cannot _describe_ to you +how this affair has pained me. Mark is my father's son, and his +disgrace seems to be reflected upon me. His hiding himself is the +worst part of it all. While he does so he is only prolonging the +trouble and the ill. Believe me, it would not be a kindness to help +Mark. Let him come forward as a man and a gentleman ought; that would +be the best help to him." + +Sara felt that he was right; but she felt also that Mark would _not_ +come forward; and what was to be the ending? + +"They are living in only one room; it is at--." + +"Don't tell it me?" impulsively interrupted Oswald, something like +anger in his tone. "I would not for the world be made cognisant of +Marcus Cray's hiding-place. People have come to me for it times and +again; and I am thankful to assure them in all truth that I know it +not." + +He rose, as if wishing to put an end to the subject, and held out his +hand to Sara. + +"At least you will forgive me for presuming to trouble you so far," +she murmured. "I could not help it: Caroline besought me very +piteously." + +His dark blue eyes, so earnestly bent on her, gave sufficient answer, +even without the pressure of the hand, the tender tone of the low +words. + +"You should not speak of it in that light. If you knew how great a +pleasure it is to me for you to ask me anything! I had almost said it +is the only one left to me in my matter-of-fact working life. You and +I have none too much of such: it seems to me that we both have to +suffer for the wrong-doing of others." + + + + +CHAPTER LII. +SOMETHING "TURNED UP" AT LAST. + + +You might have taken a picture of the group in Mark Cray's room today, +if only by way of contrast to that of yesterday. The living figures +were the same: Mark, his wife, and Sara Davenal; but the contrast lay +in the expression, in the tone of feeling. Yesterday it had been +nothing but gloom, depression, almost despair; today it was all hope +and hilarity. The cloud had gone from the faces of Mark and his wife, +to give place to almost triumphal gaiety. On Sara's there was a look +of pleasure, mingled with perplexity, as if she would rejoice with +them, but as yet scarcely understood what there was to rejoice at. + +Poor Mark Cray! The very slightest straw of expectancy was sufficient +to send his sanguine spirit into the clouds. All this change had been +wrought by a letter from Barker, which the eleven o'clock post had +brought. Barker, who was another of Mark's stamp, had suddenly +discovered, or thought he had discovered, that an English doctor was +wanted in Honfleur. He wrote over to Mark, strongly recommending him +to come and establish himself, and to lose no time, lest the opening +should be snapped up. "There's a goodish many English here," said the +letter, "and not the ghost of an English doctor. If an English fellow +gets ill he must die, unless he chooses to call in a French surgeon, +and the chances are _he'll_ bleed him to death. If you'll believe me, +they bled a young English lady this week for measles! She seemed ill, +and her friends called in a Monsieur Somebody, with a name as +unpronounceable as that mine of ours, and he looked at her, and asked +a few questions, said he thought she was sickening for some disorder +or other, and therefore he'd bleed her. Well, he did bleed her, and +ordered her some drink, called _tissan_, or some such name--I always +shirked my French at school--which it's my belief is made of nothing +but sugar and water. Bleeding for measles! The English say to me: +'What a boon it would be if we had a countryman established here as +doctor!' So Mark, old fellow, I've thought of you; and my advice to +you is, come and try it until something better turns up. I'm off to +Paris shortly, but I'll stop here and welcome you first, if you decide +to come. I know you hate your profession, and so do I, or I might try +the opening myself; but if you don't mind taking it up as a temporary +thing, I think you may manage to find enough practice to get along +with. Living's cheap over here, and the scenery's lovely, though the +town isn't much. Havre is only twenty minutes' distance by steamer; +it's over the water--the _manche_, as they call it; and Harfleur lies +by its side, nearer to us still. We have got an English church, you +can tell Mrs. Cray, if she's particular upon the point; we had a +splendid sermon last Sunday, preached by a stranger. Altogether, it +seems to me to be worth your thinking of _under present +circumstances_, and when the horizon has cleared a little, you can +leave the place as readily as you come to it." + +And this was the golden bait that had laid tempting hold on Mark. +Perhaps to a man "under his present circumstances," as Mr. Barker put +it, it did look favourable. Estimating things by comparison, it looked +more than well. That one present room he was in, the dinnerless days, +the blue spectacles, and all the rest of the little disagreeables you +have heard hints of, were things to be flown from with the fleetest +wings, if they could be exchanged for the position of a flourishing +doctor in Honfleur. Mark was on his exalted ropes again, and his wife +seemed to have thrown off her sorrow and her ailments. + +The first consideration was money. This desirable place could not be +reached without some. Even sanguine Mark allowed that. Just a little, +to allow of their getting there, and a pound or so to pay for +lodgings, and carry them on until his patients came in. He and his +wife were deep in the difficulties of the matter when Sara interrupted +them. She had come to tell Caroline of her ill-success with Oswald +Cray. + +But Caroline was in no mood to listen to aught that savoured of +non-success, and Sara's news was overwhelmed with the other. Barker's +letter was read to her, and Mark enlarged upon it in his sanguine +strain. + +"I knew something would turn up," said he. "Barker's a right good +fellow not to keep it himself. Those continental towns are charming, +if you can put up with the sameness: of course they get a little +_same_ after a time. Not all of them, though. We stopped three months +in Boulogne once, before my father's death, and were sorry to come +away from it. Only think how this will set Carine up, after all the +late bother." + +"I fear Honfleur is a small place to support a medical man," observed +Sara, who could look at the proposal more dispassionately than the +other two. + +"It's a lovely place," fired Mark. "Barker says so. It's renowned in +history. If the places he mentions are not of note, I'd like to know +what are. History tells us that! Why, it was from Harfleur that the +children of one of the kings set sail and were overtaken by a storm +and drowned, and the poor old father never was seen to smile again. +I'm sure I remember having to learn that in my history. Honfleur a +small place! Not support a doctor! You must be saying it for the +purpose, Sara!" + +"Well, Mark, I don't think it is large; but what I meant was, support +an English doctor. Are there enough English living there to do that?" + +"Of course there are," returned Mark, whose sanguine mood resented +nothing more than a check. "Would Barker say there was an opening if +there wasn't?" + +She could have retorted that Barker had no more judgment than Mark; +but it was utterly useless, and she held her tongue. Besides, she did +hope that Mark might pick up some practice, and any change seemed an +improvement upon the present state of things. + +It seemed that there was only Oswald to apply to in the difficulty, +and Sara was asked to do it. She declined. Upon which Caroline, in a +defiant spirit--for she was angry with her--said she would go to him +herself. + +She kept her resolution. At the dusk of evening, not before, Caroline +Cray took her way to Parliament Street, her step quick, her mood +defiant still; not defiant against anybody in particular, but against +the whole world save herself and Mark. + +But when she came in view of the house she slackened her pace, going +on slowly and cautiously, as one who wishes to reconnoitre the ground +beforehand. What was she afraid of? Of meeting any of the wrathful +shareholders of the Great Wheal Bang? If so, it was surely a singular +coincidence that one of them should at that very moment be at Oswald +Cray's door. + +He was being shown out by a lady in an inverted bonnet, if the term +may be held applicable--brim downwards, crown upwards. Caroline +recognised him at once as a Major Pratt, rather an extensive +shareholder. Some acquaintanceship had sprung up between him and Mark, +and the Major had dined twice in Grosvenor Place. Mrs. Cray shrank +into the shade, and drew her veil tighter over her face. He passed +without seeing her, and Mrs. Benn, after taking a look out up and down +the street, gave the door a bang after him. + +Suffering a few moments to elapse, Caroline went to the door and +knocked at it. Mrs. Benn had just reached her kitchen, and it went +very much against the grain of that amiable lady's temper to have to +go up again. Flinging open the door, she confronted the applicant, +opposition written in every line of her face, in every movement of her +working arms, bared to the elbow. + +"I want to see Mr. Oswald Cray." + +"You want to see Mr. Oswald Cray!" repeated Mrs. Benn, the tight and +disguising veil completing her ire. "Well, that's modest! When folks +come here they ask if they _can_ see him--and that's pretty bold for +young women. What might you want, pray?" + +"I want _him_," angrily returned Caroline. "Is he at home? If so, show +me into his presence." + +Something in the refinement of the voice, in its tone of command, +struck on the ear of Mrs. Benn. But she was at warfare with the world +that evening, and her prejudices were unconquerable. + +"I don't know about that. The other night a lady walked herself here, +as bold as could be, and said _she_ wanted to see Mr. Oswald Cray; and +when I let her go in, it turned out that she had got some smuggled +cambric handkechers to sell, and she kept worriting of him to buy for +five-and-twenty minutes. 'Mrs. Benn,' says he to me afterwards in his +quiet way, 'I don't want them sort of people showed in to me.' But how +be I to know one sort from----Oh, so it _is_ you, is it, Joe Benn? I +wonder you come home at all, I do! You have been two mortal half-hours +gone, and nothing but visitors a-tramping in and out. Perhaps you'll +attend to 'em." + +Caroline turned instinctively to the respectable-looking man who +approached the door. "I wish to see Mr. Oswald Cray. My business is of +importance." + +"Certainly, ma'am. Is Mr. Oswald Cray alone?" he asked of his wife. + +"Yes, he is alone. And I should think he'd like to remain alone, if +only for a moment's peace and quiet. He can't get no rest at his work, +any more than I can at mine." + +She stood before Oswald with her veil thrown back, her face working +with emotion, her hands clasped. The table was between them. Benn had +closed the door after showing her in, and Oswald, who was busy over +some tracings, rose and stared in very astonishment. She gave a +summary of her business in a rapid, breathless manner, as if fearing +there would be no time left to tell it in. Mark had at length an +opening of escape from the present misery, if he could only be helped +to embrace it. A surgeon was wanted at Honfleur, and the place was +offered to him. + +Oswald pressed her to a chair, sat down, and questioned her. + +"Why does not Mark come forward and show himself?" he presently asked. + +"Come forward and show himself?" she repeated. "What, and get put into +prison?" + +"He must come, sooner or later. He cannot remain a proscribed man all +his life. What end has he in view by remaining concealed? What does he +promise himself by it?" + +"I don't know." + +"But Mark ought to know. He must be aware that there's an imperative +necessity for his coming forward; that it is a thing there is no +escaping. What does he wait for?" + +"He says he wants the storm to blow over first." + +"The storm will not blow over. Were Mark to hide himself for ten +years, and then appear, it would only raise itself again. The very +best thing that he can do is to appear and face it." + +"Then he never will--at least, not yet awhile. And, Oswald, I don't +think you are a brother if you can wish him to do it. But I did not +come here to discuss _that_," she added. "I came to ask if you would +lend _me_--me, not Mark--the trifle necessary to take us over the +water. I will pay you back again if I have to save it up by +sixpences." + +She betrayed more restlessness of manner than Oswald had ever +observed. Since her entrance she had been incessantly taking off and +putting on the left-hand glove. He thought her changed. Her face +looked worn, her eyes anxious. + +"It would be doing you no kindness, Mrs. Cray. Believe me, the only +plan open to Mark is to come forward and meet the company. His +stopping away makes things worse. Major Pratt was here just before you +came in, asking if I could give him news of Mark. I am tempted to wish +often that I had no connection with him. _Tell_ him to face this." + +"I will not tell him," she answered, her cheeks crimson, her +violet-blue eyes shining with a purple light. "If you will not advance +me these poor few pounds that I plead to you for there'll be nothing +for us but to lie down and die. I have not"--she paused, struggling +with her emotion--"I have not had a proper meal these three months; I +feel often sick with want. Sometimes I wish I was with Uncle Richard." + +Oswald hesitated, whether to ring at once for refreshment or to wait +until her emotion had spent itself. He compassionated _her_ with his +whole heart. + +"What would ten or twenty pounds be to you?" she resumed. "Ten might +take us there; twenty would seem like a fortune. _Won't_ you give us a +chance of life?" + +"It is not the money I think of; it is not indeed, Mrs. Cray. But Mark +ought not to go to Honfleur while these clouds are hanging over him." + +"_Let_ me have the money," she pleaded; "let me have it. I don't want +you to give it me tonight, only to promise it to me. Uncle Richard +would have done as much for you." + +What was he to do? What would you have done, my reader? Upright, +honourable just though he was, he did not resist those tearful eyes, +those pleading hands, and he promised her the money that would carry +Mark Cray farther and farther away from his creditors. + +"And now what will you take?" he asked, ringing the bell. + +"Nothing. I don't think I am as strong as I was; and in moments of +excitement I feel unable to touch bit or drop. Wine? no, I am not +strong, I say; I am not used to wine now; only half a glass of it, and +I should hardly walk home." He did not intend that she should walk, he +told her; and he induced her to take a very little wine, but she could +not eat. Then he gave her his arm downstairs. + +Mrs. Benn met them in the hall. Caroline hastily drew her veil over +her face, but not before the woman had caught a glimpse of her +features. Oswald let himself out at the door, and shut it after him, +and Mrs. Benn backed against the wall to recover her amazement. + +"Mrs. Cray!--his brother's wife! them that are in hiding! And the last +time she was here it was in a coach and four, as may be said, with her +feathers in her bonnet and her satins on her back! What a world this +is for change--and work! Yes she _have_ just gone out, that there +lady, Joe Benn, and the master with her. And you not up to open the +door!" + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. +A NEW HOME. + + +It was an exquisite scene; one of the very prettiest in Normandie. The +old town, with its aged and irregular buildings rising one over the +other like hanging gardens; the large expanse of water, clear as a +sheet of glass, bright with the early sun, stretching out underneath +as far as the eye could see; the hills on the right, with their +clustering trees and their winding road, leading to the nestling +houses in the village of St. Sauveur; Harfleur opposite, standing as a +background to the plain of crystal, with its old castle (or what looks +like one) conspicuous, and its gentle mounts green and picturesque; +Havre lying next it almost side by side, with its immensity of +buildings and its long harbour;--these were what may be called the +prominent parts of the canvas, but were you looking at it you might +find the minuter points of the filling-in even more interesting. The +whole made a magnificent tableau, which, once seen, must rest upon the +charmed mind for ever. + +The Hôtel du Cheval Blanc, situated at one end of the town, +was perhaps the best spot in all Honfleur for admiring this +panorama--unless, indeed, you mounted the heights above. Standing in +one of the end rooms of this hotel on the second floor, whose windows +commanded two sides of view, the town and the water, was a gentleman +whom you have met before. You could not have mistaken it for anything +but a French room, with its bare floor, its tasty curtains, and its +white-covered chairs. The tables had marble tops, hard and ugly, but +the piano opposite to the fireplace was of tolerable tone. + +It was the best of the two sitting-rooms in the hotel; better than the +one on the first floor underneath, because these windows were low and +cheerful, and those were high and grim. This room and a chamber into +which it opened (whose intervening door could never be got to shut, +and if shut couldn't be got to open) looked right over to Harfleur. +For the matter of that the room opened into two chambers, but the one +was closed up just now, and we have nothing to do with it. Like most +French rooms, it seemed made up of doors and windows. + +The gentleman standing at the window was Mark Cray. Resident at +Honfleur more than a month now, this was the first time he had been +called in to see a patient. A traveller had been taken ill at the +Cheval Blanc in the middle of the night, had asked if there was an +English doctor in the place, and Mark was summoned. + +It was rather a serious case, and Mark had not left him yet. The door +between the rooms was open, but Mark kept as still as a mouse; for the +patient, he hoped, was dropping into a doze. Mark had occupation +enough, looking out on the busy scene. It was high tide, and the +harbour, close on which the hotel was built, was alive with bustle. +Fishing-boats were making ready to go out; fishing-boats were tiding +in, bearing their night's haul. The short pier underneath had quite a +crowd on it for that early hour; women with shrill tongues, men with +gruff ones, who were waiting to tow in a merchant vessel drawing near; +idlers only looking on,--their babel of voices came right up to Mark, +and had he been rather more familiar with the Norman tongue he might +have known what all the gabbling was about. A quiet wedding-party, +three men and three women, were taking a walk on the pier, two and +two, after the performance of the early ceremony; or perhaps it had +been performed the previous day, and this one was the continuance +of the holiday,--one never knows; the gala caps on the women's +heads--such caps as we may see in pictures--flapped out their +extraordinary wings: a sober, middle-aged, well-conducted +wedding-party of humble life. They probably came, Mark thought, from +some few miles inland, where the water and the boats were not everyday +objects, as at Honfleur, for their interest in these seemed intense. +Every minute there was something new, as is sure to be the case with a +full tide at early morning: now, an entanglement of boats at the +entrance of the harbour; now, the snapping of a cord and deafening +noise in consequence; and now a flat barge, heavily laden, went +rounding off to the Seine, to toil up between its green banks as far +as Rouen. + +Suddenly a noise as of the waters being cut through arose, and Mark, +who was watching the toiling barge and wondering what she was laden +with, turned his head to the left. The steamer plying from Havre was +coming in--had almost reached the port. She had made a fine passage +that morning: not twenty-five minutes yet had passed since she steamed +out of Havre. The coming in, and the going out again of these +steamers, twice each way in the summer days, is the great event in +Honfleur life. + +In she came to the harbour, swiftly and steadily, rounded the point +under the hotel windows, and moored herself in her place opposite the +hotel entrance. Mark Cray changed his window now. + +Quitting that at which he had been standing, he quietly opened the one +which faced the town and inner harbour, and leaned out to watch the +disembarking of the steamer's live freight. + +"I wonder how many of them will be coming into the hotel to +breakfast," he murmured. "I wish----" + +What he was about to wish was never known. A voice from the inner room +interrupted him. And it was not by any means a feeble voice, but +rather a loud one. + +"Mr. Cray!" + +Mark hastened in. To his surprise he saw his patient, whom he had left +in hope of sleep, out of bed and dressing himself. Mark, as medical +attendant, made a strong remonstrance. + +"I feel a great deal better," was the answer. "I can't lie any longer. +Is not that the boat come in?" + +"Yes," said Mark. "But----" + +"Well, I told you I must go back by her to Havre, if I possibly could. +Necessity has no choice." + +Mark could only look his amazement. The boat would go out again almost +directly, and the patient stood little chance of having time for +breakfast. "You cannot go by this boat," he said. "There'll be another +later in the day." + +"I can't wait for that. I must be away from Havre by an early train." + +"But I--I don't know that I can pronounce you out of danger," +remonstrated Mark, hardly able yet to realise the fact that a +gentleman, thought to be dying in the night, was dressing himself to +go off by a steamer in the morning. + +"I know these attacks of mine are bad--dangerous, I suppose, while +they last; but once over, I am well, except for weakness. And the long +and the short of it is, I must go to Havre by the return boat." + +Mark Cray saw that further objection would be useless. The chamber-man +(I can't help it if you object to the appellation; the hotel had no +women servants) came in with warm water, and the traveller ordered a +cup of coffee to be ready by the time he got down. Mark went back to +the sitting-room. He would stay and see him on board. + +The steamer's first bell had rung when the traveller came forth. Mark +caught up his hat and gloves. "I hardly know what I am indebted to +you," said the stranger, placing a thin piece of paper in his hand. +"Perhaps that will cover it." + +It was a hundred-franc note. Mark would have given it tack, badly +though he wanted money. It was too much; altogether too much, he +exclaimed. + +"No," said the stranger. "I don't know what I should have done without +you; and you have stayed with me the night. That's being attentive. I +was taken ill once before in the night at an hotel in France, where +there happened to be an English doctor in the town, and they got him +to me. But he was gone again in an hour, and in fact seemed to, resent +having been disturbed at all. I didn't pay _him_ more than I was +obliged." + +"Ah, he had plenty of practice, perhaps," cried Mark, rather too +impulsively. "But indeed this is paying me a great deal too much. I +don't like to take it." + +"Indeed it is not, and I hope you will accept my thanks with it," was +the conclusive answer. + +Mark Cray saw the traveller on board the boat, watched it move off, +turn, and go steaming down the port And then he made the best of his +way home, the hundred-franc note in his pocket seeming to be a very +fairy of good fortune. + +They had come to Honfleur the latter end of April; this was the +beginning of June; and poor Mark had not found a single patient yet. +Mr. Barker had been there to receive them on their arrival. How Barker +contrived to live, or whence his funds came, Mark did not know, but he +always seemed flourishing. There are some men who always do seem +flourishing, whatever may be their ups and downs. Barker was in Paris +now, apparently in high feather, his letters to Mark boasting that he +was getting into "something good." + +Mark ran all the way home; his lodgings were not far, near the ascent +of the Mont Joli. Could scenery have supplied the place of meat and +drink, then Mark Cray and his wife might have lived as epicures, for +nothing could well be more grandly beautiful than the prospect seen +from their windows. But, alas! something besides the eyes requires to +be ministered to in this world of wants. + +It was a small house with a garden before the door, and was tenanted +by a widow lady and her servant. Mark and his wife occupied a small +sitting-room in it and a bedchamber above; opening from the +sitting-room was a little place about four feet square, which served +for kitchen, and was let to them with the rooms. They waited on +themselves; it is rare indeed that attendance is furnished with +lodgings in France. But madame's servant was complaisant, and lighted +their fire and did many other little things. + +Caroline was in the bedroom, dressing, when Mark returned;--dressing +in that listless, spiritless manner which argues badly for the hope +and heart. It was a pity their expectations in regard to Honfleur had +been so inordinately raised, for the disappointment was keen, and +Caroline perhaps had not strength to do battle with it. She had +pictured Honfleur (taking the impression from Barker's letters and +Mark's sanguine assumptions) as a very haven of refuge; a panacea for +their past woes, a place where the English patients, if not quite as +plentiful as blackberries, would at least be sufficient to furnish +them with funds to live in comfort. But it had altogether proved a +fallacy. The English patients held aloof. In fact, there were no +English patients, so far as they could make out. Nobody got ill; or, +if they did get ill, they did not come to Mark Cray to be cured. +Tribulation in the shape of petty embarrassment was coming upon them, +and Caroline began to hate the place. She was weary, sick, sad; half +dead with disappointment and _ennui_. + +Unfortunately, there was becoming a reason to suspect that something +was radically wrong with Caroline. Not that she thought it yet; still +less Mark. Dr. Davenal had surmised that her constitution was unsound. + +During the time of their sojourn at Chelsea, where Mr. Dick Davenal +came so suddenly upon them, and Mark was accustomed to go out to take +the air adorned with blue spectacles and a moustache, Caroline, in +undressing herself one night, found--or fancied that she found--a +small lump in her side, below the ribs. She thought nothing whatever +about it, it was so very small; in fact, it slipped from her memory. +Some time afterwards, however, she accidentally touched her side and +felt the same lump there again. This was of course sufficient to +assure her that it was not fancy, but still she attached no importance +to it, and said nothing. But the lump did not go away; it seemed like +a little kernel that could be moved bout with the finger; and in the +week following their arrival at Honfleur she first spoke of it to +Mark. Mark did not pay much attention to it; that is, he did not think +there was any cause to pay attention to it; it might proceed from +cold, he said, or perhaps she had given herself a knock; he supposed +it would go away again. But the lump did not go away, and Caroline had +been complaining of it lately. + +On this past night--or rather morning--when Mark was at the hotel with +the patient to whom he was called, Caroline had been recreating her +imagination with speculations upon what the lump was, and what it was +likely to come to. Whether this caused her to be more sensitive to the +lump than she had been before, or whether the lump was really +beginning to make itself more troublesome, certain it was that her +fears in regard to it were at length aroused, and she waited +impatiently for the return of her husband. + +"Mark, this lump gets larger and larger. I am certain of it." + +It was her greeting to Mark when he entered and came up to the +chamber. She turned her spiritless eyes upon him, and Mark might have +noted the sad listlessness of the tone, but that it had become +habitual. He made no reply. He was beginning himself to think that the +lump got larger. + +"And it pains me now,--a sort of dull aching. I wonder if it's coming +to anything. Just feel it, Mark." + +Mark Cray drew her light cotton dressing-gown tight across the place, +and passed his fingers gently over and over it. He was not so utter a +tyro in his profession as to be ignorant that the lump might mean +mischief. Caroline, with most rapid quickness of apprehension, noted +and did not like his silence. + +"Mark! what is it? What's going to be the matter with me?" + +"Nothing, I hope," replied Mark, speaking readily enough now. "It will +go away, I daresay. Perhaps you have been fidgeting with it this +morning." + +"No, I have not done that. And if the lump meant to go away, why +should it get larger? It _does_ get larger, Mark. It seems to me that +it has nearly doubled its size in the last week." + +"I think it is a little larger," acknowledged Mark, feeling perhaps +that he could not get out of the confession. "How long has it pained +you?" + +"I can't remember. The pain came on so imperceptibly that I hardly +know when it first began. What _is_ the lump, Mark?" + +"I can't tell." + +"You can't tell?" + +"I can't tell yet. Sometimes lumps appear and go away again, and never +come to anything." + +"And if they do come to anything, what is it that they come to?" + +"Oh, sometimes one thing and sometimes another," answered Mark +lightly. + +"Can't you tell me what the things are?" she rejoined, in a peevishly +anxious tone. + +"Well--boils for one thing; and tumours." + +"And what becomes of these tumours?" she quickly rejoined, catching at +the word. + +"They have to be taken out. + +"Is it very painful?" + +"Law, no. The pain's a mere nothing." + +"And cancers? How do they come?" proceeded Caroline after pause. "With +a little lump at first, like this?" + +"Cancers don't come there. You need not fear that it's a cancer. +Carine, my dear, you must be nervous this morning." + +She passed by the remark, hardly hearing it. "But Mark--you say you +can't tell yet what it is." + +"Neither can I. But I can tell what it is _not._ I'll get you a little +ointment to rub on it, and I make no doubt it will go away." + +Caroline was doing her hair at the moment. She had the brush in one +hand, the hair in the other; and she paused just as she was, looking +fixedly at her husband. + +"Mark, if you don't know what it is, perhaps somebody else would know. +I wish you'd let me show it to a doctor." + +Mark laughed. He really believed she must be getting nervous about it, +and perhaps deemed it would be the best plan to treat it lightly. "A +French doctor Why, Carine, they are not worth a rush." + +"I have heard Uncle Richard say the contrary," she persisted. "That +the French, as surgeons, are clever men." + +"He meant with the knife, I suppose. Well, Caroline, you can let a +Frenchman see the lump if it will afford you any satisfaction. You +don't ask me what has kept me out all these hours!" rejoined Mark, +changing the topic. "I have had a patient at last." + +"Yes, I suppose that. He was very ill, perhaps, and you had to remain +with him." + +She spoke in the wearied, inert tone that seems to betray an entire +absence of interest. When the spirit has been borne down with +long-continued disappointment, this weariness becomes a sort of +disease. It was very prejudicial now, in a physical point of view, to +Caroline Cray. + +Mark took out the note. "See how well he paid me!" he cried, holding +it to her. "I wish such patients would come to the Cheval Blanc every +day!" + +The sight aroused her from her apathy. "A hundred-franc note!" she +exclaimed with dilating eyes. "O Mark! it is quite a godsend. I shall +believe next in Sara Davenal's maxim: that help is sure to turn up in +the time of need." + +In the time of need! It was a time that had certainly come for them. +The surplus of Oswald Cray's twenty pounds, remaining after the +expenses of removal were paid, had come to an end, and neither Mark +nor his wife had seen their way clear to go on for another week. It +was in truth a godsend; more strictly so than Caroline, in her +lightness, deemed. + +But the money, welcome as it was, did not take the paramount place in +her mind today that it might else have done. _That_ was occupied by +the lump. Caroline's fears in regard to it could not be allayed, and +she insisted upon being taken to a doctor for his opinion, without any +delay. Mark made inquiries, and found a Monsieur Le Bleu was +considered to be a clever man. He proposed to ask him to call, but +Caroline preferred to go to him, her reason being a somewhat whimsical +one, as expressed to Mark: "If he has to come to me I shall think I am +really ill." Accordingly they went that same afternoon, and the +interview, what with Mark Cray's French and the doctor's English, was +productive of some temporary difficulty. + +They started after their early dinner. M. Le Bleu lived not very far +from them, but in the heart of the town, and Mark began by calling him +Mr. Blue, _sans cérémonie_. Mark had learned French at school, and +therefore considered himself a French scholar. On the door was a brass +plate--"M. Le Bleu, Médecin;" and a young woman in a red petticoat, +grey stockings, and sabots, came to the door in answer to the ring. + +"Is Mr. Blue at home?" demanded Mark. "Mossier Blue, chez elle?" +continued he, tying to be more explanatory, in answer to the girl's +puzzled stare. + +"O Mark," whispered Caroline, her cheeks flaming at this specimen of +French. "Monsieur Le Bleu, est-il chez lui?" she hastily said, turning +to the servant. + +Monsieur Le Bleu was "chez lui," the girl said to them, and they were +admitted. A little middle-aged gentleman in spectacles with no beard +or whiskers or moustache, or any other hair to speak of, for that on +his head was as closely cut as it could be, short of being shaved, +came forward. He asked what he could have the honour of doing for +them. + +"Speak English, Messeu?" began Mark. "Parle Anglishe?" + +"Yas, sare," was the amiable response, as the doctor handed Caroline a +seat. "I spack the Anglishe, moi." + +"Oh then we shall get on," cried Mark. "Madame here, ma femme, it's +for her. I don't think it's much, but she would come. That's my +name"--handing in his card. + +The Frenchman was a little puzzled by so much English all at once, and +relieved himself by looking at the card. + +"Ah, c'est ça, Meestare Cr--Cr--Craw," pronounced the doctor, arriving +with satisfaction at the name after some stammering. "And Madame what +has she?" + +"Malade," briefly responded Mark. "Elle a une--une--lump--come in +the--the (what's French for side, I wonder?) in the côté. Ici, +Messeu," touching himself; "mais il est très petite encore; no larger +than a--a--petite pois." + +Clearly the gentleman did not understand. Mark had drawn him aside, so +that they were speaking apart from Caroline. + +"A-t'elle d'enfants, Madame?" + +"Oh, oui, oui," responded Mark, at a venture, not catching a syllable +of the question, the Frenchman seemed to speak so rapidly. + +"Et combien? I ask, sare, how many; and the age of them; the age!" +"Three-and-twenty. Vingt-trois." + +"Vingt-trois!" echoed the doctor, pushing up his glasses. "Mais, +n'est pas possible. I say it not possible, sare, that Madame have +twenty-three children." + +"_Children!_" shouted Mark, "I thought you said _age_. She has not any +children; pas d'enfants, Messeu. She found of it before we quitted +England--avant nous partons d'Angleterre." + +Monsieur Le Bleu tried hard to understand. "Where you say it is, sare, +the mal? Est-ce que c'est une blessure?" + +"It's here," said Mark, touching _him_ now. "It came of itself--venait +tout seule, grande at first comme the tête of an épingle, not much +more; à présent larger than a big pea--a petite pois." + +The doctor's ear was strained, and a faint light broke upon it. He had +enjoyed the pleasure of conversing with English patients before; in +fact it was mostly from them that he was enabled to shine in the +language. + +"Ah, je vois. Pardon, sare, it not a blessure, it a--a--clou--a +bouton? I ask, sare, is it a button?" + +"It's a _lump_," returned Mark, staring very much. "A sort of a +kernel, you know. Comprends, Messeu?" he questioned, in no hurry, +perhaps, to make any worse suggestion. + +The doctor gravely nodded; not caring to confess his ignorance. "When +did he arrive, sare?" + +"When did who arrive?" + +"Him--the mal, sare." + +"Oh, the lump. Several weeks back--quelques semaines, Messeu. Pas +beaucoup de trouble avec; de pain! mais trouve nervous this morning, +and--and--thought she'd like a doctor's opinion," concluded Mark, his +French completely breaking down. + +"Bon," said the surgeon, wishing Mark did not talk English quite so +fast. "Madame has not consultayed a docteur donc, encore?" + +"Only me," replied Mark. "I'm a doctor myself--docteur moi-même, +Messeu." + +"Ah, Monsieur est médecin lui-même," cried the doctor, making a +succession of bows in his politeness. "That will facilitate our +understandings, sare. Has Madame the good--the bonne santé de +l'ordinaire?" he continued, coming to a breakdown himself. + +"Santé de l'ordinaire!--I wonder what that is," debated Mark within +himself. "Vin ordinaire means thin claret, I know. I no comprendre, +Messeu," he confessed aloud. "Ma femme eats and drinks everything." + +"Is Madame--je ne trouve pas le mot, moi--is she _saine_, I would +ask?" + +"San?" repeated the puzzled Mark. "Why, you never mean _sane_, surely!" +he exclaimed in astonishment. "She's as sane as you or I. What on +earth put that in your head, Messeu? she doesn't look mad, I hope!" + +"I no say mad," disclaimed Messeu. "I ask if she--ah, voilà le mot, +quel bonheur!--if she healthy?--if she partake of the good +constitution?" + +A recollection flashed across Mark Cray's memory of a doubt he had +once heard drop from Dr. Davenal as to whether Caroline's constitution +was a healthy one. "Elle a porté très bien," was his answer to +Monsieur, plunging into his French again. "This mayn't be anything, +you know, Messeu." + +"I not like these boutons though, sare." + +"Which buttons," demanded Mark. + +"The buttons you do me the honour to consult for. Je ne les aime pas, +soit clou, soit tumeur--n'importe pour l'espèce. In the place you +indicate to me it is like to be a tumeur, and she is obstinate." + +"Who is, Messeu?" asked Mark, in doubt whether the incomprehensible +Frenchman did not allude to his wife's temper. + +"She herself," lucidly explained Messeu. "I have held cases that would +not terminate themselves at all by anyway, no not for the years." + +"Oh, but this is not a case of that sort," said Mark, half +resentfully. "A few simple remedies may disperse it." + +"Yes, I hope," agreed the doctor. "I would demand of Monsieur if he +has tried the sangsues? + +"The what?" cried Mark, who had not the remotest idea what sort of a +thing "sangsues" could be. "No, I have not tried it." + +"J'aime assez la sangsue, moi. She is a useful beast, sare." + +Mark nearly groaned, Whatever had "useful beasts" to do with this lump +of Caroline's? Useful beasts? "Is it a camel you are talking of?" he +asked. + +"A camel!" repeated the doctor, staring at Mark. "Pardon, I no +understand." + +Mark was sure he didn't. "You spoke of useful beasts, Messeu?" + +"Yas, they have moche virtue, the sangsues. They do good to Madame; +they bite her well." + +Mark was never more at sea in his life. Roaming away in search of +camels, his home perceptions were perhaps a little obscured in that +moment. Bite Madame? What on earth was "sonsues?" + +"I speak of the little black beast that long when she full--" pointing +to his finger. "You call them litch--litch--" + +"Leeches!" interrupted Mark, with a laugh. "I could not understand, +moi; Je pensé, Messeu, que vous--vous--speak of wild beasts." + +"Yas," said the doctor complacently, "I thought you understand, sare." + +"Bon pour Madame, vous dit, Messeu, the sonsues?" + +"Je pense que oui. Mais--but I no say trop before the examen of +Madame. I would see the hurt, me. I go to your house, sare, and meet +Madame without her robe. I go tomorrow at four of the clock after +twelve, if that will arrange you." + +"So be it," returned Mark, when he had puzzled out the words "Je dis à +ma femme que--que--it was of no use for her to call here, herself; +you'd want to see her dishabillayed. Je vous merci, Messeu." + +And when they were walking home Mark said to his wife how very glad he +was to find he had kept up his French. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. +A BELL RINGING OUT AT MIDNIGHT. + + +I wonder whether you remember that most charming weather we had in the +October of that same year 1861. The first fortnight of the month was +more lovely than can be imagined of October; it was brilliant and warm +as summer. + +Toiling up the ascent of the Côte de Grace went Mark Cray and his wife +on one of these delightful days. The word toiling would be misapplied +to you, I hope, for the way is gentle, the ascent easy; but it was +toil now to Caroline Cray. The past three or four months had made a +great change in her: health and spirits had alike sunk. As the lump +got larger--we may as well call it by its familiar name--the body got +weaker, and she felt the fatigue of walking now. Mark and the +weather's unusual beauty had tempted her out, and they had taken the +way through the town to the Cête de Grace. + +Winding up the shady road--and the sun was too hot not to make the +shade welcome--they gained the top. Caroline sat down at once on a +bench that faced the sea: Mark stepped forward to the edge, dangerous +enough if unprotected, and looked down. Was any panorama ever more +beautiful? It happened to be full tide, as it was that morning when +you saw him looking at it before--the same view, from the windows of +the Cheval Blanc. But the same view, extended, enlarged, altogether +grander, from the height on which he now stood. + +Mark Cray took a glass from his pocket--it belonged to Monsieur Le +Bleu, with whom they were now passably intimate--one of those small +but effective telescopes rather rare to meet with. Adjusting its +focus, he swept it round the horizon. He turned it to the right, and +saw the women winding up the paths on their way from Honfleur market, +their unbecoming borderless caps of everyday wear quite plain to him. +Opposite was Harfleur, flickering in the light and shade; underneath +him, beyond the cultivated precipice, were the walks by the sea--if +you call it sea--the road winding on afar, the bathing establishment +with its seats, and its linen spread out to dry. Havre itself looked +rather cloudy from local smoke, but its entrance was beautifully +clear, and Mark put up his glass again to gaze at it. Vessels, great +and small, were rounding the point. A large steamer, which he +recognised as the London boat, was turning into it, her steam so full, +seemingly so close, that he might have fancied he heard its hiss. A +fine sailing vessel was being towed out, to commence her long voyage; +she looked like an Indiaman. The steamer plying between Havre and +Trouville had reached its midway passage; a little funnelled boat was +bearing swiftly on in the direction of Fiquefleur bay; an ugly, +black-looking yacht had pointed its nose towards the dangerous bar of +Quillebeuf; one of the everlasting flat barges was moving +imperceptibly up the Seine; smaller boats and more picturesque were +coquetting on the _manche_, and the Honfleur steamer was coming on +quickly, leaving Havre far behind her. Mark extended the glass in the +direction of the extreme left, and studied the vessels in the +distance. Not a breath seemed to fill their sails. The blue and clear +waters of the Seine were not calmer than that sometimes turbulent sea: +river, _manche_, sea, were today still as a lake. A fair scene! none +fairer throughout the department of the Calvados. + +How familiar the scene had grown to Mark Cray he could tell you now. +His days unfortunately were days of idleness, and he, had nothing to +do but look at it from some point or other of the heights. Mark's +fondly-anticipated patients had not come to him: whether the handful +of English stationary at Honfleur preferred Monsieur Le Bleu or one of +his compatriots to attend them, or whether they were so disobliging as +to keep in perfect health, Mark Cray never clearly ascertained. All he +could be sure of was, that _he_ was not summoned. His professional +services had been called into requisition but three times, including +the stranger at the hotel who gave him the large fee. An English +maid-servant had come to him once to have a tooth drawn; she could not +speak French, she said, and did not like to go to a chemist's shop for +it; Mark drew it, borrowing his friend Monsieur Le Bleu's pincers--or +whatever you call the things--and charged her three francs. He said +five at first; but she slightly reproached him, said she could have it +done in a shop fer one and in fact had but three francs with her. So +Mark took the three. The third time he was called in to a gentleman +who said he had lived in Honfleur six years and had never been ill +yet. He had now got an attack of what he called "La grippe," which +Mark interpreted into the gripes, utterly unconscious that la grippe +in French means influenza in English. The patient soon got well, +despite a little wrong treatment at that; and Mark's remuneration was +ten francs. That was all he had earned, this ten francs and the three +for the tooth, besides the present made him at the hotel. + +How were they to get along? How _had_ they got along? They, poor +sufferers, looking to the past, could hardly tell. Barker, who was in +Paris still, full of wild hopes as usual, had sent Mark once a +hundred-franc note in a letter and a promise of more; a little had +come to Caroline from Barbadoes, for she had told of her woes; and so +they existed somehow. Mark Cray was by no means one to sit down tamely +and starve; any hopeless scheme rather than that; but Mark was caged, +as it were, at Honfleur, and did not see how to get away from it, or +where to travel to. Under happier auspices that "lump" might not have +got so large as it was now getting: had that Great Wheal Bang mine +only sent its ore to market instead of getting drowned it might never +have shown itself at all; or, at least, not for years. + +Mark Cray lowered the glass and turned to speak to his wife, who was +seated but three or four yards behind him. Towards her left were those +enclosed and accommodating gardens of entertainment, where you might +order a dinner and eat it _al fresco_, or where you might take your +own basket of provisions and they would bring you drink from the +house, wine, milk, beer, lemonade, or coffee, at choice. Behind her, +looking beyond, rose the little Chapelle de Nôtre-Dame-de-Grâce, on +whose interior walls were recorded accounts of devoted pilgrims who +had toiled on crutches up to the shrine, and whose faith Our Lady had +rewarded by an instantaneous cure, whereupon they went down rejoicing, +leaving their crutches behind them, a memento of the miracle. On the +right was the small building called, surely by courtesy, the +Observatoire, where innumerable wonders might be seen for two sous. +And on the near plateau close around was many a bench similar to the +one occupied by Mrs. Cray; the grass forming a carpet underfoot, the +trees a shade overhead. A pleasant spot to rest in on a summer's day; +a charming tableau to look upon in silence. + +"Won't you come and have a look, Caroline I don't think I ever saw the +atmosphere so clear on a brilliant day." + +She only shook her head by way of answer: wearily, despondently. + +"The boat's coming in," he resumed. "Two minutes more, and she'll pass +us. You'll like to see her go by." + +"I can't Mark. My side is paining me worse then ever. I must not walk +up the hill again." + +It was a very obstinate side, as M. Le Bleu would express it, a very +persistent, provoking lump, and that renowned practitioner--who was +really a skilful man, for all his obscure English--had formed his own +opinion upon it. It baffled him and his remedies persistently. Even +those highly-regarded bêtes, the sangsues, had tried their best to +subdue it--and tried in vain. Evidently the effective remedy was not +sangsues. The lump had had its own way all these months. It had been +growing larger and larger, giving by degrees more and more pain. +Monsieur Le Bleu had once hinted his doubts of a "tumeur fibreuse," +and Mark had politely retorted that he was an idiot to fancy such +things. What the end of it all was to be--of the disease, of the +semi-starvation, of the next to impossibility to go on in Honfleur, and +the equal impossibility to get away from it, of Mark Cray's little +difficulty with England and the shareholders of the old company--would +take a wiser head than either Caroline's or Mark's to tell. + +This day has been noticed because it was a sort of turning-point in +this persistent malady: not a turning for better but for worse. +Whether the walk up the hill injured her--for perhaps she had grown +really unfit for it--or whether the disease itself made a sudden leap +onwards, certain it was that poor Mrs. Cray never went up the Côte de +Grâce again. She walked home with Mark very slowly, and fainted when +she got in. Mark did not like her look, and ran off for Monsieur Le +Bleu. It was only the fatigue, she said to them: but the next morning +she did not rise from her bed. + +Several weeks dragged themselves slowly on, Caroline growing worse and +weaker. An idea arose to her--it may have almost been called a morbid +fancy--that if her uncle Richard were alive and at hand, her cure +would be certain and speedy. From him it was natural perhaps that her +hopes should stray to other English doctors; not young men such as +Mark, but men of note, of experience, of known skill; and a full +persuasion took possession of her mind that she had only to go +to London to be made well. It grew too strong for any sort of +counter-argument or resistance; it became a mania: to remain in +Honfleur was to die; to go to England and the English faculty would be +cure and life. + +Mark would have gratified the wish had it been in his power, but how +was he to find the money? But for Barker, they could not have gone on +at all. He sent a trifle to Mark from time to time, and they managed +to get along with it. Once, when they were at a very low ebb Mark had +written a pitiful account of their state to his brother Oswald, and a +ten-pound note came back again. Ah what a contrast was this to the +prosperity that might have been theirs at Hallingham! + +Winter had come now. December was in; its first days were rapidly +passing; and so intense had grown Caroline's yearning for home that +Monsieur Le Bleu himself said to keep her would be to kill her. "It +would only be the passage-money, Mark," she reiterated ten times in a +day. "I should go straight to Aunt Bettina's. Angry as she was with us +for leaving Hallingham, she'd not refuse to take me in. Mark, Mark! +only the passage-money!" + +And Mark, thus piteously appealed to, began to think he must do +something desperate to get the passage-money. Perhaps he would, if he +had only known what. But while Mark was thinking of it help arrived, +in the shape of a hundred-franc note from Barker. Things were +beginning to look up with him he wrote. Perhaps he meant this as an +earnest of it. + +"Divide it, Mark," she said, with feverish cheeks. "I know how badly +you want it here: but I want it badly too. I want help, I want medical +skill; divide it between us: fifty francs will take me over." + +And so it was done. How willingly Mark would have given her the +whole!--but that was impossible. How willingly he would have gone with +her to take care of her on the voyage!--but that was impossible. Mark +Cray might not show his face in London. He took her as far as he could, +and that was to Havre. On the morning after the arrival of Barker's +letter and its inclosure they were off: and so great an effect had the +knowledge that she was really going wrought on Caroline, that she +seemed to have recovered health and strength in a manner little short +of miraculous. + +She walked down to the Honfleur boat; she would walk; she was quite +well enough to walk, she said. As they turned out of the house the +postman was approaching it, selecting a letter from his bundle. + +"Pour Madame," he said, giving it to Mark. + +It was from Sara: they could see that by the handwriting. Caroline +thrust it into her pocket. There was not time for reading letters +there; the bell of the starting boat had sounded over the town, and +they and the man behind, who was wheeling Caroline's trunk on a +barrow, had much ado to catch it. They read the letter going over. It +was merely a friendly letter of news, the chief item, of which news +was, that they were expecting Captain Davenal and his wife hourly from +India. + +"Then, Caroline, they won't be able to take you in," was Mark Cray's +remark. + +"Oh, yes, yes, it can be managed," was her answer, so feverishly and +eagerly delivered that Mark suspected she feared he might wish to +detain her; and he said no more. + +But now, when they reached Havre, Mark discovered that he and Caroline +between them had made a very stupid mistake as to the departure of the +London boat. He afterwards found that they had inadvertently consulted +the list of departures for November, instead of December. There was no +London steamer departing from Havre that day. + +They stood on what is called the English Quai, Caroline weak, sick, +depressed. A check of this kind thrown upon one in her state of health +is as very despair. Opposite to them was moored a small English +steamer; a board upon her, or which was inscribed "for London," +indicating her destination. "I could go by that," she said, +feverishly; "Mark, I could go by that." + +"I don't think it is a passenger boat," was Mark's reply. + +They advanced to the edge of the quai and looked down. Two or three +men, apparently English, were taking bales of goods on board by means +of a crane. "Is this a passenger boat?" Mark asked them. + +"No sir. She's for goods." + +The answer was unmistakably English. A stout, middle-aged, +respectable-looking man, who was seated across a bar, watching the men +and smoking a pipe, looked up and inquired of Mark why he asked. + +It was the master of the vessel. They got into conversation with him, +and told him their dilemma. He was a kind-hearted man, and he offered +to convey the lady to London if she could put up with the +accommodation. She was quite welcome to go with them, free of expense, +he said, and his wife had come the trip with him this time, so she'd +not, as it were, be alone on board. How eagerly Mrs. Cray seized upon +the offer, rather than go home again to wait a day or two for the +regular boat, I'll leave you to judge. + +She went at once on board, and the vessel got out of harbour in the +course of the afternoon, the master saying they should make London on +the afternoon of the following day. But there's no time to linger over +this part, or to give any details of the voyage; it is enough to say +that the passage, from unavoidable causes, was an unusually slow one, +and they did not reach their destination in the Thames until late in +the evening. It was a memorable day for us that; Saturday the 14th of +December; a day of sadness irreparable for our land. Not quite yet, +however, had the hour of calamity come; and the astounding grief, half +paralysing England with its suddenness, had not fully broken upon it. + +It was getting on for ten o'clock before Mrs. Cray was able to leave +the steamer. To present herself, an unexpected intruder, at Miss +Davenal's at midnight was not to be thought of. All the way over she +had been revolving the news contained in Sara's letter, of which she +had made so light to Mark: should Captain Davenal and his wife have +arrived, she did not think there would be room for her; and the +untoward lateness of the hour increased her difficulty. + +There came a thought flashing into her mind, welcome as a ray of +light. "I wonder if Watton could take me in for the night?" + +Her kind friends, the captain and his wife--and very kind and +hospitable they had been to her--had a cab called, and Mrs. Cray and +her trunk were placed in it, a tide-waiter allowing the disembarkment. +She was then driven to St. Paul's Churchyard. + +Watton came out in a state of wonder. A lady in a cab inquiring for +her! Perhaps it was not lessened when she recognised Mrs. Cray: but +Mrs. Cray looking so awfully ill, so greatly changed! Watton, always +of a demonstrative temper, could not conceal her shock of dismay; and +perhaps the woman's words first imparted to Caroline a suspicion of +what her real state might be. Always with Mark, he could not detect +the ravages in her face as a stranger detected them; and the recent +voyage of course added its evil effects to her looks. + +"Watton, could you take me in for the night?" + +She was too fatigued, too worn and ill to enter upon her demand with +introductory circumlocution. Watton only stared in reply. This, +coupled with Mrs. Cray's appearance, momentarily took her wits away. + +"I could lie on a sofa, or on a blanket put down on the carpet, +anywhere just for tonight. I don't like to go on so late to Aunt +Bettina's; they do not expect me, and will have gone to bed. And you +know what she is, Watton." + +"To be sure I can take you in, Miss Caroline," returned Watton, +recovering herself partially, and warming to the poor sick girl. +"Thirty hours in a steamer! My goodness! And they are horrid things +always. I crossed over to Jersey once in my young days, and I shall +never forget it. Of course you can't go on to Pimlico tonight. Bring +in the trunk, cabman." + +The trunk was placed inside the passage, the man paid and dismissed, +and Watton was closing the street-door, when it was pushed against. +She flung it open with an impatient word, and a gentleman entered. +Watton was taken by surprise. "I beg your pardon, sir, I'm sure. I +thought it was the cabman wanting to stand out for another sixpence." + +He passed her with a smile, glanced at Caroline and the trunk, and was +making his way up the stairs, when she again addressed him. + +"Is there any fresh news, sir?" + +"Yes, and it is not good, Mrs. Watton," he replied, turning to speak. +"Report says that a telegram has been received from Windsor, stating +that there is no hope; that the Prince is rapidly sinking." + +His voice was low, his manner subdued; and he raised his hat with +unconscious reverence while he gave the answer. Watton lost her +breath. + +"It may not be true, sir! it may not be true!" + +"I trust indeed it is not." + +"But, sir, was there not hope this afternoon?" + +"According to the report that reached us, there was. Could the Prince +only bear up through this one night all would be well." + +He passed up the stairs as he spoke. Watton led the way into a +sitting-room at the back of the house, and Mrs. Cray followed her in +perplexed silence, in eager curiosity, unable to understand the words +she had heard. + +That great and good Prince, whom England knew too little, and whom to +know was to love, was indeed lying _in extremis_ in the castle that +had been his many years' home. On that calm, clear, soft December +night, when the streets of London were alive with bustle and pleasure, +there was a dying bed not many miles away from it, around whose hushed +stillness knelt England's sovereign, England's royal children. The +gracious and benignant Prince, the faithful consort, the loyal +husband, the tender anxious father, was winging his flight away; +sinking gradually but surely from those loving arms, those tearful +eyes, those yearning prayers, which could not keep him. + +London had been shocked that day. Not so shocked as she might have +been; for perhaps not one living man within her walls realised to his +mind the possibility of the worst. _Death!--for him!_ It was +impossible to contemplate it: and from the first duke in the land down +to the little pauper boys who sold for a penny the newspapers +containing the bulletins none did seriously fear it. + +Mrs. Cray listened as one aroused out of a dream. The Prince ill!--ill +unto danger! The Prince who had been associated in men's minds as one +enshrined in a bright halo of prosperity, in the very sunshine of +happiness!--who had looked down from his dizzy height on other men as +if he stood above the world! It seemed incredible. Watton gave the +details, so far as they were known to the general public; the few +days' illness, the apprehensions excited on the Friday, the +fluctuating accounts of that same day; the unfavourable news of the +morning, the afternoon's opinion of the medical men at Windsor, that +if the Prince could only bear up through that one night--the night now +entered upon--all would be well. And now the latest tidings were that +he was sinking! + +Mrs. Cray forgot her own weakness, her fatigue, in these all-absorbing +tidings. But it was as impossible for her to believe in the worst for +him as it had been for the public. A few minutes of awestruck +consternation, and hope reasserted its supremacy in her heart. Nay, +not only hope, but a certainty that it "would be well." I honestly +believe that such was the prevailing feeling in every breast. It was +so hard, it was so _hard_ to look upon the reverse side of the +picture. + +"We had heard nothing of this at Honfleur!" + +"And we can't be said to have heard much of it here until today," was +Watton's answer. "It has come upon us with startling suddenness. Oh, +if we can but get better tidings in the morning!" + +"We shall be sure to do that, Watton," said Caroline, in a low, +hopeful tone. "Death surely could not come to _him_." + +Watton made her some tea, and she sat over the fire in the +sitting-room while she drank it. She could not eat: generally her +appetite was good, but fatigue and excitement had taken it away +tonight. She told of her residence in the French town, she hinted +slightly at their want of success, and Watton looked grave as she +spoke of her side. + +"You think the London doctors can cure you, Miss Caroline?"--for the +old name came far more familiar to Watton than the new one. + +"I did think so," replied Caroline, feeling that the strong conviction +of this, which had amounted to a disease in Honfleur, had in some +unexplainable manner gone out of her. "I seem not to be sure of it, as +I was before I came." + +"And shall you make a long stay in London?" + +"About a week. I have come for advice only, not to stay to be cured. +Aunt Bettina's is no house for me; and perhaps I cannot even stay +there at all. Captain Davenal and his wife may have arrived." + +She heaved a sigh of weary despondency. Watton urged her to retire; +but Caroline felt at rest in the easy chair, and still sat on. It was +so long since she had seen a home face, or conversed with a home +tongue. + +"Who was that gentleman who passed us as I was coming in?" she asked, +"he who spoke of the Prince?" And Watton replied that it was Mr. +Comyng, a junior partner of the house, and the only one of the +partners who resided there. + +It wanted scarce a quarter to twelve when Caroline at length went +upstairs to a very high bedroom. Whether it was Watton's room, or not +Caroline did not know, but it had been made cheery. The curtains and +bed were white and pleasant-looking, and a fire sparkled in the grate. +Watton would have stayed with her to help her undress, but Caroline +preferred to be alone. + +When left to herself, she drew aside the window-curtains, and saw that +the room faced the front: there stood old St Paul's, grim and +formidable, and apparently so close to her that she might have fancied +it within a leap. Letting the curtain remain open, she sat down at the +fire, before which was drawn a chair as easy as the one downstairs. + +She sat with her head pillowed on the high arm, gazing at the blaze, +and musing over present events. Their strangely uncertain life at +Honfleur, poor Mark's position and poverty, her own malady and the +curious manner in which she had lost that eager faith in the result of +her journey, her reception on the morrow by Miss Davenal--and with all +these thoughts were mingled more prominently the tidings which had +greeted her since her entrance. + +Unconsciously to herself she dropped into a doze. It was a very +foolish thing to do, of course, for she would have been much better in +bed; but none of us are wise always. She dozed placidly; and the first +thing that in the least aroused her, and that only partially, was the +booming out in her ear of a deep-toned bell. + +"St. Paul's clock striking twelve," was the supposition that crossed +her mind in its state of semi-sleep. But ere many minutes had gone by +she became alive to the fact that the striking did not cease, that +the strokes of the bell were tolling out fast and loud as--as--a +_death-bell_ strikes out. + +It has not been the fate of many to hear the bell of St. Paul's +Cathedral strike out at midnight. Those who _have_ will never forget +it during life. Never, never, will it be forgotten by those few who +heard it as it went booming into the air on that still December night, +bearing forth its message of woe to the startled hearts of the +metropolis. + +For a brief moment Mrs. Cray wondered what was the matter. She sprang +out of her chair and stood staring at the edifice, as if in mute +inquiry of what it meant. And then--when she remembered what had +been said that night--and the recollection flashed on her with that +heart-sickness that generally accompanies some awful terror--she +opened the window and leaned out. + +Three or four persons were standing underneath, motionless, still as +if they had collected there to gaze at the dark cathedral, to listen +to the booming bell. "What is it?" she called out "What does it mean?" + +Her voice, raised by excitement to unnatural strength and clearness, +was heard distinctly. Those standing below looked up. In one of them +she thought she recognised Mr. Comyng. He was standing bare-headed, +his hat in his hand, and his solemn answer came up to her in the +stillness of the night. + +"Prince Albert's gone." + +A moment of bewildering suspense, while the mind refused to admit the +dreadful truth, and Caroline Cray turned sick and faint. And then the +sobbing cry burst from her heart and lips--a cry that was to find its +echo from thousands and thousands as the hours went on-- + +"Oh, the Queen! the Queen! May God help and support the Queen!" + + + + +CHAPTER LV. +A DESOLATE NIGHT. + + +Yes, he was gone. Great Britain rose on the Sunday morning to the +news, for the telegraphs were at work, and the tidings were carried +through the length and breadth of the land. And people did not believe +it. It could not be! Why, it seemed but yesterday that he had come +over in the flower of youth and promise to wed the fair young Queen! +Dead! Prince Albert dead! None of you have forgotten the wide gap in +the Litany that Sunday morning; the pale lips of the clergymen, +compelled to make it; the quivering, breathless hearts that answered +to it. But for the remembrance that God's ways are not as our ways, +how many of those startled and grieved hearts would have felt tempted +to question the _why_ of the stroke, in their imperfect wisdom. + +But to return to Caroline Cray, for the night was not yet over and +the bell was ringing out. When the first immediate shock had passed, +she quitted the window and leaned her head upon the counterpane. A +solemn awe had laid hold of her, and she felt as she had never felt +in all her life. Her whole soul seemed to go up in--may I dare to +say?--heavenly commune. It was as if heaven had opened--had become +very near. I may be mistaken, but I believe this same feeling was +experienced by many in the first startling shock. This was so entirely +unlike an ordinary death; even of one of our near and dear relatives. +Heaven seemed no longer the far-off mysterious place she had been wont +to regard it, but a _home_, a refuge, all near and real. It had opened +and taken him in; in his early manhood; in his full usefulness; in +England's need; when that wife and royal lady had learned to lean +upon him; when his sons and his daughters were growing up around him, +some of them at the moment in other lands, out of reach of the +loving farewell of his aching heart! with his mission here--it so +seemed--only half-fulfilled!--it had taken him in before his time, and +gathered him to his rest. He did not seem to have gone entirely away; +he was only hidden beyond reach and sight for a little while; that +same refuge would open for her, Caroline, and others; a little +earlier, a little later, and she and all would follow him. Heavy as +the blow was in itself, incapable as she was of understanding it, it +yet seemed an earnest of the overruling presence of the living God. +Oh, what was the poor world in that night, with the strokes of the +death-bell sounding in her ears, compared to that never-ending world +above, that heritage on which he had entered! + +Fatigue and emotion did their most on Mrs. Cray. In the morning she +was unable to get up, and Watton wisely and kindly urged that she +should not rise at all that day, but take a good rest, and go on to +Miss Davenal's on the morrow. So she lay where she was, and listened +to that gloomy death-bell, as it periodically gave forth its sound; +and the bursts of tears, in her bodily weakness could not be +suppressed, but came forth repeatedly to wet the pillow, as she +thought of the widowed Queen, the fatherless children. + +The day's rest did her a great deal of good, and she rose on the +Monday renovated and refreshed. A wish had come over her that she +could see a doctor and learn her fate before she went to her aunt +Bettina's. She had not come to town with the intention of consulting +any particular surgeon;--indeed she hardly knew the name of one from +another. Watton, when sitting with her on the Sunday night, had spoken +of a noted surgeon living in Westminster, and Caroline remembered then +to have heard Dr. Davenal speak of his skill: and she determined to go +to him. + +She went up in an early omnibus through the mourning streets. The +bells were tolling, the shutters were partially closed, men and women +stood in groups to converse, sadness pervading every countenance. The +surgeon, Mr. Welch, was at home, but she had to wait her turn to be +admitted to him. + +He was not in the least like Monsieur Le Bleu, except in one little +matter--he wore spectacles. A silent man, who looked more than talked; +he bade Mrs. Cray tell her case to him from beginning to end in the +best manner she was able, and he never took his spectacles from her +face while she was doing so. + +What she said necessitated an examination of the side. It could be but +a slight one there, dressed as she was, but the surgeon appeared to +form a pretty rapid opinion. She inquired whether it was curable, and +he replied that he could not say upon so superficial an examination, +but he would see her at home, if she would tell him where she lived. +In her reply, when she said she had no home in London, it escaped her +that her husband was a medical man living in France. + +"What part of it?" he inquired. + +"At Honfleur." + +"Honfleur!" echoed the surgeon in an accent of surprise. "Is there +sufficient practice to employ an English medical man at Honfleur? I +should not have thought it. I was there a year or two ago." + +The consciousness of the truth of what the "practice" was dyed her +cheeks with their carmine flush. Her eyelids drooped, her trembling +fingers entwined themselves convulsively one within the other, as if +there were some sad tale to tell. Her bonnet was untied, and its rich +white strings (for Watton had affixed these new ones, and taken off +the dirty ones) fell on her velvet cloak, nearly the only good relic +left of other days. That grave gentleman of sixty, seated opposite to +her, thought he had never seen so lovely a face, with its fragile +features, its delicate bloom, and its shrinking expression. + +She raised her dark blue violet eyes, their lashes wet. Misfortune had +brought to her a strange humility. "There's not much practice yet, +sir. It may come with time." + +He thought he could discern the whole case. It is that of _some_ who go +abroad; a struggle for existence, anxiety of mind and body, privation, +and the latent constitutional weakness showing itself at last. + +One single word of confidential sympathy, and Caroline burst into +tears. Her spirits that morning were strangely low, and she had no +power to struggle against emotion. + +"I beg your pardon," she murmured apologetically when she could speak. +"The fatigue of the long journey--the universal gloom around--I shall +be better in a minute." + +"Now tell me all about it," said Mr. Welch in a kind tone, when she +had recovered. "There's an old saying, you know: 'Tell your whole case +to your lawyer and your doctor,' and it is a good injunction. I like +my patients to treat me as a friend. I suppose; the practice in +Honfleur is worth about five francs every three months, and that you +have suffered physically in consequence. Don't hesitate to speak: I +can shake hands with your husband: when I was first in practice I had +hardly bread to eat." + +It was so exceedingly like the real fact, "about five francs every +three months," and his manner and tone were so entirely kind and +sympathising, that Mrs. Cray made no pretence of denial. The practice +was really not enough to starve upon, she acknowledged: none of the +English residents at Honfleur ever got ill. + +"But why did your husband settle there? Was it his first essay?--his +start in life?" + +"O no. He was in practice at Hallingham before that, in partnership +with Dr. Davenal." + +"With Dr. Davenal!" + +The repetition of the name, the astonished tone, recalled Mrs. Cray to +a sense of her inadvertence. The admission had slipped from her +carelessly, in the thoughtlessness of the moment. Mr. Welch saw that +there was something behind, and he kept his inquiring eyes fixed upon +her. She felt obliged to give some sort of explanation. + +"After Dr. Davenal's death my husband gave up the medical profession, +and embarked in something else. He thought he should like it better. +But it--it---failed: And he went to Honfleur." + +Her confusion--which she could not hide--was very palpable: it was +confusion as well as distress. All in a moment the name, Cray, struck +upon a chord in the surgeon's memory. It was his custom to take down +the names of his patients ere he entered upon their cases, and he +looked again at the memorandum-book before him. "Cray." + +"Your husband is not the Mr. Cray who was connected with the Great +Chwddyn Mine!" he exclaimed. "Marcus Cray?" + +She was startled to tremor. There was no cause for it, of course the +fact of its being known that she was Mark's wife could not result in +their taking _him_. But these unpleasant recognitions do bring a fear +with them, startling as it is vague. + +"Don't be alarmed," said the surgeon kindly, discerning the exact +state of the case. "I do not wish ill to your husband. I was no +shareholder in the company. Not but that I felt an inclination for a +dip into it, and might have had it, had the thing gone on." + +"It was not Mr. Cray's fault," she gasped. "He would have kept the +water out had it been in his power: its coming in ruined him. I cannot +see--I have never been able to see--why everybody should be so much +against him." + +"I cannot understand why he need keep away," was the answering remark. + +He looked at her inquiringly as he spoke. She shook her head in a +helpless sort of manner: she had never clearly understood it either. + +"Ah well; I see you don't know much; you young wives rarely do. Did +you know Dr. Davenal?" + +"He was my uncle," she said. "He brought me up. I was Miss Caroline +Davenal." + +Another moment of surprise for Mr. Welch. It seemed so impossible for +a niece of the good and flourishing physician-surgeon to be so +reduced, as he suspected she was--almost homeless, friendless, +penniless. + +She was struggling with her tears again. With the acknowledgment her +memory had gone back to the old home, the old days. She had scarcely +believed _then_ there was such a thing as care in the world; +_now_----? + +"You will tell me the truth about myself," she said, recovering +composure. "I came to England to learn it. _Pray_ don't deceive me. I +am a doctor's wife you know, and can bear these shocks," she added, +with a poor attempt at a smile. "Besides, I seem to _know_ the fate +that is in store for me: since Saturday night I have not felt that I +should get well." + +There was one moment of hesitation--of indecision. Caroline caught at +it all too readily. "I see," she said, "there is no hope." + +"I said nothing of the sort," he returned. + +"But I am sure you think that there is not. Mr. Cray thought there +might be an operation: the French doctor said no." + +"I cannot tell you anything decisive now. I will come to you if you +will tell me where." + +She gave him Miss Davenal's address. "I am so sorry to trouble you; I +did not think of that. A few days and I shall go back to France." + +"No," replied the surgeon. "You must not think of going back. It would +not do." + +"But I came. And it has not hurt me." + +"You must not return." + +He spoke in a tone so quietly grave that Caroline did not like it. +Could it be that he knew she would be unable to go back? What would +become of Mark? what would become of _her?_ But she could not take up +his time longer then. + +"Is this right?" she asked timidly, as she laid a sovereign and a +shilling on the table. + +"It's quite wrong," said he. "Doctors don't prey upon one another. +My dear lady, do you think I should take money from Dr. Davenal's +niece?--or your husband's wife? Anything that I can possibly do for +you I shall be most happy to do--and I am glad you happened to come to +me." + +She went out of the house. Why it should have been she could not tell, +for certainly Mr. Welch's words had not induced it, but the conviction +of a fatal termination, which had but dawned upon her before, had +taken firm possession of her now. Lost in thought as she walked, she +missed the turning by which she had gained the surgeon's house, and, +found herself at last in a labyrinth, far away from omnibuses and +anything else available. + +One directed her this way; one directed her that. Weary, faint, unfit +to move another step, she found herself at last in a street whose +aspect seemed more familiar; but not until she caught sight of a +door-plate, "Bracknell, Street, and Oswald Cray," did she recognise it +to be Parliament Street. + +The temptation to go in and ask to be allowed to rest was strong upon +her, but she did not like to do so, and walked on, longing to sit down +on every door-step. A little way further and she met Oswald Cray. + +When the physical strength has been taxed beyond its power, especially +in a peculiar case such as hers, any little break to it of mental +excitement either renovates it for the moment or destroys it utterly. +It was the latter case with Caroline. + +"Mrs. Cray!" exclaimed Oswald, in surprise. "I did not know you were +in London." + +She caught hold of something in her faintness. Whether pillar, railings, +post, she could not have told. Her brow grew moist, her lips white. +Oswald hastened to support her. + +"I have lost my way," she gasped, leaning heavily upon him. "I missed +it when I came out of the surgeon's, Mr. Welch. I came over from +Honfleur on Saturday, Oswald; I came to consult an English doctor. I +am dying." + +"Dying!" repeated Oswald. "No, no, it is only a little faintness." + +"Not _this_. I shall be better of this directly. It is my side. I'll +tell you about it when the faintness has passed. I thought there was +no hope for me. I know it now." + +He was leading her gently, by slow steps, towards the house. "How is +Mark? Is he here too?" he asked. + +"Not Mark. He cannot come, you know." + +"Is he getting on?" + +"Oh, Oswald! getting on! There's no practice; and we have not a +penny-piece; and--I--I am dying. Oh, if I had not to die abroad! If +Mark could but come to me." + +"Where are you staying?" he asked after a pause. + +"Watton gave me shelter. It was late when the boat got up, too late to +go on to my aunt Bettina's, and I called at Watton's, and asked her to +take me in. Oswald!--Oswald!--" + +"What?" he asked, for she had dropped her voice, and her utterance +seemed to be impeded by emotion. + +"I heard the bell toll out for Prince Albert! I was close to it!" + +"Ah!" + +"Oswald! can you realise the fact that he is dead?" + +"Not yet; scarcely yet. It is difficult to believe that _he_ is taken, +while we are left. It seems to us, in our finite notions, that there's +hardly a man in the realm but could have been better spared. But God +knows best." + +His tone of pain had changed to reverence. There was no more said +until they reached his door. He assisted her upstairs to the old +sitting-room, the same sitting-room, with the same plans and charts +and signs of work on its table. Oswald was a full partner now. +Industry--trustful, patient, persevering, fair-dealing industry--had +met with its reward. Did you ever know it fail? I never did. + +Mr. Bracknell had virtually retired from the firm, leaving most of its +profit to Mr. Street and Oswald Cray. Had Miss Sara Davenal been the +daughter of the still-living and flourishing physician, on whom not a +cloud rested, as was the case in the years gone by, Oswald could have +asked for her hand now, and given her a home that even he would have +deemed worthy of her. + +Not having her, however, or any other lady, as a wife in prospective, +he was content to let the home remain in abeyance, and lived in the +old rooms, putting up with the comforts and agreeables Mrs. Benn chose +to provide for him. The first thing Caroline did, on being placed on +an easy chair, was to faint away. It was the only time she had fainted +since the day in October when she walked to the Côte de Grâce. Mark +Cray gave fatigue the benefit of the blame then, and it was probably +due to the same cause now. When Mrs. Benn came up in answer to +Oswald's summons, nothing could well exceed her amazement at seeing a +lifeless lady lying in the chair, her bonnet hanging at the back by +its strings, her gloves on the ground, and Mr. Oswald Cray rubbing her +unconscious hands. + +The first thought that occurred to Mrs. Benn was one of wonder how she +got there: the second, that it was some stranger who had come to the +offices on business, and had been taken ill. + +"She's married, at any rate," remarked that lady, as she took up the +left hand to chafe it. "But nobody would say so to look in her face. +She's like a girl." + +"Don't you know her?" returned Oswald, glancing at the woman. "It is +Mrs. Cray; my brother's wife." + +Mrs. Benn gave a shriek in her surprise. "_Her!_ Why, sir, how she's +altered! She looks fit----" + +"Hush!" was his interrupting caution, for Caroline began to revive. +"Can't we improvise a sofa or mattress, or something of that sort, to +place her on?" + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. +NO HOPE. + + +In the same house at Pimlico, and in the same attire as of yore, save +that the deeper mourning had been exchanged for rich silks, and the +black ribbons on the real _guipure_ caps for white or grey, sat Miss +Bettina Davenal. She was not altered. She had the same stately +presence, the same pale, refined features; she was of a stamp that +changes little, and never seems to grow old. Sara had changed more +than her aunt, and the earnest, sweet expression, always +characteristic of her face, was mingled now with habitual sadness. She +wore a robe of soft grey cashmere, its white collar tied with ribbon, +and bows of the same ornamenting the lace sleeves shading her delicate +wrists. + +Miss Bettina stood, grandly courteous; Sara's cheeks were flushed, and +she played with a key which had happened to be in her hand as she +rose. Oswald Cray had come in unexpectedly, and was telling the story +of Caroline; telling it rapidly, before he took the chair offered him. +What with the extraordinary nature of the news, and Miss Bettina's +inaptitude for hearing, it was a difficult business as usual. + +"Come over from Honfleur in a goods-boat, and it didn't get here?" +exclaimed Miss Bettina, commenting on what she did hear--for Oswald +repeated the particulars Caroline had disclosed to him on her revival. +"And _where_ do you say she's lying, sir?" + +"In my sitting-room in Parliament Street." + +"The boat is?" questioned Miss Bettina, looking at Oswald keenly, as +if she thought he had lost his senses. "I beg your pardon Mr. Oswald +Cray, I must have misunderstood." + +"Caroline is lying there, not the boat. I fear she is very ill. She +looks so; and she says she is suffering from some fatal complaint." + +"Fatal mistake! I should think so," returned Miss Bettina. "If ever a +man made that, it was Mark Cray when he threw up Hallingham. But +what's she come for? And why did she go to you instead of to me?" + +But Sara had drawn near to Oswald. _She_ had heard the explanation +aright, and the words "fatal complaint" frightened her. "Do you know +what it is?" she asked. "Is she very ill?" + +"She is so ill, if her looks may be trusted, that I should think she +cannot live long," he answered. "I came down to you at once. Something +must be done with her; we cannot let her go back to Watton's. If you +are unable to receive her, I will get a lodging--" + +"But we are not unable to receive her," interrupted Sara. "Of course +we are not. My aunt--" + +"Caroline doubted whether you had room. She has just told me you were +expecting Captain Davenal and his wife." + +"We are looking for their arrival daily. Perhaps the ship may be in +today. But they will not stay with us: Lady Reid expects them there. +Did you not know Edward was coming?" she continued, quitting for a +moment the subject of Caroline. "His wife's father is dead, and +business is bringing them home. She has come into a large fortune." + +"_Will_ you let me understand what this matter is?" interposed Miss +Bettina. + +It recalled them to the present. But to make Miss Bettina +understand--or rather hear--was a work not speedily accomplished. She +even was aware of it herself. + +"I am not myself today, sir," she said to Oswald Cray. "I have not +been myself since yesterday morning. When the tidings were brought to +me that--that it was all over with that good Prince--I felt as I had +never felt in my life before. It is not a common death, Mr. Oswald +Cray, or a common loss, even had we been prepared for it. But we were +not prepared. That Royal Lady and her children were not prepared; and +we can but pray God, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, to love +and help them." + +"Amen!" responded the heart of Oswald. + +When there was a real necessity for Miss Bettina Davenal's relenting +in her severity, she did relent. She returned with Mr. Oswald Cray, +and Sara went with them. On her way she spoke to him about the rise in +his prospects, a rumour of which she had heard from Neal. + +"Is it true?" she asked, bending forward to catch his answer, as he +sat opposite to her in the carriage. + +"It is true that my share has been considerably increased. Mr. +Bracknell has retired." + +"I suppose you will take a house now?" + +"I think not," said Oswald. "Single men don't care to set up a house +of their own." + +"What men don't?" + +"Unmarried men." + +"Oh," said Miss Bettina. "Do you never intend to marry?" + +Oswald laughed. "I have no time to think about it, Miss Bettina." + +Miss Bettina did not catch the answer. "Some time ago we had reason +given us to think that you were about to marry. Did you change your +mind?" + +It was a home question. Oswald could have joked it off but for that +gentle, conscious, Dent face in the opposite corner. "We have to give +up all kinds of fond dreams and visions, you know, Miss Bettina. Youth +is very apt to indulge in such: and they mostly turn out vain." + +"Turned out vain, did she? I must say I did not think she was in a +position worthy of you." + +Oswald opened his eyes. "Of whom are you speaking, Miss Davenal?" + +"Of you. I was not speaking of any one else." + +"But the lady? You alluded to a lady." + +"Oh, the lady. You don't want me to tell you her name. You know it +well enough. That young Scotch lady whose brother was ill." + +He breathed with a feeling of relief. A fear had come over him that +his dearest feelings had been exposed to Miss Davenal--perhaps to +others. Sara's colour heightened, and she raised her eyes momentarily. +They met Oswald's: and she was vexed with herself. + +"I shall most likely live a bachelor all my days, Miss Davenal. I +believe I shall." + +"More unwise of you, Mr. Oswald Cray! Bachelors are to be pitied. They +never get a cup of decent tea or a button on their shirts." + +"I am independent of buttons; I have set up studs. See," he continued, +showing his wrists. "And tea I don't particularly care for." + +Miss Bettina thought he was serious. "You'd be happier as a +married man, with somebody to take care of your comforts. It is so +different with women; _they_ are happiest single--at least, such is my +belief--and their comforts are in their own hands." + +"The difficulty is to find somebody suitable, Miss Bettina. Especially +to us busy men, who have no time to look out." + +"True," she answered. But whether she heard or not was another matter. +"What's Mark Cray about?" she presently asked, somewhat abruptly. +"Doing any more harm?" + +"I hear he is not doing any good. There's no practice in Honfleur." + +"No politics?" + +"Practice." + +"Nobody in their senses would have thought there was. Perhaps he +expects to get up a mining scheme there, and dazzle the French." + +"If he is to do any good for himself, he must come over and get clear +of the mining scheme here," observed Oswald. + +Miss Davenal nodded her head and drew in her lips. It was not often +that she condescended to make the slightest allusion to Mark Cray. + +Mrs. Cray was asleep when they entered. She lay on the couch hastily +improvised for her, dressed, and covered with a warm counterpane. One +hand was under her wan cheek, the other lay outside, white, attenuate, +cold. Miss Bettina Davenal took one look; one look only with those +keen eyes of hers. It was quite enough, and an exclamation of dismay +broke from her lips. Caroline opened her eyes and gazed around in +bewilderment. + +"Aunt Bettina! Have they brought you to see me? Will you take me in +for a day or two until I can go back?" + +"I have come for you," said Miss Bettina. + +Until I can go back! Poor thing! what had she to go back to? A lodging +in a foreign land that they might be turned from at any hour, for the +rent could not be paid up; scanty nourishment, care, trouble, almost +despair. Only Mark to lean upon, with his wavering instability: his +vague chatter of the something that was to "turn up." Better depend +upon a reed than upon Mark Cray. + +Sara Davenal had drawn back for a moment, that the shock on her own +face might be subdued before presenting it to Caroline. Oswald passed +round to her. + +"Is she dying?" came the frightened whisper. + +"Do not be alarmed," he answered. "She looked worse than this when I +first brought her in. She has had a good deal of excitement and +fatigue these last few days, and that tells upon her appearance." + +"Yes--but--do you know there's a look in her face that puts me in mind +of papa's. Of papa's as it was the night he died." + +It was not often that Sara gave way to emotion. The moisture had +gathered on her brow, and her hands were trembling. Oswald gently laid +his hand upon her shoulder. + +"_You_ are not going to faint, surely, Sara!" + +"No, no "--and the slightest possible smile parted her trembling lips. +"I used to think I was very brave, but lately--at times--I have found +myself a coward. I seem to become afraid at trifles," she continued in +a dreamy tone, as if debating the question with herself why it should +be so. + +"Where's Sara? I thought I saw her." + +Sara moved forward at the words. She suppressed all sign of emotion as +she stooped over her cousin. Caroline was the one to show it now. She +burst into tears and sobbed hysterically. + +"If Uncle Richard were but alive! He could cure me." + +"Don't, Caroline, don't distress yourself. There are doctors as clever +as papa was." + +"I kept thinking"--she turned her colourless face to Sara as she +spoke--"I kept thinking at Honfleur of Uncle Richard; that if the old +days could come back again, and I were at home with him at Hallingham +in the old house as it used to be, I should be well soon. The thought +kept haunting me. And, Sara, I am sure if my uncle were alive he +_could_ cure me. I shall never believe otherwise." + +She paused. Sara knew not what reply to make. Miss Davenal did not +catch the words, and Oswald leaned on the back of a chair in silence, +only looking at her as she lay. + +"Why should this conviction have haunted me? Uncle Richard was gone. +Mark kept dinning in my ears that there were other doctors as good as +Dr. Davenal, and at last I grew to think so too, because they were +English. So I came over; I should have had a fever or died if I had +not come; and now I see how foolish the hope was, for they _can't_ cure +me. Nobody could do it but Uncle Richard." + +Miss Bettina had been bending her ear close to the invalid, and caught +the sense of the words. "Why do you think nobody can cure you?" + +"I feel that they can't. No: Uncle Richard's gone, and there's no +chance for me." + +They got her ready, Oswald helped her down to the carriage, and she +was conveyed home. The only home she would henceforth know in this +world. Dorcas stood in the passage, and looked on askance as she +entered the house. _That_ the blooming young bride whom she had +received into the Abbey at Hallingham little more than two short years +before! + +Sara gave up her room to her as the most commodious one in the house, +herself taking the chamber at the back of it, which had been +occasionally occupied by Dick and Leo. Caroline looked round the room +as she lay in bed, a curious, inquiring sort of gaze in her eyes. + +"Have I been in this room before?" she suddenly asked. + +She had never been in it. Her visits to Miss Bettina's, during the +prosperity in Grosvenor Place, were not sufficiently familiar to allow +of her entering the bedrooms. Sara told her she had never yet been in +it. + +"I seem to know it all; I seem to have seen it before. I suppose it's +a sign that I shall die in it." + +She spoke dreamily, alluding to a foolish superstition that she had +heard in her childhood, and probably had never thought of since. It +was not a very promising beginning. + +Miss Davenal wrote a line to Mr. Welch, the surgeon, and he called in +the evening. Caroline was better then, calm and cheerful. Her spirits +had revived in a wonderful manner; but it was in her nature to be +subject to these sudden fluctuations. + +"Shall I get well?" she asked, when his examination was over. + +"I will do what I can for you. The pain I think can be very +considerably alleviated." + +It was not a satisfactory answer. To most ears it might have savoured +of considerate evasion, but it did not to Caroline's. "Must there be +an operation?" she resumed. + +"No." + +She looked up at him from the depths of her violet eyes, pausing +before she spoke again. "Monsieur Le Bleu said there must be an +operation, if it could be performed. _If_, he said; he did not seem +sure. It was the only chance, he said." + +The surgeon met the remark jokingly. "Monsieur Le Bleu's very +clever--as he no doubt thinks. I will see you again tomorrow, Mrs. +Cray." + +"But--stay a moment. Tell me at least by which day I shall be ready to +go back. You can put me in the proper way of treatment, and I will +pursue it over there." + +"Not by any day. You must not think of returning to France." + +She looked puzzled: there was a wild expression in her eyes. "Do you mean +that I shall not be able to return at all?" + +"Yes, I do. I say that you must not venture upon the shores of France +again. We can't think of trusting you to the care of that clever +French doctor, you know." + +And before Caroline had recovered her surprise sufficiently to rejoin, +Mr. Welch had left the chamber and was down in the drawing-room with +Miss Davenal. She bent her head as she waited for his opinion. + +"Do you wish for the truth, ma'am?" he asked. + +"Wish for what?" repeated Miss Bettina, putting her hand to her ear. + +"The truth." + +"Do I wish for the truth?" she retorted, affronted at the question. +"Sir, I am the daughter of one surgeon and the sister of another; I +don't know to whom the truth may be told if not to me. It is +_necessary_ that I should know it." + +Mr. Welch gave her the truth: that there was no hope whatever. At +least, what he said was equivalent to that. + +"And the operation that she talks of?" + +"It cannot be performed. The case is not an ordinary one." + +Miss Bettina was for a minute silent. "My brother, Dr. Davenal, always +said Caroline had no constitution." + +"Dr. Davenal was right," returned the surgeon. "Mrs. Cray is one--if I +may form a judgment upon so short an acquaintance--who could never, +even under the most auspicious surroundings, have lived to grow old." + +"I remember a remark he made to me after Caroline's marriage with Mark +Cray was fixed--that it was well she should marry a doctor, for she'd +need watching. A fine doctor, indeed!" continued Miss Bettina, +irascibly, as she recalled Mark's later career. "If my poor brother +had but known! I suppose it is all this disgrace that has brought it +on!" + +"It may have hastened it," said the surgeon. "But this, or some other +disease, would inevitably have developed itself sooner or later. The +germs were within her." + +"And now what can be done for her?" + +"Nothing in the world can be done for her, as regards a cure. We must +try and alleviate the pain. That she will now grow worse rapidly +there's not a doubt. Miss Davenal, she must be kept tranquil." + +It was all very well for Mr. Welch to say she must be kept tranquil; +but Caroline Cray was one who had had an absolute spirit of her own +all her life, and an excitable one. When Miss Bettina went up to her +room after the departure of the surgeon she found her in a wild state. +Her cheeks were crimson with incipient fever, her eyes glistening. +Sara, terrified, was holding her down in bed: begging her to be +reasonable. + +"I want to go back at once, Aunt Bettina," she exclaimed, throwing out +her arms in a sort of frenzy. "He says I can't go back to France, but +I will go. What does he know about it, I wonder? I was well enough to +come, and I am well enough to go back! Be quiet, Sara! Why do you wish +to prevent my speaking? You'll send me back today, won't you, Aunt +Bettina?" + +"I'll send for a strait waistcoat and put you into that," shrilly +cried Miss Bettina in her vexation. "This is a repetition of the +childishness of the old days." + +"I won't be separated from Mark. Though he has been mistaken and +imprudent, he is still my husband. It's a shame that Mr. Welch should +want to keep me here! Don't you be so cruel as to side with him, Aunt +Bettina." + +For once in her life Miss Bettina Davenal lent herself to an evasive +compromise. She promised Caroline that she should go back when she was +a little stronger, perhaps in two or three days, she said. And it had +the desired effect. It soothed away the invalid's dangerous +excitement, and she turned round on her pillow and went to sleep +quietly. + +But as the days went on, and the disease--as the surgeon had +foretold--rapidly developed itself, it became plain to Mrs. Cray +herself that returning to France was out of the question. And then her +tone changed. She no longer prayed in impatient words to be sent: she +bewailed in impassioned tones that she must die away from her husband. +One day, towards the end of December, it almost seemed that her brain +was slightly affected, perhaps from weakness. She started suddenly +from the sofa in the drawing-room, where she was reclining, and seized +hold of the hands of her aunt in a wild manner. + +"O Aunt Bettina! Aunt Bettina! if I had not to go over there to die!" + +"Over where?" cried Miss Bettina. "What are you talking of, child?" + +"_There_. Honfleur. If I had not to go! If I could but stop in my own +land, among you to the last! It may not be for long!" + +Miss Bettina, what with the suddenness of the attack and her own +deafness, was bewildered. "I don't hear," she helplessly said. + +"They have got two cemeteries, but I'd not like to lie in either," +went on Caroline. "Mark won't stop in the town for ever, and there'd +be nobody to look at my grave. Aunt, aunt, I can't go over there to +die!" + +"But you are not going there," returned Miss Bettina, catching the +sense of the words. "You must be dreaming, Caroline. You are not going +back to Honfleur." + +"I must go. I can't die away from Mark. Aunt, listen!" she +passionately continued, clasping the wrist of Miss Bettina until that +lady felt the pain. "It is one of two things: either I must go to +Honfleur, or Mark must come here. I _cannot_ die away from him." + +The cry was reiterated until it grew into a wail of agony. She was +suffering herself to fall into that excess of nervous agitation so +difficult to soothe, so pernicious to the sick frame. Sara came in +alarmed, and learned the nature of the excitement. She leaned over the +sofa with a soothing whisper. + +"Dear Carine! only be quiet: only be comforted! We will manage to get +Mark here." + +The low tone, the gentle words, seemed partially to allay the storm of +the working brain. Caroline turned to Sara. + +"What do you say you'll do?" + +"Get Mark over to London." + +She thought for a moment, and then shook her head and spoke wearily, a +wailing plaint in her tone. + +"You will never get him over. He is not to be got over. I know Mark +better than you, Sara. So long as that miserable Wheal Bang hangs over +his head he will not set his foot on English ground. I have heard him +say so times upon times since he left these shores, and he will not +break his word. He is afraid, you see. O Aunt Bettina!" throwing up +her arms again in renewed excitement--"what an awful mistake it was!" + +"What was a mistake?" returned Miss Bettina, catching the last word +and no other. + +"_What!_" echoed the unhappy invalid in irritation. "The quitting +Hallingham; the past altogether. It was giving up the substance for +the shadow. If we had but listened to you! If Mark had never heard of +the Great Wheal Bang!" + +Oh, those ifs, those ifs! how they haunt us through life! How many of +us are perpetually giving up the substance for the shadow! + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. +DREADFUL TREACHERY. + + +Mr. Mark Cray stood on the little bit of low stony ground that +bordered the coast at Honfleur, just outside the entrance of the +harbour. Mr. Mark was kicking pebbles into the water. Being in a +remarkably miserable and indecisive state of mind, having nothing on +earth to do, he had strolled out of his lodgings anywhere that his +legs chose to carry him; and there he was, looking into the water on +that gloomy winter's evening. + +But pray don't fear that he had any ulterior designs of making himself +better acquainted with its chilly depths. Men in the extremity of +despair have been known to entertain such; Mark Cray never would have +dreamt of it. There was an elasticity in Mark's spirit, a shallowness +of feeling quite incompatible with that sad state of mind hinted at, +and the most prominent question pervading Mark, even now was, how long +it would be before something "turned up." + +Not but that Mark Cray was miserable enough; in a bodily sense, +however, rather than a mental. It was not an agreeable state of things +by any means to have no money to go on with; to be wanting it in a +hundred odd ways; to be told that if he did not pay up at his lodgings +that week he must turn out of them--and the French have an +inconvenient way of not allowing you to evade such mandates. It was +not pleasant to be reduced to a meal or so a day, and that not a +sumptuous one; it was not convenient to be restricted to the pair of +boots he had on, and to know that the soles were letting in the wet; +it was not cheery to be out of charcoal for the cooking _réchauds_, or +to have but a shovelful of coals left for the parlour; moreover and +above all, it was most especially annoying and unbearable not to have +had the money to pay for a letter that morning, and which, in +consequence of that failure, the inexorable postman had carried away +with him. + +Mrs. Cray's assertion--that her husband never would be got over to +London so long as the formidable Wheal Bang threatened danger--proved +to be a correct one. Mark had declined the invitation to go. News had +been conveyed to him in an unmistakably impressive manner of the state +his wife was in, and an urgent mandate sent that he should join her. +Oswald only waited his consent to forward him funds for the journey; +and poor Caroline hinted in a few private lines that he could choose a +steamer which would not make the port of London until after dark, and +could wear his spectacles in landing. All in vain. Mark Cray had +somehow contrived to acquire a wholesome terror of the British shores, +and to them he would not be enticed. + +But--has it ever struck you in your passage through life how +wonderfully things work round? Caroline Cray was dying; was wanting +her husband to be by her side and see the last of her, as it was only +right and natural she should; but he--looking at things as _he_ looked +at them--was debarred from going to her; it was--judging as he +judged--a simple impossibility that he should go. And this great +barrier was turning her mind to frenzy, was making a havoc of her +dying hours, and increasing her bodily sufferings in an alarming +degree. + +It did seem an impossibility. If Mark Cray refused to venture to his +own land so long as the Wheal Bang held its rod over him, it was next +door to certain that he could not come at all. The Wheal Bang's +shareholders would not relax their threats except on the payment of +certain claims, and who would be sufficiently philanthropic to pay +them? Nobody in the wide world. So there appeared to be no hope of +Mark's return; and the knowledge that there was not was entirely +taking from Caroline Cray that tranquillity of mind and body which +ought if possible to attend the last passage to the tomb: nay, it was +keeping her in a state of excitement that was pitiable for herself and +for all who beheld her. "If Mark could but come!" was the incessant +cry night and day. "I can't die unless Mark comes." + +You have heard that beautiful phrase, "Man's extremity is God's +opportunity," and though it may strike you as almost irreverent to +introduce any matter connected with Mark Cray as an exemplification of +it, what came to pass was surely very like a proof of the truth of +that phrase. Poor, erring, shallow-pated Mark! even he was remembered, +neglectful as he had been of the Great Remembrancer. + +While Caroline was lifting her hands to heaven with a vain cry in +which there was no trust; while it seemed to all that there was no +human feasibility of bringing Mark to England, that feat was +accomplished in the easiest and most unexpected manner. Is it too much +to say that a Higher Power was at work in answer to that poor woman's +despairing cry?--though the human agencies employed were of the least +exalted. + +Mr. Barker, who was doing something grand and good (good in _his_ +sense) in Paris, found it necessary for his own plans to pay a visit +to London. And when there, he, to use his own phrase got "dropped +upon;" in other words he fell into the still outstretched hands of the +Great Wheal Bang. That it was unexpected to himself there's no doubt; +for he was one of those men who believe implicitly in their own luck. +Once in the mesh, Barker resolved to make the best of it. He had done +nothing wrong, nothing that he could be punished for, and he +carelessly told them that his only motive in not surrendering +beforehand was the bother of having the accounts to go over. Perhaps +it really was so. + +Mr. Barker's usual luck attended him now. After he was arrested and +had been kept in durance for four days, the shareholders released him. +The very shareholders themselves released him; the wronged, imitated, +angry shareholders! Surely there was some charm in Barker's tongue! He +talked them over to the most miraculous degree; and they took him out +of prison, somebody going bail for the single debt on which he had +been taken. Now that the thing had come to a crisis Barker was as +eager as they were to get it to a settlement, and he went to work with +a will. A settlement, however, could not be come to without the +presence of Mark Cray; Mark and Barker were both made bankrupts, and +it was necessary that Mark should come over--or else never come over +any shore. So Barker wrote for him. + +We left Mark standing on the water's edge. He was all unconscious of +these doings at home which so nearly affected him; and he stood there +speculating as to what news the letter, refused to him in the morning, +contained. By some mischance Barker had neglected fully to prepay it; +he had put on a fourpenny stamp, but the letter turned out to be over +weight by a hair's breadth, and of course the Honfleur postal +authorities declined to give it up. + +"What he's doing in London puzzles me," cogitated Mark,--for he had +recognised the writing on the letter as Barker's. "He told me he +should not show himself there until the bother was over. What took him +there now, I wonder?" + +He stopped to single out a particularly shiny stone imbedded in the +mud, lifted it up with his toe, and kicked it into the water. A little +shrimping-boat was making towards him, for it was low tide, laden with +its spoils of the day. But it was not very near yet. + +"It's well that she should have gone over as she did," he resumed, his +thoughts reverting to his wife. "Heaven knows I should like to be with +her; but she has all she wants there, and here she'd have nothing. I +wish I could be with her! As to their saying--that Welch, or whatever +his name is: _I_ don't remember any great light of that name--that +she's incurable, I don't believe it. That old Blue said the same, or +wanted to say it--such jargon as the fellow talked to be sure!--but +Blue's nothing better than an old woman. By the way, I wonder how long +Blue intends to stop away! It's fine for these French fellows, taking +a holiday when they choose, and leaving their patients to a +_confrère_! I wish he had left _me_ the _confrère_ on the occasion, +t'would have been a few francs, at any rate, in my pocket. The French +wouldn't have had that, I suppose! their envious laws won't permit an +Englishman to practice on them. Oh, if some rich countryman of one's +own would but get ill!" + +Mark Cray strolled a few steps either way, and halted again in the +same place as before; he kicked six stones into the water, one after +the other, the seventh was an obstinate one, and would not come out. +Dull and dreary did the waves look that evening, under the grey and +leaden sky. That's speaking rather metaphorically, you know, for in +point of fact there are no _waves_ off Honfleur, except in the +stormiest of weather. + +That Mark Cray's condition was a forlorn one nobody can dispute. He +had no friends or acquaintance in the town; a latent, ever-present +consciousness of their straits, their position and its secrets, had +caused him and his wife to abstain from making any, And one or two +English residents who had shown themselves disposed to be friendly +were repulsed at the onset. Not a single person within reach could +Mark Cray apply to with the slightest justifiable plea of +acquaintanceship and say, Lend me sixteen sous; that I may pay for a +letter! Even Monsieur Le Bleu, as you have gathered from his +soliloquy, was away. But Mark wished much to get that letter, and he +was thinking how he could get it at this very moment as he looked out +across the water to the opposite coast, to the dark cloud that hung +over Harfleur. + +"'Twould be of no use going to the post-office unless I took the +money," he soliloquised. "They'd never let me have it without. Stingy +old frogs! What's sixteen sous that they can't trust a fellow? Help +_must_ come to me soon from some quarter or other; things can't stand +in their present plight. That very, letter may have money in it." + +Grumbling, however, would not bring him the letter, neither would +kicking pebbles into the manche: Mr. Mark Cray grew tired of his +pastime, and turned finally away from it. He sauntered through the +waste ground underneath the side windows of the hotel, his ears nearly +deafened by the noise of the rough boys who were quarrelling in groups +over their marbles, made a _détour_ across the bridge, glanced askance +at the slip of building grandly designated Bureau des Postes, and +turned off towards his home. It was a soft, calm evening in January, +gloomy enough overhead, but in the west the sky was clearing, and a +solitary star came peeping out, imbedded like a diamond in its grey +setting. To a mind less matter-of-fact than Mark Cray's that star +might have seemed as a ray of hope; an earnest that skies do not +remain gloomy for ever. + +Mark turned in at his little garden, and was about to ring gingerly at +the house door; as one, not upon the most cordial terms with a +frowning landlady, likes to ring; when a voice in the road greeted +him. + +"Bon soir!" + +"Ben soir," returned Mark, supposing it was but the courteous +salutation of some chance passer-by, and not troubling himself to turn +his head. + +"Et madame? quelles nouvelles avez-vous d'elle?" + +Mark wheeled round. It was Monsieur Le Bleu. + +Mark Cray extended his hand, and his face lighted up. In his +desolation even this French doctor was inexpressively welcome. + +"I didn't know you were back, Mr. Blue: savais pas que vous retournez, +messeu," added he, taking his customary plunge into the mysteries of +French. + +"I come from return this after-midday," said the surgeon. "I ask, +sare, if you have the news from madame?" + +"She's worse, and can't come back," said Mark. "Plus malade. Not to be +cured at all, they say, which I don't believe; pas croyable; messeu. I +don't believe the English médecin understands the case. Non! jamais." + +"Do I not say two--three--four months ago, me? I know she not curable +I feel sure what it was. You call it 'lump' and 'bouton'--bah! C'est +une tumeur fibreuse. I say to you, mon ami, you--tiens! c'est le +facteur!" + +For the facteur had come up at an irregular hour, and this it was +which had caused Monsieur Le Bleu's remark of surprise. The bureau des +postes had despatched him to offer the letter a second time to Mark. + +"Has monsieur got the money now?" he demanded in quick French, which +was a vast deal more intelligible to his French auditor than his +English one. "If not, our bureau won't be at the pains to offer the +letter a third time, and monsieur must get the letter from the bureau +himself if he wants it." + +What with the amount of French all at once and the embarrassment of the +situation, Mark Cray devoutly wished the postman underneath the waters +of the manche. That functionary, however, stood his ground where he +was, and apparently had no intention of leaving it. He bent over the +gate, the letter in his outstretched hand. Monsieur Le Bleu looked on +him with some interest, curious to know why the letter had been refused. +He inquired why of Mark, and Mark muttered some unintelligible words in +answer, speaking in French so excessively obscure that the surgeon +could not understand a syllable. + +So he turned for information to the facteur. "Did Monsieur dispute the +charge?" he asked. + +"Not at all," replied the man. "It was not a dispute as to charge. The +English Monsieur had no money. It was a double letter: sixteen sous." + +"Ah, no change," said Monsieur Le Bleu, with a delicacy that many +might have envied, as he turned his eyes from Mark Cray's downcast +face. "It's a general complaint. I never knew the small change so +scarce as it is: one can get nothing but gold. Hold, I'll take the +letter from you, facteur, and monsieur can repay me when he gets +change." + +The surgeon handed the sixteen sous to the postman, and gave the +letter to Mark. Mark spoke some obscure words about repaying him +on the morrow, and broke the seal. + +There was still light enough to see, though very obscurely, and Mark +Cray's dazed eyes fell on a bank-note for £5. The surgeon had bade him +goodnight, and was walking away with the postman: Mark Cray was only +half-conscious of their departure. Debt did not affect Mark as it does +those ultra-sensitive spirits who can but sink under its ills: +nevertheless, he did feel as if an overwhelming weight had been taken +from him. + +He rang at the bell, loudly now, feeling not so afraid of madame, +should she answer it. And he lighted his little lamp and read the +letter. Read it almost in disbelief, half doubting whether its good +news could indeed be true. For Mr. Barker had written all couleur de +rose: and a very deep rose, too. + +The Wheal Bang had come to its senses, and the worry was over. He, +Barker, was upon confidential terms with all the shareholders, shook +hands with them individually thrice a-day. There would be no fuss, no +bother; the affairs were being wound up in the most amicable manner, +and Mark had better come over without an hour's delay, and help. The +sooner they got it done, the sooner they should be free to turn their +attention to other matters, and he, Barker, had a glorious thing on +hand just now, safe to realise three thousand a-year. + +Such were the chief contents of the letter. Whether Barker believed in +them fully himself, or whether he had dashed on a little extra +colouring as to the simplification of affairs relative to the Great +Wheal Bang, cannot be told. It may be that he feared hesitation still +on the part of Mark Cray, and wished to get him at once over. In point +of fact, Mark's presence was absolutely necessary to the winding-up. + +Mark yielded without the slightest hesitation. If Mark Cray had +confidence in any one living being, it was Barker. He forthwith set +about the arrangements for his departure. It would take more than the +five-pound note to clear all that he owed in Honfleur; so he paid +madame, and one or two trifles that might have proved productive of a +little inconvenience at the time of starting, and got away quietly by +the boat to Havre, and thence to London. + +But, oh! the treachery of man! When the steamer reached the +metropolis, Mark Cray walked boldly ashore in the full glare of day, +never so much as shading his eyes from the sun with those charming +blue spectacles you have heard of, never shrinking from the gaze of +any mortal Londoner. Mark's confidence in the good-fellowship of the +Wheal Bang's shareholders was restored, his trust in Barker implicit: +if he felt a little timid on any score, it was connected with his +clothes, which certainly did not give out quite so elegant a gloss as +when they were spick and span new. Mark stood on the quay, after +landing, and looked round for Barker, whom he had expected would be +there to meet him. + +"Cab, sir?" + +"No," said Mark. + +"I'll wait here a minute or two," decided Mark to himself. "Barker's +sure to come. I wrote him word what time we might expect to be +in--though we are shamefully late. He can't have been and gone again!" + +Somebody came up and touched him on the shoulder. "Mr. Marcus Cray, I +believe?" + +Mark turned quickly. "Well?" said he to the intruder, a shabby-looking +man. + +"You are my prisoner, sir." + +"What?" cried Mark. + +"You are my prisoner, sir," repeated the stranger, making a sign to +another man to come closer. + +Mark howled and kicked, and for a moment actually fought with his +assailants. It was of course a senseless thing to do; but the shock +was so sudden. He had felt himself as secure, stepping on those +shores, as any grand foreign ambassador could have felt; and now to +find himself treacherously pounced upon in this way was beyond +everything bitter. No wonder that for the minute Mark was mad. + +"It can't be!" he shrieked; "you have no warrant for this. I am free +as air; they wrote me word I was." + +"Would you like a cab, sir?" inquired the official civilly, but not +deigning to answer. "You can have one if you like. Call one, Jim." + +A cab was called; the prisoner was helped into it and driven away--he +was too bewildered to know where. + +And that's how Mr. Mark Cray was welcomed to London. His rage was +great, his sense of injury dreadful. + +"Only let me come across Barker!" he foamed. "He shall suffer for +this. A man ought to be hung for such treachery." + +Mark Cray was, so far, mistaken. Barker was as innocent in the arrest +as he was. An accident had prevented his going down to meet the Havre +steamer. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. +THE GALLANT CAPTAIN HOME AGAIN. + + +Captain Davenal and his wife had been expected in England in +December--as you have heard; but the time went on, and February was at +its close before they arrived. They had been compelled to land at the +Cape in consequence of the illness of Mrs. Davenal, and had to remain +there some time. She had come into a very large fortune on the death +of her father; a considerable portion of it was settled upon her, and +the rest, a munificent sum, lapsed to her husband. So Captain Edward +Davenal was once more at his ease in this world of changes. + +Gay, handsome, free, sunny, it might have been thought that not an +hour's care had ever been upon him. No allusion to a certain dark +episode of the past escaped his lips when he and his sister met: there +were no signs that he so much as remembered such a trouble had ever +been. They were the present guests of Lady Reid, and would remain so +for a short time: It was Captain Davenal's intention to take a +furnished house for a term. His leave of absence was for two years; +but they did not care to be stationary in London the whole of the +period. Sara was charmed with his wife: a gentle, yielding, pretty +thing, looking so young as to be a girl still, and dividing her love +between her husband and infant son, a fine young gentleman born at the +Cape. A dread fear assailed Sara Davenal's heart as she looked upon +her; for that curious matter, touching the young woman who claimed to +be connected with Captain Davenal, had never been cleared up. Not +since the previous December had Sara once observed her approach the +house: but she had twice seen her in conversation with Neal at the end +of the street, the last time being the very day of the arrival of +Captain Davenal. It was altogether strange in Sara's opinion if the +young woman fancied she really had a legal claim of the nature she +mentioned on Captain Davenal, why had she not asserted it openly? If +she had no such claim, if she were an impostor, for what purpose had +she put the claim forth? There had been no demand for silence-money; +no attempt at extortion. However it might be, Sara's duty was plain, +now Captain Davenal had arrived--to acquaint him with the +circumstances. + +"I have some papers to give you," Sara whispered to her brother at +Lady Reid's, the night of his arrival there. + +"Papers? O yes, I suppose so. I shall be with you tomorrow." + +So he had not quite forgotten the affair. On the conclusion of the +matter with Mr. Alfred King Sara had sealed up certain papers and +receipts according to the written directions of Dr. Davenal; and these +she waited to put into her brother's hand. + +Mrs. Cray was with them still. She had taken to her bedroom entirely +now, and was gradually dying. Mark was with her. His difficulty with +the Great Wheal Bang's shareholders, and particularly with that one +cautious shareholder who had saluted Mark so unpolitely on his landing +from Havre, was virtually over: Mark enjoyed liberty of person again, +and things were in process of adjustment. Miss Davenal so far overcame +her repugnance to Mark as to allow him to be in her house, but it was +only in consideration of Caroline's dying state. They could do nothing +for her. They painted her clothes with iodine as she lay on the sofa +day after day before the chamber fire; it was the only thing that +brought any alleviation to the pain. + +It happened that Captain Davenal's first visit to the house was paid +at an opportune moment, in so far as that his interview with his +sister was free from fear of interruption. Miss Davenal had gone to +Lady Reid's, to see and welcome the travellers. Neal was in attendance +upon her, and Caroline was asleep. Mark Cray was in the City; he had +to go there frequently, in connection with the winding-up of the +company of the Great Wheal Bang. + +Captain Davenal came in, all joyous carelessness, telling Dorcas, who +admitted him, that she looked younger and handsomer than ever: and +poor Dorcas--who was not young at all, and had never been handsome in +her life--felt set up in vanity for a month to come. Sara was in the +drawing-room. It was the first time of their being alone, and Captain +Davenal held her before him and scanned her face. + +"What has made you get so thin?" + +"Am I thin?" she returned. + +"Dreadfully so. I have been telling Dorcas that she's handsomer than +ever, but I can't say the same of you. What is the cause, Sara?" + +"I think people do get thin in London," she replied with some evasion. +"But let me be rid of my charge, Edward." + +She went to her bedroom and brought down Dr. Davenal's desk. To +Edward's surprise he saw that it was bound round with a broad tape and +sealed. When Sara had placed the papers in the desk, received from Mr. +Alfred King, she had immediately sealed up the desk in this manner; a +precaution against its being opened. + +"What's that for?" exclaimed Captain Davenal, in his quick way, as he +recognised the desk and to whom it had belonged. "Did my father leave +it so?" + +Sara replied by telling him her suspicions of the desk's having been +opened; and that she had deemed it well to secure it against any +future inroads when once these papers were inclosed in it. + +"But who would touch the desk?" he asked. "For what purpose? Was young +Dick at home at the time?" + +"Dick was not at home. But Dick would not touch a desk. I would not +answer for Dick where a jam cupboard is concerned; but in anything of +consequence Dick's as honourable as the day. I suspected Neal, +Edward." + +"Neal!" + +"I did. I feel half-ashamed to say so. Do you remember telling me that +papa had a suspicion or doubt whether Neal had not visited some of his +letters?" + +"I remember it. I thought my father was wrong. Neal! Why, Sara, I'd as +soon suspect myself." + +"Well, I can only tell you the truth--that when I found cause to fear +this desk had been surreptitiously opened, my doubts turned to Neal. +You see, we have no one about us but him and Dorcas; and Dorcas I am +certain is trustworthy. But I admit that it was in consequence of what +you told me that I cast any doubt on Neal. However it may have been, I +deemed it well to secure the desk afterwards." + +She had been opening the desk as she spoke, and she took from it a +sealed packet and handed it to Captain Davenal. He opened it at once; +glanced over its contents, two or three papers, one by one, and +slightly drew in his lips. + +"What a shame!" he burst forth. + +She did not like to ask questions. She only looked at him. + +"That they should have _bled_ my father in this manner. Scoundrels! I +was away, therefore the game was in their own hands. Did you read +these papers, Sara?" + +"I was obliged to read them; to see that they tallied with copies that +papa had left. He left written instructions that I should do so." + +"To whom was this money paid?" + +"To Mr. Alfred King. Don't you see the receipts?" + +"I'd walk ten miles before breakfast any morning to see the fellow +hung. It's what he'll come to." + +"He told me that he and you had once been friends," she said in a +half-whisper. + +"And so we were. I believed in the fellow: I had no suspicion that he +was a villain, and I let him draw me into things from which I could +not extricate myself. I was a fool; and I had to pay for it." + +In Sara's inmost heart there arose unbidden a rebellious thought: that +others had had to pay for it; not Captain Davenal. + +"Did it affect my father's health, this business?" he inquired in a +low tone. + +"I fear it did," she replied, feeling that she could not avoid the +confession. "I am sure it affected him mentally. There was a great +change in him from that night." + +Captain Davenal folded the papers slowly, and pushed them into his +waistcoat pocket in his usual careless fashion. "What a fool I was!" +he muttered; "and what a rogue was that other!" + +"Are they safe there, Edward?" + +"Safe enough until I get home. They will be burnt then, except this +final receipt. Oh, if my father had but lived! I could at least have +repaid him his pecuniary lose. It took all he left behind him I +suppose, to satisfy it?" + +"Yes; all." + +"He told me he feared it would, or nearly all, in the letter he wrote +me when he was dying. Did things realise well?" + +"No, very badly. There was not enough to satisfy the claim by two +hundred pounds. Finally, Aunt Bettina advanced that." + +"Does she know of this?" he exclaimed, in a startled tone. + +"No, I kept it from her. It was difficult to do, but I contrived it." + +"You were a brave girl, my sister! I don't know who would have acted +as you have! All this trouble upon you, and never to worry me with it +in your letters!--never to ask me for money to help in the need!" + +"I thought you had none to give," she simply said. + +"True enough: I had none; but most sisters would have asked for it. I +shall repay at once Aunt Bettina; I shall repay, more gradually, to +you the half of what my father possessed before this trouble was +brought by me upon him. What do you say?--my wife's money? Tush, child! +Do you know the amount of the fortune we have come into? It will be +but a drop of water in the ocean of that amount. If I did not repay it +to you, she would." + +Sara looked up. + +"My wife knows all. I told her every word." + +"O Edward! Before your marriage!" + +"Not before. I suppose I ought to have done so, but it would have +taken a greater amount of moral courage than I possessed. I _couldn't_ +risk the losing her. I told her, partially, a short time after our +marriage: the full particulars I did not give her until last night." + +Last night! Sara was surprised. + +"She fell in love with you yesterday, Sara, and I thought well to let +her know what you really were--how true you had been to me." + +Sara was silent. It was in her nature to be true; and, as she +believed, it was in her nature to _be able_ to suffer. + +"There were times when I felt tempted to wish I had stayed at home and +battled with it," resumed Captain Davenal, after a pause. "But in that +case the scandal would probably have gone forth to the world. As it +was, no living being knew of it, save you and my father." + +"And Mr. Alfred King," she said. Another name also occurred to her, +but she did not mention it--that of Oswald Cray. + +"Alfred King? Sara, my dear, I don't care to enter into particulars +with you, but he was with me in the mess; more morally guilty, though +less legally so, than I was. _He_ has never told it, I can answer for, +for his own sake." + +"He always spoke to me of being only a sort of agent in the affair," +she said. "He intimated that the money was due to other parties." + +"Was due from himself, then. But it is over and done with: let it +drop. And now, Sara, you must allow me to ask you a personal question: +are you still engaged to Oswald Cray?" + +The demand was so unexpected, the subject so painful, that Sara felt +the life-blood leave her heart for her face. "I am not engaged to +Oswald Cray," she said in a low tone. "I--I cannot say that I ever was +engaged to him." + +A pause. "But--surely there was some attachment?" + +"A little: in the old days. It is very long ago now. How did you know +of it?" + +"Oswald Cray himself told me. It was the evening we went up to town +together after Caroline's wedding. He knew I was going out immediately +with the regiment, and he gave me a hint of how it was between you. +Only a hint; nothing more. I suppose--I suppose," more slowly added +Captain Davenal, "that this miserable business of mine broke it off. I +conclude that when Oswald found at my father's death that you had no +money he declined the compact. It's the way of the world." + +"Not so. No. I do not think money or the want of it, would have any +influence on Oswald Cray. In this case it certainly had not. We had +parted before papa died." + +"What then was the cause, Sara?" + +Should she tell him?--that it was his conduct broke it off? Better +not, perhaps; it could do no earthly good and would be only adding +pain to pain. + +"It is a thing of the past now, Edward; let it remain so. The cause +that parted us was one that could not be got over. We are friends +still, though we do not often meet. More than that we can never be." + +Captain Davenal was sorry to hear it. Thoughtless and imprudent as he +was by nature himself, he could not but be aware of the value of +Oswald Cray. Such a man would make the happiness--and guard it--of any +woman. + +"I think I had better mention one fact to you, Edward," she resumed, +after some moments given to the matter in her own mind. "You have been +assuming that no one was cognisant of that business of yours, except +papa, myself, and Mr. Alfred King; but----" + +"No other living soul was cognisant of it," interrupted Captain +Davenal. "My father's promptitude stopped it." + +"Oswald Cray knew of it." + +"Impossible!" he said, recovering from a pause of surprise. + +"He did indeed. I am not sure that he knew the exact particulars, but +he knew a very great deal. I believe--I fancy--that he had gathered +even a worse impression of it than the case actually warranted." + +Captain Davenal was incredulous. "From whom did he learn it?" + +"I cannot tell you. I have always feared that, as he knew it, it must +have been known to others." + +"I tell you, Sara, that beyond you and my father, and King, nobody in +the world knew of it. You are under some mistake. Oswald Cray could +not have known of it." + +"Nay then, Edward, as it has come so far I will tell you the truth. +Oswald Cray did know of it, and it was that, and nothing else, that +caused us to part. He--he thought, after that, that I was no fit wife +for him," she added in a low tone of pain. "And in truth I was not." + +A pause of distress. "Unfit as my sister?" + +"Yes. I suppose he feared that the crime might at any time be +disclosed to the world." + +"But _how_ could he have known it?" reiterated Captain Davenal, the +one surprise overwhelming every other emotion in his mind. "King I +_know_ would not tell; for his own sake he dared not: and we may be +very sure my father did not. He sacrificed himself to retain it a +secret." + +"That Oswald Cray knew of it I can assure you," she repeated. "He must +have known of it as soon--or almost as soon--as we did. From that +night that you came down to Hallingham in secret his behaviour +changed; and a little later, when a sort of explanation took place +between us, he spoke to me of what had come to his knowledge. I know +no more." + +"Well, it is beyond my comprehension," said Captain Davenal; "it +passes belief. Good Heavens! if Oswald Cray knew it, where's my +security that others do not? I must look into this." + +He was about to go off in impulsive haste, probably to seek Oswald +Cray, but Sara detained him. The uncertain doubt, the dread lying most +heavy on her heart, was not spoken yet. + +"Don't go, Edward. You will regard me as a bird of ill-omen, I fear, +but I have something to say to you on a subject as unpleasant as this, +though of a totally different nature." + +"No crime, I hope," he remarked in a joking tone, as he reseated +himself. It was utterly impossible for Edward Davenal to remain sober +and serious long. + +"It would be a crime--if it were true." + +"Well, say on, Sara: I am all attention. I have been guilty of a +thousand and one acts of folly in my life; never but of one crime. And +that I was drawn into." + +Captain Davenal did right to bid her "say on," for she seemed to have +no inclination to say anything; or else to be uncertain in what words +to clothe it. It was a decidedly unpleasant topic, and her colour went +and came. + +"I would not mention it, Edward, if I were not obliged; if I did not +fear consequences for you now you have come home," she begun. "It has +been weighing me down a long, long while, and I have had to bear it, +saying nothing----" + +"Has some private debt turned up against me?" he cried hastily. "I +thought I had not one out in the European world. I'll settle it +tomorrow, Sara, whatever it may be." + +"It is not debt at all. It is----" + +Sara stopped, partly with emotion, partly from her excessive +reluctance to approach the topic. Should it prove to be altogether +some mistake, a feeling of shame would rest upon her for having +whispered it. + +"It's what? Why don't you go on?" + +"I must go on if I am to tell you," she resumed, rallying her courage. +"Did you ever, before you went out--_marry_ anybody?" + +"Did I--what?" he returned, looking up with an exceedingly amused +expression on his face. + +"O Edward, you heard." + +"If I heard I did not understand. What do you mean? Why do you ask me +so foolish a question?" + +"You have not answered it," she continued in a low voice. + +Captain Davenal noted for the first time the changing hue of her face, +the troubled eye, the shrinking, timid manner. His mood changed to +seriousness. + +"Sara, what _do_ you mean? Did I marry anybody before I went out, you +ask? I neither married anybody, nor promised marriage. I--Halloa! you +don't mean that I am about to have a breach of promise brought against +me?" + +The notion was so amusing to Captain Davenal that he burst into a +laugh. Sara shook her head; and when his laugh had subsided she bent +her cheek upon her hand, and related to him, calmly and quietly, what +had occurred. The Captain was excessively amused: he could not be +brought to regard the tale in any other light than as a joke. + +"What do you say the lady's name was? Catherine what?" + +"Catherine Wentworth." + +"Catherine Wentworth?" he deliberated. "I never heard the name before +in my life; never knew any one bearing it. Why, Sara, you do not mean +to say this has seriously troubled you?" + +"It has very seriously troubled me. At times, what with one dread and +another, I seemed to have more upon me than I could bear. I had no one +to whom I could tell the trouble and the doubt: I dared not write it +to you, lest your wife should get hold of the letter." + +"And if she had? What then?" + +"If she had?" repeated Sara. "Do you forget the charge?" + +"It's too laughable for me to forget it. Rose would have laughed at it +with me. Sara, my dear, rely upon it this has arisen from some queer +mistake." + +His open countenance, the utter absence of all symptom of fear, the +cool manner in which he treated it, caused Sara to breathe a sigh of +relief. Half her doubts had vanished. + +"The strange thing is, why she should make the charge--why she should +say she was your wife. It was not done to extort money, for she has +never asked for a farthing. She said papa knew of the marriage." + +"Did she?" was the retort, delivered lightly. "Did she tell all this +to you?" + +"Not to me. I have never spoken to her; I told you so. What I have +learnt, I learnt through Neal." + +Captain Davenal paused in reflection. "Who knows but that gentleman +may be at the bottom of it?" he said at length. "If he opens desks--I +don't say he does, I say _if_ he does--he might get up this tale." + +"And his motive?" returned Sara, not agreeing with the proposition. + +"Nay, I don't know." + +"But Neal did not come forward with the tale. It was in consequence of +what I accidentally heard her say that I questioned Neal; and I must +do him the justice to declare that it was with very great reluctance +he would answer me. I heard Neal tell her, apparently in answer to a +question, that there was no doubt Captain Davenal was married; that he +had married a Miss Reid, an heiress. She replied that she would have +satisfaction, no matter what punishment it brought him (you) to." + +"And Neal afterwards assured you that she was Captain Davenal's wife?" + +"Neal assured me that _she said_ she was. Neal himself said he did not +believe her to be so; he thought there must be some mistake. She +declared she had been married to you nearly a twelvemonth before you +quitted Europe, and that Dr. Davenal knew of it." + +"The story-telling little hussy!" + +"Edward, I confess to you that I never so much as thought of its not +being true in that first moment! I think fear must have taken +possession of me and overpowered my judgment." + +"You should have written to me, Sara." + +"I have told you why I did not: lest the letter should fall into the +hands of your wife. And I believe that a dread of its truth made me +shrink from approaching it. That very same day I saw the young person +come out of the War Office. I did not know, and don't know, whether it +is the proper place to lodge complaints against officers, but I +supposed she had been to lodge one against you." + +"And you have seen her here since, at the house?" + +"Occasionally. She has never been troublesome. She has come, +apparently, to say a word or two to Neal. I have never questioned him +upon the visits: I have dreaded the subject too much. Only yesterday I +saw Neal speaking with her at the corner of the street." + +"Well, Sara, I shall sift this." + +She lifted her head. "Yes?" + +"I shall. It would _not_ have been pleasant had the rumour reached the +ears of my wife." + +He walked to the window and stood there a moment or two, a flush upon +his face, a frown upon his brow. When he turned round again he was +laughing. + +"Did Aunt Bett hear of this!" + +"O no." + +"_She'd_ have taken it for granted it was true. Had anybody told her +in the old days that I had married sixteen wives, and then set the +town on fire with a lighted torch, Aunt Bett would have believed it of +me. But, Sara, I am surprised at you." + +She glanced at him with a faint smile: not liking to say that the +dreadful business, the secret of that past night, which had no doubt +helped to send Dr. Davenal to his grave, had, at the time, somewhat +shaken her faith in her gallant brother. But for that terrible blow, +she had never given a moment's credit to this. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. +THE SERGEANT-MAJOR'S WIFE. + + +Captain Davenal had made light of the matter to his sister. Knowing +how unfounded was the charge, the whole thing struck him as being so +absurd, so improbable, that his mind could but receive it as a jest. +Nevertheless, upon reflection, he saw that it might prove a subject of +serious annoyance: such charges, especially if maliciously made and +well planned, sometimes cost a world of trouble in their refutation. + +He had said it was his intention to sift it. Sara suggested that he +should do what she had shrunk from doing--question Neal. Captain +Davenal hesitated. If there were any foundation for his suspicion that +Mr. Neal might have had something to do with making the charge, it +would not perhaps be policy to speak to that gentleman in the present +stage of the affair. Better try by some other means to find out who +the young woman was, and all about her. It is true that without the +help of Neal Captain Davenal did not see his way clear to accomplish +this: to seek for an unknown young woman in London, one to whom he had +no clue, was something equivalent to that traditional search, the +hunting for a needle in a bottle of hay. + +"I wonder if Dorcas could tell us anything about her?" he exclaimed, +ringing the bell upon impulse, as he did most things. And when Dorcas +appeared in answer to it, he plunged into a sea of questions that had +only the effect of bewildering her. + +"You must know her, Dorcas," interposed Sara. "It is a young woman, +rather nice-looking, who has come here occasionally to see Neal. She +generally wears large shawls that trail on the ground. Captain Davenal +has a reason for wishing to know who she is." + +"You must mean Mrs. Wentworth, Miss Sara." + +"Mrs. Wentworth! Is that her name?" repeated Sara, feeling a sort of +relief that the servant had not said Mrs. Davenal. + +"That's her name, Miss. She is an officer's wife, and is in some +trouble about him. I believe Neal is her uncle." + +Sara looked up. "Neal told my aunt that the young person was not his +niece." + +"Well, I don't know," said Dorcas; "I think she is his niece: at any +rate, I have heard her call him uncle. I heard her call him wide no +longer ago than last night, Miss Sara." + +"Where was that?" interposed Captain Davenal. + +"It was here, sir. She called to see Neal. I was passing downstairs at +the time from Mrs. Cray's room, and it seemed to me that there was +some dispute occurring between them. She asked Neal to tell her where +Captain Davenal was staying, and Neal refused. He said she should not +go troubling Captain Davenal." + +A pause from all. Sara's face grew troubled again. + +"What did she want with me?" asked the captain. + +"I don't know, sir," replied Dorcas. "I only heard that much in +passing. I was carrying Mrs. Cray's tea-tray down." + +"Do you know where she lives, this Mrs. Wentworth?" + +"Not at all, sir. I have never known that." + +"Edward, she is evidently looking out for you!" exclaimed Sara, as +Dorcas retired. + +"I hope and trust she is, and that she'll speedily find me," was the +retort of Captain Davenal. "Nothing should I like better than to find +her. I have a great mind to ask Neal openly what it all is, and insist +upon an answer." + +There was no opportunity for further conversation then. Mark Cray came +in. Captain Davenal did not think him improved in anyway. There was +less of openness in his manner than formerly, and he rather appeared +to evade Captain Davenal, quitting his presence as soon as he +conveniently could. The next to enter was Miss Bettina. It was the +first time she had met her nephew, and she was disposed to be cordial. +Miss Bettina had gone forth that morning to visit his young wife, +entertaining a secret prejudice against her, and she returned home +liking her. The little baby had been named Richard, too, and that +gratified her. + +A short while later, and Captain Davenal and his sister stood in the +presence of this very young woman, Catherine Wentworth. In a room in +Lady Reid's house, when they reached it--for Sara walked home with +him--she was waiting. She had gone there inquiring for Captain +Davenal, and upon being told Captain Davenal was out, she asked to be +allowed to wait for him. + +The sequel of this episode is so very matter-of-fact, so devoid of +romance, that some of you, my readers, may think it might have been as +well never to have introduced it. But in that case what would become +of the closing history of Neal? It was quite necessary, if that +gentleman was to have a faithful biographer. + +Sara Davenal sat, the white strings of her bonnet untied, wiping the +drops of moisture from her relieved brow. So intense was the relief +that when the first few moments of thankfulness were past, she looked +back with a feeling of anger that her mind's peace, for long long +months, should have been disturbed so unnecessarily. + +They were talking fast, this young woman and Captain Davenal. She +_had_ gone to Miss Davenal's house over and over again to inquire +after him; she had handed Neal more than one letter to forward to him +to India; she had been at the house the previous night, demanding to +know where the captain was staying, and saying that she _would_ see +him; and she had this morning found out his address at Lady Reid's, +and had waited until he came in. + +But all for an innocent and legitimate purpose. Mrs. Wentworth--and +she was Mrs. Wentworth--had never seen Captain Davenal in her life +before; had never pretended that she had; she was only seeking him now +to get from him some information of her real husband, Sergeant-Major +Wentworth, of Captain Davenal's regiment. + +One train of thought leads to another. Captain Davenal remembered now +to have heard that the sergeant-major, a very respectable man, had +voluntarily separated himself from his wife, and left her behind him +in England when their regiment sailed for India, in consequence of +some misconduct on her part. He stood there face to face with the +young woman, trying to reconcile this plain statement of facts with +the account of past assertions related to him by Sara. + +"You are Sergeant-Major Wentworth's wife, you say," observed Captain +Davenal, regarding her narrowly, watching every word that fell from +her lips. If there had been any conspiracy between her and Neal to +undermine his sister's peace, he felt that he should like to punish +both of them. Sara had had enough of real troubles to bear, without +having false ones brought upon her. + +"Yes, I am," she replied. She had a wonderfully pretty face, now that +it could be seen without her veil, and her manners were pleasing--nay, +ladylike. But still there was the look of general untidiness about her +that Sara had noticed before, though she did not wear a shawl today, +but a black cloth mantle, cut in the mode. + +"May I ask if you ever allowed it to be understood that you were +anybody else's wife?" rejoined Captain Davenal, putting the question +in the most convenient form he could, and in a half-jesting tone. + +"Anybody else's wife?" she repeated, as if not understanding. + +"Ay; mine, for instance?" + +"Why, of course I never did. I don't know what you mean, sir." + +"Does Neal know you are Sergeant-Major Wentworth's wife?" + +"O dear, yes. I have done nothing a long while but beseech of him to +write to you, sir, and ask if you would speak in my behalf to +Wentworth, and make him allow me more, or else let me go out to him in +India." + +Sara interposed. It might not be wise in her, but she could not help +herself: "I once accidentally heard a conversation of yours with Neal. +You were speaking of this gentleman, Captain Davenal; it was the very +day that we had heard news of his marriage with Miss Reid. I remember +you said something to the effect that you would have satisfaction, +cost what punishment it would to him. Did you allude to your husband?" + +"Yes, I did," the girl replied. "And I hope he will be punished yet. I +remember the time too. I had had a letter that morning from one of the +women who went with the regiment, a soldier's wife. She spoke of my +husband in it in a way that vexed me; and she said, amidst other news, +that their Captain--Captain Davenal--had just got married. The letter +put me up to think that perhaps Captain Davenal could do some good for +me with my husband, and I came off at once to Neal and asked him. Neal +said he should not trouble Captain Davenal with anything of the sort; +and the answer made me angry, and I reminded Mr. Neal that I could say +one or two things about him that might not be pleasant if I chose to +be ill-natured; and at last he promised to send a letter for me to +Captain Davenal, enclosed in one from himself, if I liked to write and +state the case. I remember quite well saying that I would have +satisfaction somehow, no matter what the punishment to Wentworth. Did +my letters ever reach you, sir? I wrote two or three." + +"Never." + +"Like enough Neal never sent them," she exclaimed with an angry toss. +"He said he did; and I have been always asking him whether he received +no answer for me." + +"Is Neal your uncle, Mrs. Wentworth?" + +"I call him so sometimes, sir, when I want to be pleasant with him, +but in point of fact he is no real relation. My step-mother is his +sister; and that makes him a sort of uncle-in-law." + +"And you have not--excuse my pressing the question, Mrs. Wentworth, +but I have a reason for it--given Neal reason to suppose that you were +ever married to any one except Sergeant-Major Wentworth?" resumed +Captain Davenal. + +"Never in my life, sir," she replied, and her accent of truth was +unmistakable. "Say to Neal that I was married to anybody else! What +for? It would be childish to say it; he knows quite well that I was +married to Serjeant Wentworth. He was not serjeant-major then." + +The falsehood then had been Neal's! Captain Davenal glanced at Sara. +But the sergeant's wife spoke again. + +"Could you interest yourself for me with Wentworth, sir?" + +"Ah, I don't know. It is a ticklish thing, you see, to interfere +between man and wife," added the captain, a jesting smile upon his +lips. "What is your grievance against Wentworth?" + +Mrs. Wentworth entered on her grievances; a whole catalogue. She +required that her husband should send for her to be with him in India, +or else that he should make her a better allowance, so that she could +live "as a lady." She knew he got plenty of prize-money she said, for +she had been told so; and she finished up with stating that she had +been to the War Office, and to half-a-dozen other offices to complain +of him, and could get no redress. + +"Well," said Captain Davenal, "I'll tell you what I'll do: will write +to your husband--a man for whom I have great respect,--and inquire his +version of the quarrel between you. We should always hear both sides +of a question, you know, Mrs. Wentworth. When I get his answer, you +shall hear from me. To be candid with you, I must say that I don't +think Wentworth is one to allow of much interference. He has good +judgment, and he likes to exercise it. But I will write to him." + +"And you'll promise to see me again, sir, in spite of Neal? What his +objection was, I don't know, but he did all he could to prevent my +seeing you." + +"I don't think you need fear Neal's prevention for the future in +regard to seeing me," said Captain Davenal, in a significant tone, as +he civilly bowed out Mrs. Wentworth. + +"Well, Sara, and what do you think of Neal now?" + +"I can't understand it; I can't understand why he should have said it, +or what his motive was," slowly replied Sara. "Oh, if he only knew the +cruel days and nights it caused me to pass. Shall you tell Aunt +Bettina of Neal's falsity?" + +"Tell her!" repeated Captain Davenal. "Do you think I can allow her +and you to be any longer under the same roof with a villain such as +Neal?" + + + + +CHAPTER LX. +LIGHT. + + +Not to Miss Bettina, however, did Captain Davenal at once take +his way, but to Parliament Street. The revelation of Sara that +morning--that the one dark episode in his own past history had been +known to Oswald Cray--was troubling Edward Davenal's mind far more +than any sense of the inconvenience wrought by Mr. Neal. + +They stood together in Oswald's sitting-room, the doors closed. A few +words of greeting on both sides, and then the captain plunged +wholesale, without any ceremony or preparation, into the object which +had brought him. + +"I have come to ask you a question," he began, dropping his voice to a +confidential whisper. "How did you become acquainted with that +miserable business of mine?" + +"With what miserable business?" returned Oswald, in surprise. + +"Don't you recall what I mean? That affair that swamped me. Or, I'm +sure I may better say, swamped my father. The--the--those bills, you +know." + +Oswald did not know in the least. And said so. + +"Hang it, Cray," exclaimed the captain, "why force a man to speak out? +Those forged bills that I put into circulation, and couldn't get back +again." + +"I protest I do not know what you are talking of," returned Oswald. "I +don't understand what it is you would ask me." + +"I only ask how you became acquainted with the affair." + +"I never was acquainted with the affair: with any affair such as you +allude to," persisted Oswald. "I am not acquainted with it now." + +"Do you mean to say that you did not become cognisant of that dreadful +trouble I got into before leaving England?--The signing of those +bills?" + +"I never heard of it in my life. I never heard, or knew, that you were +in any trouble whatever." + +Captain Davenal sat staring at Oswald. How reconcile this denial with +Sara's positive assurance of an hour ago? "You are telling me truth?" +he cried, with a perplexed air. + +"Entire truth," said Oswald. "Why should I not?" + +"What then could Sara mean?" debated Captain Davenal aloud. "She tells +me that you did know of it." + +"Sara tells you so?" + +"She does. She says that--I don't see that I need scruple to +speak," broke off Captain Davenal, "it's all over and done with, I +suppose--Sara says it was your knowledge of the affair that caused the +breaking off of the engagement between yourself and her." + +Oswald Cray was silent. A doubt crossed him of whether the gallant +captain could have received some sabre-cut or sunstroke in India which +had affected his brain. Captain Davenal noted his puzzled look, and +strove to be more explanatory. + +"When you and I were returning to town from Hallingham the night of +Caroline's wedding, you hinted that there existed an attachment or +engagement between you and Sara. For the first time I spoke of this +to Sara this morning. She admitted that something of the kind had +existed, but said it was over; and I saw that the subject was +painful--one she wished to avoid. So I dropped it. Afterwards, in +speaking of this worse business of mine, I observed that it had been +known to three people only: my father, Alfred King, and Sara; but Sara +interrupted me, saying that it was known to Oswald Cray. I disputed +the fact; I said it _could not_ have been known to you, but she +persisted in her assertion, and finally confessed that it was in +consequence of its coming to your knowledge that you broke off the +engagement to her, deeming she was not worthy, as my sister, to become +your wife. Pardon me yet a moment while I state that I am not here to +question the decision; I don't wish to enter upon it at all, except to +say that many would have done as you did, after what _I_, her brother, +had been guilty of. All _that_ is apart from the business, and I am +only telling you how it came out. Sara assures me that it was the sole +cause of breaking off the engagement, and that you must have known of +it almost as soon as--as my father knew. Now, I want you to tell me, +Mr. Oswald Cray, how and whence that affair came to your knowledge. +Have I made myself clear?" + +"Perfectly clear, so far as explanation goes; but it is nothing but +obscurity to me, for all that. In the first place, allow me to repeat +to you that I never knew before now that you were in any trouble +whatever. This is my first intimation of it." + +"And was it not that knowledge that caused you and Sara to part?" + +"It was not. How could it have been when I assure you I did not +possess the knowledge? A--a great trouble, of which I would prefer not +to speak, did lead to the parting, but it was entirely unconnected +with you." + +"Well, this is Greek," returned Captain Davenal. "There was no other +trouble connected with the family, except mine. I suppose you mean +that it was connected with them?" + +"Yes." + +"With which of them? There was no scapegoat in it except me." + +"It was connected with Dr. Davenal," said Oswald reluctantly. "I +cannot say more." + +"With my father? Nonsense, if you mean anything wrong. A more upright +man never breathed. Fancy him sending forth bad bills!" + +"I could not fancy him doing so," replied Oswald. "The matter had +nothing to do with money." + +"I'll lay all I am worth it had to do with me, with my business," +impulsively spoke Captain Davenal. "I will tell you how it was----" + +"Nay, it is not worth while," was Oswald Cray's interruption, as he +thought how very different a thing was Lady Oswald's unhappy death +from the topics under discussion. "Believe me, you had not, and could +not have had, anything to do with the real question." + +"But I'll tell you, now I have begun. I and my choice friend, +as I thought him then,"--Captain Davenal spoke with scornful +bitterness,--"got into an awful mess together, and could not get out +of it. No matter whether it was gambling or horse-racing, or what not; +money we were compelled to have. King assured me on his honour that in +three weeks' time he should be in the possession of several thousand +pounds, if we could only stave off exposure until then, and in an evil +hour I yielded to his persuasion and wrote my father's name. The +suggestion was King's, the persuasion was King's, the full assurance +that all would be well was King's. I don't say this in extenuation of +myself; the guilt and madness of yielding were all mine. Well, the +days went on, and when the time came, and the thing was on the point +of exploding, King had not got the thousands he had counted on: +moreover, I found that his expectation of getting them had been from +the first very vague indeed, and we had a desperate quarrel. The sneak +turned round; threatened me with exposure, with ruin, and I had to go +down and confess the truth to my father. He saved me--saved me at the +sacrifice of all he had, and, I fear, of his life." + +There was a pause. Oswald had grown strangely interested. Captain +Davenal continued. + +"I shall never forget the effect it had upon him--never, never. I +speak only of the hour of the communication; I never saw him after +that. I told him there might be trouble with these bills, to get them +at all; that even with the money in hand to redeem them I was not sure +the consequences could be averted from me. I saw the change pass over +his face; the grey, scared look; and it did not quit it again." + +"Where did you see him?" + +"At Hallingham. I went down at some peril, after leave had been +refused me at headquarters, getting to Hallingham about eleven o'clock +on a Sunday night. I stayed an hour or so with my father in his study, +and then went back to the station again, for I had to be at my post on +duty the following morning. No one at home knew of my visit. I tapped +at my father's study window and he let me in. Before I left, I asked +to see Sara. I knew quite well, though they did not, that I should not +go down again, and I did not care to leave for years without saying a +word to her, so my father fetched her down from her room. We did not +tell her the particulars, only that I had been doing something wrong, +was in danger, and that my visit to Hallingham must be kept quiet. My +poor father! I remember his asking in a burst of feeling what he had +done that all this trouble should fall upon him. Another great trouble +had befallen him that night in the death of Lady Oswald." + +"Yes?" said Oswald with a calm manner but a beating heart. His +thoughts were in that long past night, and Neal's description of it. + +"It was very dreadful," resumed Captain Davenal, alluding to the +matter of Lady Oswald. "My father was sadly cut up. Mark Cray had +killed her through administering the chloroform." + +Oswald felt his heart stand still, his face flush with a burning heat. +He moved nearer to Captain Davenal: but his voice was quiet still. + +"Did you say _Mark_ administered the chloroform?" + +"It was Mark. Yes. My father said he had especially forbidden Mark +Cray to give her chloroform. Mark in the course of the day had +proposed doing it, but the doctor warned him that chloroform would not +do for Lady Oswald. When all was ready, he (my father) had to carry +Lady Oswald's maid from the chamber in a fainting-fit, and when he got +back to it he found Mark had administered the chloroform, which he had +taken with him to the house surreptitiously, and was commencing the +operation. The doctor said he could not make out Mark Cray that night. +He was beginning the operation in so unskilful, so unsurgeon-like a +manner, that my father had to push him away as he would have pushed a +child, and perform it himself. But they could not recover Lady +Oswald." + +Oswald made no remark. He felt as one stunned. + +"It struck me as being a most shocking thing," continued Captain +Davenal. "I remarked to my father that it seemed like murder, and he +said Yes, he supposed the world would call it such." + +"But why did not Dr. Davenal declare the truth--that it was Mark who +had given the chloroform?" interrupted Oswald. "Why suffer himself to +rest under the imputation?" + +"What imputation? There was no imputation to lie under. All the world +supposed the chloroform had been rightly and properly administered, +according to the best judgment of both of them." + +True; true. Oswald Cray had been speaking in accordance with his own +private knowledge, not with publicly-known facts. + +"My father kept the secret for Mark Cray's sake. If it went forth to +the world, he said it would blight Mark's professional career for +life. He told me the facts, but he intended to keep them from all +others, and he warned me not to divulge them. I never did. I am not +sure that I should feel justified in telling even you now, but that +Mark is no longer in his profession. My poor father made the remark +that they were two heavy secrets for his breast to keep, mine and Mark +Cray's." + +The murmur of the words fell upon Oswald's ear, but he was as one who +heard them not. A weighty amount of self-reproach was rising up within +him. Captain Davenal talked on, and then hastened away, for he had Mr. +Neal to settle with yet, leaving Oswald alone. + +The scales, so long obscuring Oswald Cray's eyes, had fallen from +them, and he saw the past in its true colours. The one wondering +question that seemed to press upon him now was, how he could ever have +doubted Dr. Davenal. Above his own self-reproach; above the bitter +feeling of repentance for the wrong he had dealt out to her whom he +best loved on earth; above his regrets for the late years wasted in a +miserable illusion; was his remorse for having so misjudged that good +man, misjudged him even to his grave. He saw it all now: how, when he +questioned Dr. Davenal about his motives for administering the fatal +medicine, he had taken the odium upon himself for Mark's sake: not +even to him, his brother, would he, in his loving-kindness, betray +Mark. + +Never had the pride, the self-esteem, of Oswald Cray received a +blow like unto this. He had plumed himself on his superiority; he had +cast off Dr. Davenal as one unworthy of him; he had dared, in his +self-sufficiency, to cast off Sara. Her father was a man of suspicion, +and therefore she was no fit mate for him! Whereas, Oswald now learnt +that it was his own brother who was the offender: Dr. Davenal and his +daughter were the victims. The full value, the Christian conduct of +that good man was patent to him now; the patient endurance of Sara +became clear to him. + +He lifted his hat and wiped the moisture from his brow, as he walked +through the streets, all these considerations doing battle in his +brain. The winter's day was cold, but Oswald's brow was hot; hot with +inward fever. He was on his way to Miss Davenal's, to seek a +conference with his half-brother: there were one or two questions he +would put to him. He had taken his hat and come out the moment Captain +Davenal left him: business and all else gave way before this. + + + + +CHAPTER LXI. +THE BARGAIN SEALED. + + +Mark Cray sat in his wife's sick-room. Mark Cray found it (between +ourselves) rather tiresome to sit in his wife's sick-room: and Mark +was very apt to doze asleep at his post. Mark was asleep now. He was +dreaming a charming dream of greatness--in which some grand scheme of +Barker's had succeeded, and he and that gentleman were sailing about +the atmosphere in a triumphal car of gold, looking down with +complacency on the poor toiling mortals in the world below--when +Dorcas came in with a whisper, and aroused him. Mr. Oswald Cray was in +the dining-parlour waiting to see him, she said: and Mark, after a +stare at the girl, descended, pushing back his clustering hair, which +had disarranged itself in his sleep. + +Oswald was standing near the fire. He turned to Mark and spoke in a +quiet tone. + +"I have a question to ask you, Mark. It relates to the past. Who----" + +"Oh, never mind the past," interrupted Mark, with a half-testy, +half-careless sort of manner. "I'm sure there's enough worry in the +present without going back to that of the past. I wish that horrid +mine had been sunk a thousand fathoms deep before I had had anything +to do with it. I daresay I shall pay you back some time!" + +"It is not about the mine I wish to speak to you, or of payment +either," calmly rejoined Oswald. "But, Mark, I want the truth from +you--the truth, mind--upon another subject. It was you, was it not, +who gave the chloroform to Lady Oswald?" + +Mark made no reply, either truthful or otherwise. The question was so +exceedingly unlike any he had expected that he only stared. + +"It was supposed, I know, at the time to have been administered by Dr. +Davenal. But I have reason to believe that it was administered by +yourself during his temporary absence from the chamber, and against +his sanction. Was it so, Mark?" + +"I suppose you heard this from the doctor himself at the time?" was +Mark Cray's remark. "I remember you were worriting over it." + +"I beg you to answer my question, Mark. What you say shall go no +further." + +"Well, yes, it was so," said Mark; "though I'm sure I can't think why +you want to bring up the thing now. I did give her the chloroform, but +I gave it for the best. As I was to perform the operation I thought I +had a right to exercise my own judgment, which was opposed to the +doctor's. I was very sorry for the result, but I did it for the best." + +"I wish you had told me the truth at the time, Mark. You suffered me +to believe that the chloroform was given by Dr. Davenal." + +"And what difference did it make to you which of us gave it?" was Mark +Cray's reply, not an unnatural one. "You may guess that it was a thing +I did not care to speak of. So long as it was assumed we gave the +chloroform conjointly, in accordance with ordinary practice and our +best judgment, nobody could say a word; but if it had been disclosed +that I gave it by myself, on my own responsibility and against the +doctor's opinion, I should have had the whole town carping at me." + +Oswald had nothing further to say. He could not tell the bitter +truth--that this miserable misapprehension had wrecked his hopes of +happiness, had been making an ice-bolt of his heart in the intervening +years. + +Mark escaped, and returned to his wife's room, there to endeavour to +drop into his golden dreams again, from which he seemed to have been +aroused for no earthly use whatever. And Oswald stayed on in the hope +of seeing Sara. + +Not only in the dining-parlour of Miss Davenal's house was there a +conference being held at that hour, but also in the drawing-room +above: and but for the all-absorbing nature of his own thoughts Oswald +Cray had not failed to hear the sounds. Captain Davenal had got Neal +there, before his aunt. And Mr. Neal was slipping out of all +accusations as smoothly as an eel. + +The group was noticeable. Miss Davenal in her chair, upright and +angry, only partially understanding the cause of the commotion; +Captain Davenal standing, open and impetuous, talking very fast; Neal +full of repose and self-possession, all his wits in full play; and +Sara sitting apart in silence, her cheek bent upon her hand. Captain +Davenal charged Neal with treachery, general and particular. Neal had +his plausible answer ready to meet it all. + +The interview was drawing to an end, and little satisfaction had been +derived from it. Poor Miss Davenal's ears were in a mazed condition: +desks, letters, inventions to Sara touching a Mrs. Wentworth, and a +hundred other charges, jumbling hopelessly upon them, nothing being +clear. Neal denied everything. + +"You did tell Miss Sara Davenal that the young woman was my wife," +cried Captain Davenal, indignantly. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said Neal, respectfully. "I said I felt +quite sure she was not; that there must be some mistake. Miss Sara +perhaps will remember that such was my opinion." + +"At any rate, you said the young woman made the charge," persisted +Captain Davenal, irritated at the assured coolness. + +"I did, sir. I understood the young woman to make it. She----" + +"But she never did make it," interrupted Captain Davenal. + +Neal shrugged his shoulders in submissive superciliousness, meant for +Mrs. Wentworth. "It may suit the young woman's purpose to say so now, +sir. I fear she is not very strict in her adherence to truth; but she +certainly did make it at the time. However, sir, I am quite willing to +take the blame upon myself, to allow that I misunderstood her." + +"Why, you have not the face to tell me that you have gone on believing +it?" + +"O dear no, sir. I was very soon afterwards convinced that the thing +was a mistake altogether." + +"And pray, why had you not the honesty to say so to Miss Sara +Davenal?" + +"I'm sure I should have been happy to say so, sir, had I possessed the +least idea that it would have been welcome. But after the first blush, +the matter appeared to be so very absurd that I never supposed Miss +Sara would give to it a second thought. If my silence has caused any +uneasiness, I can only say how deeply I regret it." + +"Who _is_ the young woman?" helplessly cried Miss Bettina. "And pray, +Neal, how came it, if you had anything of the sort to say, that you +did not say it to me? I am the proper person to hear these things; a +young lady is not." + +Neal advanced a step to his mistress and spoke in his low clear tone. +"It was not my intention to speak to Miss Sara Davenal at all, ma'am, +or to you either; I should not have thought of doing such a thing; but +I could not help myself when Miss Sara questioned me upon the point." + +All that was reasonable and feasible, and Miss Davenal nodded her head +in approbation; but her nephew the captain got in a passion, and +insisted that he should be discharged there and then. + +Neal was quite ready to go, he said, civilly courteous, if his +mistress saw fit to inflict upon him so severe a step. He was +unconscious of having done anything to merit it. Perhaps she would be +pleased to particularise his offence. + +"He is a villain, aunt," broke forth the captain intemperately, before +Miss Bettina could speak. "I believe he has been one ever since my +father took him into the house. He has opened letters and unlocked +desks, and altogether played the part of deceit. He _shall_ go." + +Neal interrupted, humbly begging the captain's pardon. He could most +truthfully assure his mistress that he had done nothing of the sort; +he had never opened a letter in the house, except his own; had never +touched a desk, but to dust it. If Captain Davenal could mention any +other distinct charge, he should be glad, as it would allow him an +opportunity of refutation. No. His conscience acquitted him. He should +quit the house, if he did have to quit it, with a clear character, and +he thought his mistress would acknowledge that he deserved one. In the +one little point concerning Mrs. Wentworth he might have been in +error: first, in too readily giving ear to what she said; next, in not +having spoken to Miss Sara to set the doubt at rest in her mind. They +were mistakes certainly, and he greatly regretted them. + +"Neal," said the captain, too hot-headed to maintain his dignity, "I'd +a hundred times rather be an open villain than a sneak. Why, you know +you have been nothing but a spy from the very moment you entered the +house. Aunt Bettina, listen! Before the regiment went away I got into +a little trouble, upon which I found it necessary to consult my +father, and I went----" + +"A little what?" asked Miss Bettina. + +"Trouble. A little difficulty." + +"Oh, ah, yes," said Miss Bettina. "You were always getting into it." + +"Not such as that," thought the captain. "Well, I had to go down to +Hallingham," he continued aloud, as he bent to her. "I did not care +that any of you should know it, and I got down one night unexpected by +my father. I was with him in his study for some time, and went back so +as to be at duty the next morning. Would you believe"--pointing his +finger at Neal--"that yon honest fellow was a spy upon the interview?" + +Mr. Neal was a little taken by surprise, and Sara looked up +astonished. But the man was not one to lose his impassability. + +"He was at the window, looking and listening: not, I believe, that he +could see and hear very much. And he afterwards went abroad and told +of the interview: told that his master had a secret visitor at night. +You little thought, Mr. Neal, that the visitor was myself, or that I +should ever bring it home to you." + +Neal, all unconscious innocence, gazed straight forward into Captain +Davenal's face. "I have not the least idea what it is that you are +speaking of, sir. My recollection does not serve me upon the point." + +"O yes, it does," said Captain Davenal. "A subtle nature such as yours +cannot forget so easily. Happily he to whom you carried the tale of +the evening was a trustworthy man: he kept his own counsel, and told +you Dr. Davenal's visitors were no business of his or of yours. I +speak of Mr. Oswald Cray." + +"Mr. Oswald Cray!" repeated Neal, plunging into reflection. "On my +honour, sir, I have not the least idea of what it is you mean. A +visitor at night to my late master in his study? Stay, I do remember +something of it. I--yes--I was outside, taking a mouthful of fresh air +preparatory to retiring to rest, and I saw some one--a stranger I took +him to be--come stealthily in at the gate, and he was afterwards shut +in with my master. I'm sure sir, I beg your pardon, even at this +distance of time, if I was mistaken. I feared he might be a suspicious +character, and I think I did go to the window, anxious for my master's +personal safety. I could not have supposed it was you, sir." + +Was it possible to take Neal at a disadvantage? It did not seem so. + +"And it was anxiety for your master's personal safety that caused you +afterwards to recount this to Mr. Oswald Cray? Eh?" + +"Does Mr. Oswald Cray say I recounted it to him, sir?" inquired Neal, +probably not feeling sure of his ground just here. + +"That's my business," said Captain Davenal, while Sara looked round at +Neal. "You _did_ recount it to him." + +"All I can say, sir, is, that if I did, I must have had some good +motive in it. I cannot charge my memory after this lapse of time. Were +I in any anxiety touching my master, Mr. Oswald Cray was probably the +gentleman I should carry it to, seeing he was a friend of the family. +I have--I think--some faint remembrance that I did speak to Mr. Oswald +Cray of that mysterious visitor," slowly added Neal, looking fixedly +up in the air, as if he were tying to descry the sun through a fog. +"It's very likely that I did, sir, not being at ease myself upon the +point." + +Captain Davenal was losing patience. It seemed impossible to bring +anything home to Neal with any sort of satisfaction. At the close of +the captain's interview with Oswald Cray, the latter had mentioned-- +but not in any ill-feeling to Neal--that that functionary had spoken +to him of the night interview at Dr. Davenal's; had said he was +outside the window at the time. Oswald had not said more; he deemed it +well not to do so; but Captain Davenal had become at once convinced +that it was but one of Neal's prying tricks. He turned to Miss +Davenal. + +"Aunt Bettina, this is waste of time. In nearly the last interview I +ever had with my father he told me he had doubts of Neal. He feared +the man was carrying on a game of deceit. I _know_ he has been doing +it all along. Will you discharge him?" + +"I can't understand it at all," returned Miss Bettina. + +"_I_'ll enlighten you one of these days, when you are not very deaf, +and we can have a quiet half-hour together. Sara, what do you say?" + +Sara rose from her seat, her cheek flushing, her voice firm. "Neal +must leave, Aunt Bettina," she said, bending down to the deaf ear. +"Edward is quite right." + +Miss Bettina looked at them all in succession. Had she believed the +accusations she would have discharged Neal on the spot, but she +doubted them. She had thought there was not so faithful a servant in +the world. And he looked so immaculate as he stood there! + +"I don't go out of the house this night until he has left it, Aunt +Bettina," resumed the captain. + +"This night!" echoed Miss Bettina, catching the words. "I can't let +Neal go without warning, leaving us without a servant. Who is to wait +upon us?" + +"You shall have my servant, aunt; one I have brought home with me----" + +"No," said Miss Bettina, resolute in the cause of justice. "Neal, I +will not part with you in that hasty manner. I cannot judge yet +between you and Captain Davenal. That you must leave is obvious; but +you shall have the proper month's warning." + +Neal stepped up, all suavity. "I beg your pardon, ma'am; you are very +kind, but I could not think of remaining a day to cause unpleasantness +in the family. I had better go at once. I have my feelings, ma'am, +although I am but a dependant. My conscience tells me that I have served +you faithfully." + +"I think you have, Neal." + +"I have indeed, ma'am, and I hope it will be remembered in my +character." + +"Don't send to me for one," impetuously broke out Captain Davenal. +"And now, Neal, the sooner you are out of the house the better. I +shall keep my word: to see you away from it ere I quit it myself." + +Neal bowed; he could but be ever the respectful servant: and retired. +Miss Davenal was bewildered. What with parting with Neal, what with +being left with nobody to replace him, she could not gather her +senses. Captain Davenal sat down. First of all promising her that the +servant he spoke of should be in the house before night, to remain +with her until she was suited with one, he next began to enlarge upon +Neal's delinquencies, and try to make her comprehend them. + +Sara silently left the room. It was altogether a painful subject, and +she did not care to hear more of it now. She went down into the +dining-parlour, her movements slow and quiet; since Mrs. Cray's +increased danger noise had been avoided in the house as much as +possible. Some one was standing up by the mantelpiece, his back +towards her; in the dusk of the room--for evening was drawing on--Sara +took it to be Mark; and yet she thought she had heard Mark's step in +his wife's chamber now, as she came downstairs. This gentleman was +taller, too! He turned suddenly round, and the fire threw its light on +the face of Oswald Cray. + +She stood a moment in surprise, and then went up to him, holding out +her hand as to any ordinary visitor, and saying a word of apology that +he should have been left there unannounced. A strange expression, an +expression of deprecation, almost of humility, sat on his features, +and he did not touch the offered hand. + +"I waited to see you," he said. "I came here to see Mark, who has been +with me." + +He stopped suddenly. His manner, his looks, were altogether strange. +Sara thought something must have happened. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. "You look as if you had some great +care upon you." + +"And so I have. That care that arises from shame and repentance; from +finding that we have been upon the mistaken road of wrong; been +treading it for years." + +She sat down, quietly, timidly, looking to him for an elucidation, +half-frightened at his emotion. + +"I wish to have an explanation with you, Sara. I want--if it be +possible--forgiveness. And I don't know how to enter upon the one or +to sue for the other." + +She had rarely seen him otherwise than calmly self-possessed. +Generally, especially of late years, he was cold almost to a fault. +And now he was as one blazing with an inward fire: his lips were +scarlet, his brow was flushed, his voice quite hoarse with emotion. + +"In the years gone by, I--I--threw you up, Sara. While I loved you +better than anything on earth, knowing that you were the only one upon +it who could ever awaken the passion within me, did I live to +centuries, I voluntarily resigned you. That night in the Abbey +graveyard at Hallingham, when we accidentally met--you have not +forgotten it--I told you that I could not marry you; that you were not +fit to be my wife----Hush! it was equivalent to it Sara, how can I stand +now before you and confess that I was altogether under an error; that +in my pride, my blindness, I had taken up a false view of things, and +was acting upon it? Can you see my shame, my repentance, as I say it +to you?" + +"I don't understand you," she gasped, utterly bewildered. + +"Will you so far pardon me--will you so far trust me after all that +has occurred--as to give me this one single word of explanation? To +whom did you attribute the cause of my acting in the way I did? Whose +ill-conduct was it, as you supposed, that had raised the barrier +between us?" + +She hesitated, not perhaps caring to reply. + +"I have had an interview today with Captain Davenal," he resumed, in a +low tone. "He has given me the details of the unhappy business he was +drawn into--the forged bills: I am, so far, in his entire confidence. +Will that help you to answer me?" + +"It was that," she said. + +"That alone?" + +"That alone. There was nothing else." + +"Well, Sara, can you believe me when I tell you that I never heard of +that business until today?--That Captain Davenal had nothing whatever +to do with my course of action?" + +Indeed she looked as though she could not believe him. What else then? +she asked. Who had? Under what impression had he acted? + +"Ah, there lies my shame! Sara, I dared--I dared to attribute +ill-conduct to another," he cried with emotion. "In my pride and +folly, in my mind's delusion, I presumed to set myself up for a judge +over one who in goodness might have crushed me to nothing. I shall +_never_ get over the remorse during life." + +"You--did not--attribute ill-conduct of any sort to me?" she said with +white lips. + +"To _you!_ To you whom I have ever believed to be one of the best and +truest women upon earth!--whom I have regarded through it all with an +amount of respect unutterable! No, no. But the question serves me +right." + +She laid her hands one over the other as she sat, striving to keep her +feelings under control. Praise from him was all too sweet yet. + +"O do me justice so far, Sara! While I gave you up I knew that to my +heart and judgment none were like unto you for goodness: I knew that +if my obstinate pride, my spirit of self-sufficiency, did but allow me +to marry you, you would be the greatest treasure man ever took to +himself. Can you tolerate me while I dare openly to say these +things?--can you believe that I am pouring them forth in my +humiliation? I have loved you deeply and fervently; I shall love you +always; but even that love has scarcely equalled my admiration and my +respect." + +"But who else, then, could have had any counteracting influence?" she +returned, after a while. + +"I dare not tell you." + +"There was only Edward. I had no other brother. No one else could have +done anything to bring shame upon----oh, surely you cannot mean papa!" +she broke off, the improbable idea flashing over her. + +"Don't ask me, Sara! In mercy to myself." + +"Papa who was so good?" she reiterated, paying no heed to his words in +her wonder. "He was so just, so kind, so honourable! I think if ever +there was a good man on earth who tried to do as God would have him, +it was papa. It is impossible you could suspect anything wrong in +him!" + +"My object in waiting to see you this evening was, first, to make my +confession; secondly, to ask you to be more just, more merciful than I +have been, and to forgive me," he rejoined in a low tone. "I must add +another petition yet, Sara; that you would generously allow this one +point to remain as it is between us." + +"But I think you ought to tell me," she urged. "Did you indeed suspect +papa?" + +"Yes." + +"But of what?" + +"Ah, don't press me further, Sara, for I cannot tell you. A singular +accident led me to doubt Dr. Davenal's conduct--honour--I hardly know +what to call it--and there followed on this a chain of circumstances +so apparently corroborative of the doubt that I thought I had no +resource but to believe. I believed, and I acted upon the belief: I +judged him harshly; I treated him coldly; I gave up you, my dearest +hope and object in life; and this day only have my eyes been opened, +and to my shame I learn that the whole thing, as regarded him, was a +delusion. _Will_ you--will you generously let my confession rest +here?" + +"Papa would not have done as Edward did," she whispered. + +"No, no, it was not anything of that nature. Money and money matters +had nothing to do with it. It was an entirely different thing. I am so +ashamed of myself that I cannot _bear_ to speak of this further. +Surely I have said enough. It was a mistake, a misapprehension +altogether: and the greatest act of kindness you can do me now is to +let it rest here." + +She sat gazing at him with questioning eyes, nearly lost in wonder. + +"Yes, the impression under which I acted was a false one. There +existed no cause whatever for my estranging myself from you. But for +my own unpardonable credulity I need never have given you up: and the +past years of anguish--and I know they have been full of anguish to +both of us--ought not to have had place. I was misled by an +unfortunate chain of events: and nothing remains to me but shame and +repentance." + +There ensued a silence. Sara was standing on the hearth-rug now, and +he took his elbow from the mantelpiece, where it had been resting, and +moved a step towards her. + +"Can I ever hope for your forgiveness?" + +"It seems to me that I have nothing to forgive," she answered, in a +low voice. "If circumstances misled you, you could not be blamed for +acting upon them, according to your belief." + +"Sara!"--he laid his hand upon her shoulder, and his voice shook with +the intensity of its emotion--"may I dare to hope that you will let me +in my future life strive to atone for this?" + +"How atone for it?" she faltered. + +"Will you generously look over the past folly?--will you suffer it to +be between us as it used to be?--will you be my wife at last?" + +She trembled as she stood, the conscious light of love mantling in her +cheek and in her drooping eye. Mr. Oswald Cray held her before him, +waiting and watching for the answer, his lips parted with suspense. + +"My brother's crime remains still," she whispered. "A memento of the +past." + +"Your brother's crime! Should you be punished for that?--for him? And +what of _my_ brother?" he continued, the revelation of the day +imparting to his tone a whole world of remorse, of self-condemning +repentance. "What disgrace has not my brother brought to me? O Sara; +should the ill wrought by these ties part us? It never ought to have +done so. Let us stand alone, henceforth, you and I, independent of the +world! Don't try me too greatly! don't punish me, as in justice you +might!" + +For a moment her eyes looked straight into his with a loving, earnest +glance, and then dropped again. "I will be your wife, Oswald," she +simply said. "I have never tried to forget you, for I knew I could +not." + +And as if relief from the tension of suspense were too great for entire +silence, a faint sound of emotion broke from Oswald Cray. And he bent +to take from her lips that kiss, left upon them so long ago in the +garden-parlour of the old house at Hallingham. + + + + +CHAPTER LXII. +"FINANCE," THIS TIME. + + +An afternoon in March. The sun was drawing towards its setting amidst +gorgeous clouds, and the red light, illumining the western sky, threw +its rays into an invalid's chamber, and lighted it up with a warm hue. + +Something else was drawing towards its setting; and that was the +feeble life of the chamber's chief occupant. It was a good-sized +pleasant room: the bed at the end farthest from the window; the middle +space devoted to the comfort of the invalid, a table with some books +upon its handsome cover, a sofa, easy chairs, velvet footstools, and a +few pretty ornaments to amuse the eye. + +On the sofa, by the side of the fire, a coverlid of the lightest and +softest texture thrown gently over her, lay the invalid, her hands +white and attenuated, her face drawn and wan. But there was a strange +beauty in the face yet; in the eyes with their violet depths, in the +exquisite features shaded by the mass of silky hair. You do not fail +to recognise Mrs. Cray. Just now the eyes were closed, and she was +dozing peacefully. + +At the opposite end of the hearth-rug, sitting restlessly in an easy +chair, was Mark. Of late Mark had been rather prone to be as still and +idle as his wife: the inert life wearied him, it chafed its spirit; +but there was no escape from it at present, and Mark Cray had perforce +resigned himself to it, as an imprisoned bird resigns itself in time +to its cage. Mark's future prospects were uncommonly vague: in fact +they were as yet bounded by the old expectation-anchor, the +"something" that was to "turn up." Any time in the past few weeks his +wife's death might have been expected, and Mark had yielded to the +idleness of the circumstances, and been tranquil. Mr. Barker was away +in Paris, and did not write; the Wheal Bang affairs were going on to a +comfortable conclusion, and Mark was letting the future take care of +itself. Strolling out for short walks; giving a quarter of an hour to +the "Times;" wandering for a few minutes into the sitting-rooms and +the presence of Miss Bettina, and lounging back in the easy chairs by +the side of his wife--thus had Mark's recent days been passed. + +But on this afternoon all was changed, and Mark's forced quiescence +had given place to a fidgety restlessness, very characteristic of the +old times. The post had just brought a letter from Mr. Barker--some +accident or contrary weather having delayed the arrival of the French +mail--and Mark Cray upon reading it felt exalted into the seventh +heaven. + +Barker had succeeded! He had brought out a company in Paris connected +with finance; the great work he had been striving for so long. In +three weeks' time from that date it would all be in full operation, +and if Mrs. Cray were sufficiently well to be left, and Mark came over +to Paris, he could instantly step into a post in the Company at a +salary of eight hundred a-year to begin with. In about six months' +time, according to moderate computation, the thing would be in full +swing, and the profits inaugurated certainly at not less than six +thousand per annum; the half of which splendid income should be +Mark's. Such was Mr. Barker's news. + +Can you wonder at Mark's restlessness? At his brightened eye, his +flushed face, as he sits there in the chair, bolt upright, his hand +raised incessantly to push back his hair? He glances across at +Caroline--whom he really loves very much still--and thinks what a pity +it is that all this good fortune should have delayed itself until now. +Had it come too late for her? Mark Cray in his sanguine fashion +actually asks himself the question, medical man though he is. For the +last two or three days Caroline had seemed so much better! only on +this very morning she had told Mark she felt as if she were getting +well again. + +Mark moved his restless legs and contrived to knock down the +fire-shovel. The noise awoke Caroline. She stirred, and turned her +opening eyes on her husband. + +"What was that? Did anybody come in, Mark?" + +"I threw over one of the fire-irons. I am sorry it disturbed you. They +are always sticking out, tiresome things! It's not a proper fender for +a bedroom. Caroline, I have had a letter from Barker," he continued, +rising in excitement and standing before her on the hearth-rug. "It's +the most glorious news! The thing's realised at last." + +"What thing?" asked Caroline, feebly, after a pause of bewilderment. + +"The thing he has had on hand so long, the great scheme he has been +working for. O Carine, I wish you could get better! There's eight +hundred a year waiting for me in Paris; and there'll be an income of +at least three thousand before six months are over. Three thousand for +my share, you know. I'm sure you would like living in Paris." + +She did not answer. Nothing was heard save the quick gasps of the +panting breath, the result of excessive weakness, or--of--something +else coming very near. Mark was struck with some change in her aspect, +and bent down to her. + +"Don't you feel so well, Carine?" + +"I--feel--weary," was all she answered, her voice ominously low. + +"Where's Sara, I wonder?" said Mark. "I'll go and send her to you. You +want some beef-tea, or something, I daresay." + +Mark went down the stairs, meeting Sara on them. In the drawing-room, +with Miss Bettina, was Oswald Cray, who had just come in. He was a +frequent visitor now. + +The half-brothers shook hands, coldly enough. They were civil to each +other always, but there could never be cordiality between them. Not +because of the past; but because they were so essentially different in +mind, in judgment, and in conduct. + +"My luck has turned at last, Oswald," exclaimed Mark impulsively. + +"In what way?" asked Oswald, who was leaning over the back of a chair +while he talked to Miss Bettina. + +"I have just had a letter from Barker," answered Mark, running his +hand through his hair with his restless fingers. "I told you what a +great scheme he had got on hand in Paris, but you turned the cold +shoulder on it. Well, it's bearing fruit at last." + +"Oh," said Oswald, evincing a desire, if his tone and manner might be +judged by, to turn the cold shoulder on it still, metaphorically +speaking. "How is your wife this afternoon?" he continued, passing to +a different subject. + +"She has been so much better the last few days that one might almost +be tempted to hope she'd get well again," rejoined Mark, volubly. "She +seems tired now--low, I thought. Sara's just gone up to her. What a +shame it is that things turn out so cross-grained and contrary!" + +The concluding sentence, delivered with marked acumen, reached the ear +of Miss Bettina. She looked up from her knitting to scan Mark. + +"If Barker's luck had only been realised six months ago, what a thing +it would have been!" he went on. "Caroline might have got better, +instead of worse. In the enjoyment of luxuries in a home of her own, +renewed wealth and position in prospective, with the pure air of the +balmy French capital, there's no knowing what benefit she might not +have derived. And now it comes too late! I shall ever regret it for +her sake." + +"Regret what?" sharply interposed Miss Bettina. + +Mark replied by giving a summary of Barker's luck. Miss Bettina +paused, knitting-needles in hand, her keen grey eyes fixed on Mark, as +she tried to understand him. + +"Barker in luck!" she repeated, catching some of the words and the +general sense. "Has he come into an estate in the moon? Don't be a +simpleton, Mark Cray." + +Mark Cray felt exasperated. Nothing angered him so much as for people +to pretend to see these enchanting prospects with different eyes from +his own. He had always been convinced it was done only to vex him. +Poor Mark! He turned to Oswald, and began expatiating upon the good +fortune that was drawing so near; and Oswald saw that it was of no use +to try to stop him. The fever-mania had again taken hold of Mark. + +"What is the scheme, do you say?" asked Oswald, just as he would have +asked anything of a child; and perhaps it was not altogether his fault +that a sound of mockery was discernible in his tone. + +"It's connected with finance." + +"Oh!" said Oswald. + +"It is the grandest thing that has been brought before the public for +many a year," continued Mark, his voice impressive, his light eyes +sparkling. "The very greatest--" + +"Grander than the Great Wheal Bang?" inopportunely interposed Miss +Bettina, Mark's earnest tones having enabled her to hear better than +usual. + +"A hundred times grander," returned Mark, his mind too completely +absorbed in the contemplation of the grandeur to detect the irony. +"That is, better, you know, Miss Bettina. The mine was very good; but +of course there _was_ a risk attending that, from water or other +causes, and the result unfortunately realised it. This is different. +Once the company is formed, and the shares are taken, it can't fail. +Barker and I went through the thing together over and over again when +he was in London; we had it all down before us in black and white. We +allowed for every possible risk and contingency, and we proved _that +the thing could not fail, if once organised_." + +Oswald listened quietly. Miss Bettina had lost the thread again. + +"The job was to organise the thing," resumed Mark. "It could not be +done without money, and Barker--to speak the truth--found a difficulty +in getting that. The money market was tight here, and men don't care +to speculate when money's not plentiful. He also required the +co-operation of some French capitalist, who would put his name to +it--some good man on the Bourse, and _that_ was hard to get. Those +Frenchmen are all so narrow-minded, fight so shy. He knows two or +three good Englishmen in Paris who were willing to go into it, and who +helped Barker immensely with advice and introductions, and that; but +they had no funds at command. However, it's all accomplished now. +Barker has fought his way through impediments, and surmounted them. +The company's formed, the preliminary arrangements are successfully +carried out, and fortune is at hand." + +"What's at hand?" asked Miss Bettina. + +"Fortune," repeated Mark. "I shall take one of those nice little boxes +in the Champs Elysées. Some of them are charming. Or perhaps only part +of one if--if Carine--O dear! it is hard for her that this luck did +not fall in a year ago! I wonder," broke off Mark, passing to another +phase of his future visions, "I wonder whether, if it were possible to +get Caroline over to Paris now, the change might benefit her?" + +"You think of residing in Paris?" said Oswald. + +"Of course I do. Paris will be the centre of operations. Barker wants +me over there at once; and the minute I join him I begin to draw at +the rate of eight hundred a-year. Just to go on with, you know, until +the money falls in." + +"Mark," said Oswald, after a pause, "will it be of _any_ use my saying +a word of warning to you?" + +"On what subject?" returned Mark, looking up with surprise. + +"On this subject. It seems to me that you are falling into another +delusion; that the--" + +"No, it will not be of any use," burst forth Mark in strange +excitement "I might have known beforehand that you'd turn out my enemy +upon the point. If gold and diamonds were dropping down in a shower +from the skies you'd not stretch forth your hand to catch them. +There's a mist before your eyes, Oswald, that prevents you seeing +these things in their proper aspect." + +He began to pace the room as he spoke, chafing considerably _Why_ was +it that these little hints of warning awoke the irritation of Mark's +spirit? Could there be an undercurrent of doubt in his mind whether +Oswald was right and he wrong? However it might be, one thing was +certain--that no warning, let it come from whom it would, could do any +good with Mark. + +As he turned to face them again, Sara entered. An expression of alarm +was on her face, and she closed the door before speaking. She had come +to say that Caroline appeared worse; altogether different from usual. + +Mark ran up the stairs; Miss Bettina put down her knitting to follow. +Sara turned to Oswald Cray. + +"She knows you are here, Oswald, and would like to see you. She wants +to bid you goodbye. I think her saying that alarmed me more than +anything." + +Caroline was on the sofa as before. Very quiet, save for her panting +breath. Her white hands lay listless, her face, dreadfully worn though +it was, was calm, tranquil. She looked at them one by one, and +slightly raised her hand as Oswald entered. He bent down to her, +taking it in his. + +"Thank you for all," she whispered. + +The change in her countenance struck them. It so far frightened Mark +as to take from him his self-possession. He pushed Oswald away. + +"O Carine, what is it? You cannot be going to die! You must not die, +now that all this good luck is coming upon me!" + +She glanced up at him, her eyes wide open, as if she scarcely +understood. + +"There's the most beautiful home getting ready for you in Paris +Carine," he resumed, his voice sounding as if he were on the verge of +tears. "We'll live in the Champ Elysées; it is the loveliest spot, and +you can't fail to grow better there, if we can only get your disease +to turn. O Carine! don't leave me just when I am able to surround you +with wealth and luxury again! This will be a greater and a surer thing +than the Great Wheal Bang." + +"Don't, Mark! I am going to a better home." + +"But I can't let you go until I have atoned for the past! I----" + +"Hush, hush!" she interrupted. "O Mark! if you only knew how welcome +it is to me! I am going to be at peace after all the turmoil. I am +going to rest." + +"Do you _want_ to go?" pursued Mark, half-resentfully. "Don't you +_care_ to get well?" + +"I have not cared to get well since I came to England. That is, I have +not thought I should," she returned between the gasps of her laboured +breath. "When I heard the bell toll out for Prince Albert, I asked who +was I that I should be spared when he was taken? The next world has +seemed very near to me since then. As if the doors of it had been +brought down to earth, and stood always open." + +That the death of the Prince, brought so palpably, as may be said, +before her, had taken a great hold on the mind of Mrs. Cray there was +no doubt. Several times during her later weeks of illness she had +alluded to it. Her principal feeling in relation to it appeared to be +that of _gratitude_. Not gratitude for his death; there was only +sorrow for that; but for the strange impression it had left upon her +own mind, the vista of the Hereafter. For the good and great prince to +be taken suddenly from the earthly duties so much needing him was only +an earnest, had one been wanting, that he had entered upon a better +and higher sphere. It seemed that he had but been removed a step; a +step on the road towards heaven; and it most certainly in a measure +had the effect of reconciling her to her own removal, of +tranquillising her weary heart, of bringing her thoughts and feelings +into that state most fitting to prepare for it. Often and often had +she awoke from a deep sleep, starting suddenly up and calling out, "I +thought I heard St. Paul's bell again?" + +"I wish the Great Wheal Bang had been in the sea!" gloomily exclaimed +Mark Cray, who was no more calculated for a scene such as this than a +child, and had little more control over his tongue. "But for that mine +turning out as it did your illness might never have come on." + +"Don't regret it, Mark," she feebly said. "God's hand was in it all. I +look back and trace it. But for the trouble brought to me then, I +might never have been reconciled to go. It is so merciful! God has +weaned me from the world before removing me from it." + +Mark Cray drew a little back and stood gazing at his wife a gloomy +helpless sort of expression on his countenance as his right hand +nervously pushed back his hair. Oswald was at the head of the sofa, +Sara near to him, and Miss Bettina was at the far end of the room, +looking after some comforting medicine drops. Thus there was a clear +space before the sofa, and the red light from the fire played on +Caroline's wasted features. That she was dying--dying suddenly, as may +be said--there could be no doubt. + +"If things had not turned out so crossly!" began Mark again. "I knew I +should redeem the misfortunes of that Wheal Bang. I always told you I +should extricate myself, Caroline." + +"We shall all be extricated from our misfortunes here," came from her +dying lips. "A few years more or less of toil, and strife, and daily +care, and then redemption comes. Not the redemption that _we_ work. O +Mark, if you could see things as I now see them! When we are on the +threshold of the next world our eyes are opened to the poor value +of this. Its worst cares have been but petty trials, its greatest +heartache was not worth the pang. They were but hillocks that we had +to pass in our journey upwards, and God was always leading us. If we +could but trust to Him! If we did but learn to resign our hands +implicitly to his and be led as little children!" + +Mark Cray felt somewhat awed. He began to doubt whether it were +exactly the time and place to pour forth regrets after the misfortunes +of the Great Wheal Bang, or enlarge on the future glories opening to +him in the French capital. + +"It is so much better for me to be at rest! God is taking me to the +place where change and sickness cannot enter. I shall see Uncle +Richard: I shall see poor Richard who went before him: I shall see +papa and mamma, whom I have nearly forgotten. We all go, some sooner, +some later. This world lasts but a little minute; that one is the +home, the gathering-place. Mark, dear Mark! the troubles here are of +so little moment; they are only trifling hindrances through which we +must bear on to Eternity. Oh, trust God! They are all sent by him." + +There occurred an interruption. Mr. Welch, who had not been able to +call before that day, came in, and the solemn feeling that had been +stealing over those in the chamber gave place to the ordinary routine +of everyday event. + +"Before the morning," the surgeon said when he left, in answer to a +grave question put to him by Miss Bettina. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIII. +SIX MONTHS LATER. + + +The first scenes of this story were laid in Hallingham, and it is only +well that it should close there. Well or not, it cannot be helped; for +the chief personages you have met in its course were now gathered in +that town. + +Caroline died in March, and this was the beginning of October; so you +see several months have gone on in the year. The cold ungenial summer +of 1862 had come to an end, and the Great Exhibition, characteristic +of the year, was drawing to an end also. Ah! how we plan, and plot, +and work, and a higher hand mars it! A higher wisdom than ours looks +on, and overrules, and changes all things! The one brave, earnest +spirit, who had worked with all the energy of his true heart to bring +about and perfect that exhibition, was alone not spared to see its +fruition. Was there a single heart, of all the multitudes that flocked +to it, that was not weighed down with a latent sense of the something +wanting, and of the exhibition's failure?--of its failure in a general +point of view, and of our own short-seeing helplessness? The gilt had +been taken off the gingerbread. + +In the Abbey at Hallingham, settled in it, as she hoped, for life, was +Miss Bettina. With the death of Mrs. Cray all necessity for Miss +Davenal's remaining in London had ceased. In point of fact, it may be +said to have ceased from the time Mark Cray and his wife went into +Normandie; but she had stayed on. Very much disliking London, Miss +Davenal made arrangements for leaving it as soon as she could do so +with convenience, and in June had come back to Hallingham. Some +difficulty arose about a residence; Miss Davenal was not one who could +be put anywhere. She possessed some houses of her own in the town, +good ones, but they were let. Oswald Cray it was who directed her +attention to the Abbey. It had never been occupied since Mark's short +tenancy of it; and at last, after some few alterations had been made +in it, to the increase of its indoor comfort, Miss Davenal took it on +a lease and entered into possession. + +So far as human foresight may anticipate in this world of changes, she +had settled down for life. The great barn of a drawing-room had been +made into two apartments--handsome both, and of good proportions; +the one was the drawing-room still, the other was Miss Davenal's +bedchamber. A quiet, tranquil life she might expect to live here with +her two handmaidens, Watton and Dorcas. + +For Watton had settled down also after her rovings, and come back to +Hallingham. Watton had not lightly or capriciously resigned her +superior situation in London; but ever since the past winter, Watton +had been ailing. She tried three or four doctors; she took, as she +said, quarts of physic; but Watton could not get strong. There was no +particular disorder, and she came at length to the conclusion that it +must be London that disagreed with her; and she gave notice co quit +her place. So she was installed once more upper maid to Miss Davenal, +and seemed since the change to have got well all one way. + +She would have more to do than she had in the old days at the +doctor's, for there was no Neal now. Miss Davenal declined to try +another manservant, probably from a conviction that she should never +replace the services of that finished and invaluable domestic. Miss +Davenal was by no means convinced of the treachery attributed to him +by Captain Davenal, and at odd moments was apt to look upon the charge +as emanating solely from the gallant captain's fanciful imagination. + +Neal himself was flourishing. Considering the precaution he took to +keep himself right with the world, there was not much probability that +he would ever be otherwise. Neal had entered on a situation with one +of her Majesty's ministers; his lordship's own personal attendant. It +was to be hoped there'd be no opportunity afforded him of getting at +any of the state secrets! Ah, how many of these rogues are there, +besides Neal, filling confidential posts in the world! Will it be so +to the end of their career? Will it be so with Neal? I sometimes +wonder. + +The Abbey was gay just now, in this same month of October, for Miss +Davenal was entertaining a party in it. Sara had left it a fortnight +past with Oswald Cray; and Captain Davenal, who had come down to give +her away, had remained since, with his wife, on a visit to Miss +Davenal. He called her Aunt Bett still: but she was more cordial with +him than she used to be, for she had learnt really to love the sweet +young wife. She was in the habit of assuring him that Rose was a +greater treasure than he deserved; and in that he did not contradict +her. + +Two other visitors at the abbey were Dick and Leo. Poor Leo could not +recover his health; Mrs. Keen grew timid about him, and it was decided +that he should go back to his native place, Barbadoes, for a short +while, and see what that would do. His father and mother felt +persuaded it would effect wonders, and of course they thought nobody +could take care of him as they could; so Leo was on the point of +sailing. Mr. Dick, tolerated in the capacity of visitor as a necessary +evil for his brother's sake, had come home to Sara's wedding, and was +allowed to remain still, to see the last of Leo. Dick found the +Michaelmas holidays delightful. What with getting inside the +jam-closets, and making raids on sundry neighbouring gardens where the +pears and apples grew too abundantly, and teasing Captain Davenal's +son and heir--a noisy young gentleman, who promised to be another +wicked Dick--and taking stealthy rides on the tops of the railway +engines (lying out all tempting on the opposite side to the pears and +apples) Mr. Dick found the time pass charmingly. Captain Davenal took +him out shooting now and then, by way of a treat. One day that the +captain was otherwise engaged, the gun disappeared, and Dick also; and +Miss Bettina went all but into a real fit, expecting nothing less than +to see him brought home with his head shot off. Dick, however, +reappeared with his head on, and a pheasant and a partridge in his +hand, which he had shot and brought home in open triumph, defying the +game-laws. Miss Bettina wondered how long it would be before Dick came +to the gallows. + +There was one more visitor at the Abbey. And that was Mark Cray. Mark, +however, had been there but for a day or two, not for the wedding. He +had come to bear off Leo Davenal: for the _compagnon de voyage_ and +protector of Leo to the West Indies was to be no other than Mark. + +Mark Cray was down in feather. Dreadfully so. After his wife's death +Mark had made his way to Paris, to enter upon the brilliant career he +supposed to be in readiness for him. Not _quite_ ready, however, he +found when he got there; some trifling preliminaries had to be +completed yet. Mark thought nothing of the check: he was sanguine: +Barker was sanguine; it was only a little delay: and Mark amused +himself most agreeably, looking at the houses in the Champs Elysées, +against the time came that he should require to fix upon one. + +Mark's friends in England heard nothing of him until the middle of the +summer; and then Mark himself appeared among them uncommonly +crestfallen. That something was wrong, appeared evident. Mark gave +little explanation, but news was gathered from other sources. It +appeared that Mr. Barker's grand project, with "finance" for its +basis, had come to grief. At the very hour of its (expected) fruition +the thing had in some ingenious manner dropped through, and thereby +entailed some temporary inconvenience, not to say embarrassment, on +its two warm supporters, Barker and Mark. Of course it was entirely +undeserved; a most cruel stroke of adverse, ill-natured fate; but +nevertheless both of them had to bow to it. Mark Cray came over to +England; and Barker was compelled to go into ignoble hiding, nobody +but himself knew where, while he smoothed his ruffled plumes, and +gathered his forces for a fresh campaign. + +Reposing in quiet was all very well for Barker, who appeared to have +some perpetual fund to draw upon somewhere: though, in point of fact, +the man had not a penny in the world, and how he managed to get along +in his tumbles down from luck, he alone could tell: but it was not +well for Mark Cray. Mark had not the plead genius of Barker--or +whatever you may please to call it--the talent of extracting funds +from some quarter or other for daily wants. If Mark was not "in luck," +Mark stood a chance of starving. When Mark went back to London he had +no home, no money, it may be said no friends; and, but for his meeting +Captain Davenal one day accidentally, Mark could not, that he saw, +have gone on at all. Later, some real luck did come to Mark. His late +wife's friends--who had never been made acquainted with the grand +expectations of the great Paris scheme--wrote to tell Mark that +through the unexpected death of one of the medical men in Barbadoes, +an excellent practice might be secured by him if he chose to go out +and step into it. + +Be you very sure, Mark Cray did not hesitate. Hating the profession +though he did, feeling an innate conviction within himself that he was +ill-qualified for it, he yet decided to embrace it again as his +calling and occupation in life. When it comes to starving with a man, +there's not much choice. So the decision was made, and Mark Cray was +going out immediately to Barbadoes, and was to take charge of Leopold +Davenal. + +Once before you saw Miss Davenal waiting in that Abbey for the return +of a bridegroom and bride from their wedding-tour. She was so waiting +in like manner now. Oswald Cray and his wife had stopped at Thorndyke +for a day or two on their return, as they were now about to stop at +Hallingham, on their way to their new home in London. + +Not as the guests of Sir Philip Oswald. Sir Philip had gone to that +place where visiting is not; and Sir Henry was the master of +Thorndyke. He had wanted Oswald and Sara to stay the whole of their +holiday there; but they had preferred a greater change. + +Miss Davenal sat in her drawing-room. The October sun was getting low, +but still the expected guests had not arrived. Near to Miss Davenal, +nursing a dancing baby that would not be coaxed to stillness, was a +pretty, gentle woman--Mrs. Davenal. Leo stood at the window, looking +out, and Mark Cray sat in a distant chair, restless, and pushing back +his hair as usual. Mark did not altogether relish the expected +presence of his half-brother but there was no help for it. They had +not met since Mark went off to Paris in the spring, largely telling +Oswald that his debt to him would be paid with interest ere the year +was out. + +"Is not that a carriage, Leo?" + +"No, Aunt Bettina, it's a baker's cart going by." + +Miss Davenal caught enough of the reply to know that it was not what +she asked after. "Where's Richard?" she presently said. + +"I saw him over there on an engine just now," was Leo's answer, +pointing towards the station. + +"He'll be brought home on one some day, blown up. Rose, my dear, that +baby is tiring you. Let Leo ring for the nurse." + +Mrs. Davenal laughed, and was about to say that the baby did not tire +her and she would rather keep him, when Dick burst in. + +"It's coming down the road; it will be here in a minute. Look, Aunt +Bett!" + +He dashed across the room to the window as he spoke. Example is +contagious, and they all followed him. One of the Thorndyke carriages +was drawing up to the door. Excitable Dick quitted the window and flew +down again. + +They were soon in the room. Sara, with her sweet face at rest now, and +Oswald behind her. A few moments given to greeting, and Sara had taken +the baby, and Oswald was shaking hands with his brother. + +"I had no idea we should find you here, Mark." + +Mark answered something which nobody could catch, and Captain Davenal +came in. + +"Is Henry Oswald with you?" + +"No," said Oswald. "He will be in Hallingham tomorrow. He sadly wanted +us to stay longer with him, Miss Bettina, and go on straight to London +from Thorndyke. What would you have said to that?" + +"Thank you," said Miss Davenal, hearing it was impossible to say what. +"I shall be happy to see him." + +"Have you seen your old friends, Mark?" asked Oswald; "have you been +out much?" + +"I have not been out at all, and I have seen none of them," responded +Mark, gloomily. "I don't want to see them." + +"How's Mr. Barker? Have you heard from him lately?" + +"I heard the day before I came here," replied Mark, a shade of +brightness rising to his countenance. "Barker has all the luck of it +in this world. He is in something good again." + +"Again!" repeated Oswald, suppressing his strong inclination to laugh. + +"So he writes me word. It's something he has taken in hand and is +going to perfect. If it comes to anything I shall return from +Barbadoes and join him." + +"Oh," said Oswald. "Well, Mark, I hope you will have a pleasant voyage +out there, and that you will find your journey all you can wish." + +Dinner would soon be ready, and Sara was shown to her room. It +overlooked the Abbey graveyard. She took off her bonnet and stood +there, lost in many reminiscences of the past, in the changes that +time had wrought, in the uncertain contemplation of the future. What +would be poor Mark Cray's future? Would he abide at Barbadoes, +applying himself as well as his abilities allowed him to the pursuit +of his legitimate profession?--or would his unstable, weak mind be +dazzled with these illegitimate and delusive speculations to the end, +until they engulfed him? + +How strangely, how wonderfully had they been brought through changes +and their accompanying trials! In this very room, where she now stood, +Oswald had been born. The poor little boy, sent adrift as may be said +without a home, motherless, as good as fatherless, had worked out his +own way in the world, striving always to make a friend of God. Ah, +when did it ever fail? It is the only sure help in life. + +And what had her own later troubles been; her cares, anxieties, +sorrows? Looking back, Sara saw great cause to reproach herself: why +had she so given way to despair? It is true that she had never, in a +certain sense, a degree, lost her trust in God: but she had not +believed there could be this bright ending. A little ray of the +setting sun was reflected on the tombstone formerly noticed; it fell +on the significant inscription, "Buried in misery." Sara wondered +whether he, the unhappy tenant, had never learned to abide in God. + +So absorbed was she in thought that she did not notice any one had +come into the room, until a hand was laid upon her shoulder. It was +her husband's. He put some letters down in the broad, old-fashioned +window-seat. + +"They have been sent on to me here from the office," he explained, as +Sara glanced at them. "Business letters, all. In one there's a bit of +gossip, though: in Allister's." + +"Is one of them from Allister?" + +"Yes. Jane's going to be married. They have met with some Scotch +gentleman out there, an old acquaintance of Jane's, and things are +settled. Frank says his tongue is broad Scotch, and he can't +understand half he says. Jane does, however, so it's all right." + +A smile played upon Sara lips, as she thought of the past jealousy. +She might tell her husband of it some time. "Does Mr. Allister keep +well!" she asked. + +"He has been quite well ever since he went there: _he_ says very +strong. I hope it has set him up for life. What were you thinking of +so deeply, Sara, that you did not hear me come in?" + +"At the moment, I was thinking of that evening when you and I met +there, in the graveyard," she answered, pointing down to it. "What a +miserable evening it was!" + +"Don't dwell on it, love. _I_ cannot, without a pang of shame." + +"Nay, but it is pleasant to look back upon it now, Oswald. It is +pleasant to contrast that time with this." + +He shook his head with a sort of shiver, and relapsed into silence, +his hand thrown round her. + +"Oswald," she resumed in a low tone, "_won't_ you tell me what your +suspicion was?" + +"I will tell you some time, Sara; not now. Oh, my wife, my wife, how +much is there in the past for many of us to repent of!" he continued +in what seemed an uncontrollable impulse. "And it is only through +God's mercy that we do repent." + +She laid her head upon his shoulder and let it rest there. Its safe +abiding-place, so long as the world, for them, should last. + +Only through God's mercy. My friends, may it be shed on us all +throughout our pilgrimage in this chequered life, and ever abide with +us unto the end! Fare you well. + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Oswald Cray, by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58188 *** |