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diff --git a/58345-0.txt b/58345-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab23ab2 --- /dev/null +++ b/58345-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10812 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58345 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + 1. Page scan source: Google Books + https://books.google.com/books?id=0nrlugEACAAJ + (the Bavarian State Library) + + + + + + +COLLECTION +OF +BRITISH AUTHORS + +TAUCHNITZ EDITION. + +VOL. 1270. +WITHIN THE MAZE BY MRS. HENRY WOOD. + +IN TWO VOLUMES. +VOL. I. + + + + + + +WITHIN THE MAZE. +A NOVEL. + + +BY +MRS. HENRY WOOD, +AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," ETC. + + +_COPYRIGHT EDITION_. + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. +VOL. I. + + + + +LEIPZIG +BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ +1872. + +_The Right of Translation is reserved_. + + + + + + +CONTENTS +OF VOLUME I. + +CHAPTER + I. Mrs. Andinnian's Home. + II. Lucy Cleeve. + III. Done at Sunset. + IV. The Trial. + V. Unable to get strong. + VI. An Atmosphere of Mystery. + VII. At the Charing-Cross Hotel. + VIII. In the Avenue d'Antin. + IX. Down at Foxwood. + X. Mrs. Andinnian's Secret. + XI. At the Gate of the Maze. + XII. Taking an Evening Stroll. + XIII. Miss Blake gets in. + XIV. Miss Blake on the Watch. + XV. Revealed to Lady Andinnian. + XVI. A Night at the Maze. + XVII. Before the World. + XVIII. A Night Alarm. + XIX. In the same Train. + XX. Only one Fly at the Station. + XXI. Hard to Bear. + XXII. With his Brother. + + + + + + +WITHIN THE MAZE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. +Mrs. Andinnian's Home. + + +The house was ugly and old-fashioned, with some added modern +improvements, and was surrounded by a really beautiful garden. Though +situated close upon a large market town of Northamptonshire, it stood +alone, excluded from the noise and bustle of the world. + +The occupant of this house was a widow lady, Mrs. Andinnian. Her +husband, a post-captain in the Royal Navy, had been dead some years. +She had two sons. The elder, Adam, was of no profession, and lived +with her: the younger, Karl, was a lieutenant in one of Her Majesty's +regiments. Adam was presumptive heir to his uncle, Sir Joseph +Andinnian, a baronet of modern creation: Karl had his profession alone +to look to, and a small private income of two hundred a year. + +They were not rich, these Andinnians: though the captain had deemed +himself well-off, what with his private fortune, and what with his +pay. The private fortune was just six hundred a year; the pay not +great: but Captain Andinnian's tastes were simple, his wants few. At +his death it was found that he had bequeathed his money in three equal +parts: two hundred a year to his wife, and two hundred each to his +sons. "Adam and his mother will live together," he said in the will; +"she'd not be parted from him: and four hundred pounds, with her bit +of pension, will be enough for comfort. When Adam succeeds his uncle, +they can make any fresh arrangement that pleases them. But I hope when +that time shall come they will not forget Karl." + +Mrs. Andinnian resented the will, and resented these words in it. Her +elder boy, Adam, had always been first and foremost with her: never a +mother loved a son more ardently than she loved him. For Karl she +cared not. Captain Andinnian was not blind to the injustice, and +perhaps thence arose the motive that induced him not to leave his +wife's two hundred pounds of income at her own disposal: when Mrs. +Andinnian died, it would lapse to Karl. The captain had loved his sons +equally: he would willingly have left them equally provided for in +life, and divided the fortune that was to come sometime to Adam. Mrs. +Andinnian, in spite of the expected rise for Adam, would have had him +left better off from his father's means than Karl. + +There had been nearly a lifelong feud between the two family +branches. Sir Joseph Andinnian and his brother the captain had not met +for years and years: and it was a positive fact that the latter's sons +had never seen their uncle. For this feud the brothers themselves were +not in the first instance to blame. It did not arise with them, but +with their wives. Both ladies were of a haughty, overbearing, and +implacable temper: they had quarrelled very soon after their first +introduction to each other; the quarrel grew, and grew, and finally +involved the husbands as well in its vortex. + +Joseph Andinnian, who was the younger of the two brothers, had been a +noted and very successful civil engineer. Some great work, that he had +originated and completed, gained him his reward--a baronetcy. While he +was in the very flush of his new honours, an accident, that he met +with, laid him for many months upon a sick-bed. Not only that: it +incapacitated him for future active service. So, when he was little +more than a middle-aged man, he retired from his profession, and took +up his abode for life at a pretty estate he had bought in Kent, +called Foxwood Court, barely an hour's railway journey from London: by +express train not much more than half one. Here, he and his wife had +lived since: Sir Joseph growing more and more of an invalid as the +years went on. They had no children; consequently his brother, Captain +Andinnian, was heir to the baronetcy: and, following on Captain +Andinnian, Adam, the captain's eldest son. + +Captain Andinnian did not live to succeed. In what seemed the pride of +his health and strength, just after he had landed from a three years' +voyage, and was indulging in ambitious visions of a flag, symptoms of +a mortal disease manifested themselves. He begged of his physicians to +let him know the truth; and they complied--he must expect but a very +few weeks more of life. Captain Andinnian, after taking a day or two +to look matters fully in the face, went up to London, and thence +down to Sir Joseph's house in Kent. The brothers, once face to face, +met as though no ill-blood had ever separated them: hands were +locked in hands, gaze went out to gaze. Both were simple-minded, +earnest-hearted, affectionate-natured men; and but for their wives--to +whom, if the truth must be avowed, each lay in subjection--not a +mis-word would ever have arisen between them. + +"I am dying, Joseph," said the captain, when some of their mutual +emotion had worn away. "The doctors tell me so, and I feel it to be +true. Naturally, it has set me on the thought of many things--that I +am afraid I have been too carelessly putting off. What I have come +down to you chiefly for, is to ask about my son--Adam. You'll tell me +the truth, won't you, Joseph, as between brothers?" + +"I'll tell you anything, Harry," was Sir Joseph's answer. "The truth +about what?" + +"Whether he is to succeed you or not?" + +"Why, of course he must succeed: failing yourself. What are you +thinking of, Harry, to ask it? I've no son of my own: it's not likely +I shall have one now. He will be Sir Adam after me." + +"It's not the title I was thinking of, Joseph. Failing a direct heir, +I know that must come to him. But the property?--will he have that? It +is not entailed; and you could cut him out absolutely." + +"D'ye think I'd be so unjust as that, Harry?" was the half indignant +reply. "A baronet's title, and nothing to keep it up upon! I have +never had an idea of leaving it away from you; or from him if you went +first. When Adam succeeds to my name and rank, he will succeed to my +property. Were my wife to survive me, she'd have this place for life, +and a good part of the income: but Adam would get it all at her +death." + +"This takes a weight off my mind," avowed Captain Andinnian. "Adam was +not brought up to any profession. Beyond the two hundred a year he'll +inherit from me----" + +"A bad thing that--no profession," interrupted Sir Joseph. "If I had +ten sons, and they were all heirs to ten baronetcies, each one should +be brought up to use his brains or his hands." + +"It's what I have urged over and over again," avowed the captain. "But +the wife--you know what she is--set her face against it. 'He'll be Sir +Adam Andinnian of Foxwood,' she'd answer me with, 'and he shall not +soil his hands with work.' I have been nearly, always afloat, too, +Joseph: not on the spot to enforce things: something has lain in +that." + +"I wonder the young man should not have put himself forward to be of +use in the world!" + +"Adam is idly inclined. I am sorry for it, but it is so. One thing has +been against him, and that's his health. He's as tall and strong a +young fellow to look at as you'd meet in a summer's day, but he is, I +fear, anything but sound in constitution. A nice fellow too, Joseph." + +"Of good disposition?" + +"Very. We had used to be almost afraid of him as a boy; he would put +himself into such unaccountable fits of passion. Just as--as--somebody +else used to do, you know, Joseph," added the sailor with some +hesitation. + +Sir Joseph nodded. The somebody else was the captain's wife, and +Adam's mother. Sir Joseph's own wife was not exempt from the same kind +of failing: but in a less wild degree than Mrs. Andinnian. With her +the defects of temper partook more of the nature of sullenness. + +"But Adam seems to have outgrown all that: I've seen and heard nothing +of it since he came to manhood," resumed the captain. "I wish from my +heart he had some profession to occupy him. His mother always filled +him up with the notion that he would be your heir and not want it." + +"He'll be my heir, in all senses, safe enough, Harry: though I'd +rather have heard he was given to industry than idleness. How does he +get through his time? Young men naturally seek some pursuit as an +outlet for their superfluous activity." + +"Adam has a pursuit that he makes a hobby of; and that is his love of +flowers; in fact his love of gardening in any shape. He'll be out +amidst the plants and shrubs from sunrise to sunset. Trained to it, +he'd have made a second Sir Joseph Paxton. I should like you to see +him: he is very handsome." + +"And the young one--what is he like? What's his name by the way? +Henry?" + +"No. Karl." + +"_Karl?_" repeated Sir Joseph in surprise, as if questioning whether +he heard aright. + +"Ay, Karl. His mother was in Germany when he was born, it being a +cheap place to live in--I was only a poor lieutenant then, Joseph, and +just gone off to be stationed before the West Indies. A great friend +of hers, there, some German lady, had a little boy named Karl. My wife +fell in love with the name, and called her own infant after it." + +"Well, it sounds an outlandish name to me," cried the baronet, who was +entirely unacquainted with every language but his own. + +"So I thought, when she first wrote me word," assented Captain +Andinnian. "But after I came home and got used to call the lad by it, +you don't know how I grew to like it. The name gains upon your favour +in a wonderful manner, Joseph: and I have heard other people say the +same. It is Charles in English, you know." + +"Then why not call him Charles?" + +"Because the name is really Karl, and not Charles. He was baptized in +Germany, but christened in England, and in both places it was done as +'Karl.' His mother has never cared very much for him." + +"For him or his name, do you mean?" + +"Oh, for him." + +Sir Joseph opened his eyes. "Why on earth not?" + +"Because all the love her nature's capable of--and in her it's +tolerably strong--is given to Adam. She can't spare an atom from him: +her love for him is as a kind of idolatry. For one thing, she was very +ill when Karl was born, and neither nursed nor tended him: he was +given over to the care of her sister who lived with her, and who had +him wholly, so to say, for the first three years of his life." + +"And what's Karl like?" repeated Sir Joseph. + +"You ought to see him," burst forth the Captain with animation. "He's +everything that's good and noble arid worthy. Joseph, there are not +many young men of the present day so attractive as Karl." + +"With a tendency to be passionate, like his brother?" + +"Not he. A tendency to patience, rather. They have put upon him at +home--between ourselves; kept him down, you know; both mother and +brother. He is several years younger than Adam; but they are attached +to each other. A more gentle-natured, sweet-tempered lad than Karl +never lived: all his instincts are those of a gentleman. He will make +a brave soldier. He is ensign in the -- regiment." + +"The -- regiment," repeated Sir Joseph. "Rather a crack corps that, is +it not?" + +"Yes: Karl has been lucky. He will have to make his own way in the +world, for I can't give him much. But now that I am assured of your +intentions as to Adam, things look a trifle brighter. Joseph, I thank +you with all my heart." + +Once more the brothers clasped hands. This reunion was the pleasantest +event of their later lives. The captain remained two days at Foxwood. +Lady Andinnian was civilly courteous to him, but never cordial. She +did not second her brother's pressing wish that he should prolong his +stay: neither did she once ask after any of his family. + +Captain Andinnian's death took place, as anticipated. His will, when +opened, proved to be what was mentioned above. Some years had gone by +since. Mrs. Andinnian and her son Adam had continued to live together +in their quiet home in Northamptonshire; Karl, lieutenant now, and +generally with his regiment, paying them an occasional visit. No +particular change had occurred, save the death of Lady Andinnian. The +families had continued to be estranged as heretofore: for never a word +of invitation had come out of Foxwood. Report ran that Sir Joseph was +ailing much; very much indeed since the loss of his wife. And, now, +that so much of introduction is over, we can go on with the story. + + +A beautiful day in April. At a large window thrown open to the mid-day +sun, just then very warm and bright, sat a lady of some five and fifty +years. A tall, handsome, commanding woman, resolution written in every +line of her haughty face. She wore a black silk gown with the +slightest possible modicum of crape on it, and the guipure cap--or, +rather, the guipure lappets, for of cap there was not much to be +seen--had in it some black ribbon. Her purple-black hair was well +preserved and abundant still; her black eyes were stern, and +fearlessly honest. It was Mrs. Andinnian. + +She was knitting what is called a night-sock. Some poor sick pensioner +of hers or her son's--for both had their charities--needed the +comfort. Her thoughts were busy; her eyes went fondly out to the far +end of the garden, where she could just discern her son against the +shrubs: the fairest and dearest sight to Mrs. Andinnian that earth had +ever contained for her, or ever would contain. + +"It is strange Sir Joseph does not write for him," ran her +thoughts--and they very often did run in the same groove. "I cannot +imagine why he does not. Adam ought to be on the spot and get +acquainted with his inheritance: his uncle must know he ought. But +that I have never stooped to ask a favour in my life, I would write to +Sir Joseph, and proffer a visit for Adam, and--for--yes, for me. +During that woman's lifetime Adam was not likely to be welcomed there: +but the woman's gone: it is two months this very day since she died." + +The woman, thus unceremoniously alluded to, was Lady Andinnian: and +the slight mourning, worn, was for her. Some intricacy in the knitting +caused Mrs. Andinnian to bend her head: when she looked up again, her +son was not to be seen. At the same moment, a faint sound of distant +conversation smote her ear. The work dropped on her lap; with a look +of annoyance she lifted her head to listen. + +"He is talking to that girl again! I am sure of it." + +Lift her head and her ears as she would, she could not tell positively +whose voices they were. Instinct, however, that instinct of suspicion +we all feel within us on occasion, was enough. + +A very respectable manservant of middle age, thoughtful in face, fair +in complexion, with a fringe of light hair round the sides of his +otherwise bald head, entered the room and presented a note to his +mistress. "Who is it from?" she asked as she took it off the silver +waiter. An old waiter, bearing the Andinnian crest. + +"Mrs. Pole's housemaid has brought it, ma'am. She is waiting for an +answer." + +It was but a friendly note of invitation from a neighbour, asking Mrs. +Andinnian and her two sons to go in that evening. For Karl, the second +son, had come home for a two days' visit, and was just then writing +letters in another room. + +"Yes, we will go--if Adam has no engagement," said Mrs. Andinnian to +herself, but half aloud. "Hewitt, go and tell Mr. Andinnian that I +wish to speak with him." + +The man went across the garden and through the wilderness of shrubs. +There stood his master at an open gate, talking to a very pretty girl +with bright hair and rosy cheeks. + +"My mistress wishes to see you, Mr. Adam." + +Adam Andinnian turned round, a defiant expression on his haughty face, +as if he did not like the interruption. He was a very fine man of some +three-and-thirty years, tall and broad-shouldered, with his mother's +cast of proud, handsome features, her fresh complexion, and her black +hair. His eyes were dark grey; deeply set in the head, and rarely +beautiful. His teeth also were remarkably good; white, even, and +prominent, and he showed them very much. + +"Tell my mother I'll come directly, Hewitt." + +Hewitt went back with the message. The young lady who had turned to +one of her own flower-beds, for the gardens joined, was bending over +some budding tulips. + +"I think they will be out next week, Mr. Andinnian," she looked round +to say. + +"Never mind the tulips," he answered after a pause, during which he +had leaned on the iron railings, looking dark and haughty. "I want to +hear more about this." + +"There's nothing more to hear," was the young lady's answer. + +"That won't do, Rose. Come here." + +And she went obediently. + +The house to which this other garden belonged was a humble, +unpretending dwelling, three parts cottage, one part villa. A Mr. +Turner lived in it with his wife and niece. The former was in good +retail business in the town: a grocer: and he and his wife were as +humble and unpretending as their dwelling. The niece, Rose, was +different. Her father had been a lawyer in small local practice: and +at his death Rose--her mother also dead--was taken by her uncle and +aunt, who loved both her and her childish beauty. Since then she had +lived with them, and they educated her well. She was a good girl: and +in the essential points of mind, manner, and appearance, a lady. But +her position was of necessity a somewhat isolated one. With the +tradespeople of the town Rose Turner did not care to mix: she felt +that, however worthy, they were beneath her: quite of another order +altogether: on the other hand, superior people would not associate +with Miss Turner, or put so much as the soles of their shoes over the +doorsill of the grocer's house. At sixteen she had been sent to a +finishing school: at eighteen she came back as pretty and as nice a +girl as one of fastidious taste would wish to see. + +Years before, Adam and Karl Andinnian had made friends with the little +child: they continued to be intimate with her as brothers and sister. +Latterly, it had dawned on Mrs. Andinnian's perception that Adam and +Miss Turner were a good deal together; certainly more than they need +be. Adam had even come to neglect his flowers, that he so much loved, +and to waste his time talking to Rose. It cannot be said that Mrs. +Andinnian feared any real complication--any undesirable result of any +kind; the great difference in their ages might alone have served to +dispel the notion: Adam was thirty-three; Miss Turner only just out of +her teens. But she was vexed with her son for being so frivolous and +foolish: and, although she did not acknowledge it to herself, a vague +feeling of uneasiness in regard to it lay at the bottom of her heart. +As to Adam, he kept his thoughts to himself. Whether this new +propensity to waste his hours with Miss Turner arose out of mere +pastime, or whether he entertained for her any warmer feeling, was, +his own secret. + +Things--allowing for argument's sake that there was some love in the +matter--were destined not to go on with uninterrupted smoothness. +There is a proverb to the effect, you know. During the last few weeks +a young medical student, named Martin Scott, had become enamoured of +Miss Turner. At first, he had confined himself to silent admiration. +Latterly he had taken to speaking of it. Very free-mannered, after the +fashion of medical students of graceless nature, he had twice snatched +a kiss from her: and the young lady, smarting under the infliction, +indignant, angry, had this day whispered the tale to Adam Andinnian. +And no sooner was it done, than she repented: for the hot fury that +shone out of Mr. Andinnian's face, startled her greatly. + +They were standing together again at the small iron gate, ere the +sound of Hewitt's footsteps had well died away. Rose Turner had the +true golden hair that ladies have taken to covet and spend no end of +money on pernicious dyes to try and obtain. Her garden hat was untied, +and she was playing with its strings. + +"Rose, I must know all; and I insist upon your telling me. Go on." + +"But indeed I have told you all, Mr. Andinnian." + +Mr. Andinnian gazed steadfastly into Miss Rose's eyes, as if he would +get the truth out of their very depths. It was evident that she now +spoke unwillingly, and only in obedience to his strong will. + +"It was last night, was it, that he came up, this brute of a Scott?" + +"Last night, about six," she answered. "We were at tea, and my aunt +asked him to take some--" + +"Which he did of course?" savagely interrupted Mr. Andinnian. + +"Yes; and eat two muffins all to himself," laughed Miss Turner, trying +to turn the anger off. Mr. Andinnian did not like the merriment. + +"Be serious if you please, child; this is a serious matter. Was it +after tea that he--that he dared to insult you?" and the speaker shut +his right hand with a meaning gesture as he said it. + +"Yes. Aunt went to the kitchen to see about something that was to be +prepared for my uncle's supper--for she is fidgety over the cooking, +and never will trust it to the servant. Martin Scott then began to +tease as usual; saying how much he cared for me, and asking me to wait +for him until he could get into practice." + +"Well?" questioned Adam impatiently as she stopped. + +"I told him that he had already had his answer from me and that he had +no right to bring the matter up again; it was foolish besides, as it +only set me more against him. Then I sat down to the piano and played +the Chatelaine--he only likes rattling music--and sang a song, +thinking it would pass the time in peace until aunt returned. +By-and-by I heard my uncle's latch-key in the front door, and I was +crossing the room to go out and meet him, when Martin Scott laid hold +of my arm, and--and kissed me." + +Mr. Andinnian bit his lips almost to bleeding. His face was frightful +in its anger. Rose shivered a little. + +"I am sorry I told you, Mr. Andinnian." + +"Now listen, Rose. If ever this Martin Scott does the like again, I'll +shoot him." + +"Oh, Mr. Andinnian!" + +"I shall warn him. In the most unmistakable words; words that he +cannot misconstrue; I will warn him of what I mean to do. Let him +disregard it at his peril; if he does, I'll shoot him as I would shoot +a dog." + +The very ferocity of the threat, its extreme nature, disarmed Miss +Turner's belief in it. She smiled up in the speaker's face and shook +her head, but was content to let the subject pass away in silence. +Adam Andinnian, totally forgetting his mother's message, began talking +of pleasanter things. + +Meanwhile, Mrs. Andinnian's patience was growing exhausted: she hated +to keep other people's servants waiting her pleasure. Her fingers were +on the bell to ring for Hewitt, when Karl entered the room, some +sealed letters in his hand. A slender man of seven-and-twenty, +slightly above the middle height, with pale, clearly-cut features and +a remarkably nice expression of countenance. He had the deeply-set, +beautiful grey eyes of his brother; but his hair, instead of being +black and straight, was brown and wavy. An attractive looking man, +this Karl Andinnian. + +"I am going out to post these letters," said Karl. "Can I do anything +for you in the town, mother?" + +The voice was attractive too. Low-toned, clear, melodious, full of +truth: a voice to be trusted all over the world. Adam's voice was +inclined to be harsh, and he had rather a loud way of speaking. + +"Nothing in the town," replied Mrs. Andinnian: and, now that you +notice it, _her_ voice was harsh too. "But you can go and ask your +brother why he keeps me waiting. He is behind the shrubbery." + +Karl left his letters on the table, traversed the garden, and found +Adam with Miss Turner. They turned to wait his approach. A half doubt, +he knew not wherefore, dawned for the first time on his mind. + +"How are you this morning, Rose?" he asked, raising his hat with the +ceremony one observes to an acquaintance, rather than to an intimate +friend. "Adam, the mother seems vexed: you are keeping her waiting, +she says, and she wishes to know the reason of it." + +"I forgot all about it," cried Adam. "Deuce take the thorn!" + +For just at that moment he had run a thorn into his finger. Karl began +talking with Miss Turner: there was no obligation on _him_ to return +forthwith to the house. + +"Go back, will you, Karl, and tell the mother I am sorry I forgot it. +I shall be there as soon as you are." + +"A genteel way of getting rid of me," thought Karl with a laugh, as he +at once turned to plunge into the wide shrubbery. "Good day to you, +Rose." + +But when he was fairly beyond their sight Karl's face became grave as +a judge's. "Surely Adam is not drifting into anything serious in that +quarter!" ran his thoughts. "It would never do." + +"Well--have you seen Adam!" began Mrs. Andinnian, when he entered. + +"Yes. He is coming immediately." + +"_Coming!_"--and she curled her vexed lips. "He ought to _come_. Who +is he with, Karl?" + +"With Miss Turner." + +"What nonsense! Idling about with a senseless child!" + +"I suppose it _is_ nothing but nonsense?" spoke Karl, incautiously. +"She--Miss Turner--would scarcely be the right woman in the right +place." + +His mother glanced at him sharply. "In _what_ place?--what woman?" + +"As Lady Andinnian." + +Karl had angered his mother before in his lifetime, but scarcely ever +as now. She turned livid as death, and took up the first thing that +came to her hand--a silver inkstand, kept for show, not use--and held +it as if she would hurl it at his head. + +"How _dare_ you, sir, even in supposition, so traduce your brother?" + +"I beg your pardon, mother. I spoke without thought." + +As she was putting down the inkstand, Adam came in. He saw that +something was amiss. Mrs. Andinnian spoke abruptly about the +invitation for the evening, and asked if he would go. Adam said he +could go, and she left the room to give, herself, a verbal answer to +the waiting servant. + +"What was the matter, Karl?" + +"The mother was vexed at your staying with Rose Turner, instead of +coming in. It was nonsense, she said, to be idling about with a +senseless child. I--unfortunately, but quite unintentionally--added to +her anger by remarking that I supposed it _was_ nonsense, for she, +Miss Turner, would scarcely be suitable for a Lady Andinnian." + +"Just attend to your own affairs," growled Adam. "Keep yourself in +your place." + +Karl looked up with his sweet smile; answering with his frank and +gentle voice. The smile and the voice acted like oil on the troubled +waters. + +"You know, Adam, that I should never think of interfering with you, or +of opposing your inclinations. In the wide world, there's no one, I +think, so anxious as I am for your happiness and welfare." + +Adam did know it, and their hands met in true affection. Few brothers +loved each other as did Adam and Karl Andinnian. Seeing them together +thus, they were undoubtedly two fine young men--as their sailor father +had once observed to his brother. But Karl, with his nameless air of +innate goodness and refinement, looked the greater gentleman. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +Lucy Cleeve. + + +Lingering under the light of the sweet May moon, arm within arm, their +voices hushed, their tread slow, went two individuals, whom few, +looking upon them, could have failed to mistake for anything but +lovers. Lovers they were, in heart, in mind, in thought: with as pure +and passionate and ardent a love as ever was felt on this earth. And +yet, no word, to tell of it, had ever been spoken between them. + +It was one of those cases where love, all unpremeditated, had grown +up, swiftly, surely, silently. Had either of them known that they were +drifting into it, they might have had sufficient prudence to separate +forthwith, before the danger grew into certainty. For he, the obscure +and nearly portionless young soldier, had the sense to see that he +would be regarded as no fit match for the daughter of Colonel and the +Honourable Mrs. Cleeve; both of high lineage and inordinately proud of +it into the bargain; and she, Lucy Cleeve, knew that, for all her good +descent, she was nearly portionless too, and that her future husband, +whomsoever he might turn out to be, must possess a vast deal more of +this world's goods than did Lieutenant Andinnian. Ay, and of family +also. But, there it was: they had drifted into this mutual love +unconsciously: each knew that it was for all time: and that, in +comparison, "family" and "goods" were to them as nothing. + +"And so Miss Blake is back, Lucy?" + +The words, spoken by Mr. Andinnian, broke one of those long pauses of +delicious silence, that in themselves seem like tastes of paradise. +Lucy Cleeve's tones in answer were low and soft as his. + +"She came to-day. I hardly knew her. Her hair is all put on the top of +her head: and--and--" + +Lucy stopped. "And is of another colour," she had been about to +conclude. But it might not be quite good-natured to say it, even to +one to whom she would willingly have given her whole heart's +confidence. Reared in the highest of all high and true principles, and +naturally gifted with them, Lucy had a peculiar dread of deceit: her +dislike of it extended even to the changing of the colour of the hair. +But she was also of that sweet and generous disposition that shrinks +from speaking a slighting word of another. She resumed hastily and +with a slight laugh. + +"Theresa is in love with Rome; and especially with its cardinals. One +of them was very civil to her, Karl." + +"About this picnic to-morrow, Lucy. Are you to be allowed to go?" + +"Yes, now Theresa's here. Mamma would not have liked to send me +without some one from home: and the weather is scarcely hot enough for +herself to venture. Do--you--go" she asked timidly. + +"Yes." + +There was silence again: each heart beating in unison. The prospect of +a whole day together, spent amidst glens, and woods, and dales, was +too much for utterance. + +For the past twelve months, Lieutenant Andinnian's regiment had been +quartered at Winchester. On his arrival, he had brought with him a +letter of introduction to one of the clergy there--a good old man, +whose rectory was on the outskirts of the town. The Rev. Mr. Blake and +his wife took a great fancy to the young lieutenant, and made much of +him. Living with them at that time was a relative, a Miss Blake. This +lady was an orphan: she had a small fortune, somewhere between two and +three hundred a year: and she stayed sometimes with the Blakes, +sometimes with the Cleeves, to whom she and the Blakes were likewise +related. + +A novel writer has to tell secrets: not always pleasant ones. In this +case, it must be disclosed that the one secret wish of Theresa Blake's +life, to which her whole energies (in a lady-like way) were directed, +was--to get married, and to marry well. If we could see into the +hearts of some other young ladies, especially when they have left the +bloom of youth behind, we might find them filled with the same ardent +longing. Hitherto Miss Blake's hopes had not been realized. She was +not foolish enough to marry downright unwisely: and nothing eligible +had come in her way. Considering that she was so very sensible a young +woman--for good common sense was what Miss Blake prided herself +upon--it was very simple of her to take up the notion she did--that +the attractive young lieutenant's frequent visits to the rectory were +made for her sake. She fell over head and ears in love with him: she +thought that his attentions (ordinary attentions in truth, and paid to +her as the only young lady of a house where the other inmates were +aged) spoke plainly of his love for her. Of what are called +"flirtations" Theresa Blake had had enough, and to spare: but of true +love she had hitherto known nothing. She ignored the difference in +their years--for there was a difference--and she waited for the time +when the young officer should speak out: her income joined to his and +his pay, would make what she thought they could live very comfortably +upon. Love softens difficulties as does nothing else in life; before +she knew Karl Andinnian, Miss Blake would have scorned the notion of +taking any man who could not have offered her a settlement of a +thousand pounds a year at least. + +But now--what was Karl Andinnian's share in all this? Simply none. +He had no more notion that the young lady was in love with him than +that old Mrs. Blake was. If Miss Blake did not see the years she had +come to, he did; and would nearly as soon, so far as age went, have +offered to marry his mother. To a young man of twenty-six, a woman of +thirty-four looks quite old. And so, in this misapprehension--the one +finding fresh food for her hopes day by day, the other at ease in his +utter unconsciousness--the summer and autumn had passed. At the close +of autumn Miss Blake departed with some friends for the Continent, +more particularly to visit Paris and Rome. But that it was a +long-since-made engagement, and also that she had so wished to see +those renowned places, she would not have torn herself away from the +locality that contained Mr. Andinnian. + +Shortly afterwards the Cleeves returned to Winchester, after a long +absence. They resided without the town, just beyond Mr. Blake's +rectory. Lucy Cleeve had been in the habit of spending nearly as much +time at the rectory as at home: and it was from the never-tiring +training of him and his good wife that Lucy had learnt to be the truly +excellent girl she was. On the very day of her return, she and Karl +Andinnian met: and--if it was not exactly love at first sight with +them, it was something very like it; for each seemed drawn to the +other by that powerful, sympathetic attraction that can no more be +controlled than explained or accounted for. A few more meetings, and +they loved for all time: and since then they had gone on living in a +dream of happiness. + +There they were, pacing together the rectory garden under the warm May +moonlight. The rector had been called to a sick parishioner, and they +had strolled out with him to the gate. Mrs. Blake, confined to her +sofa, was unsuspicious as the day. Lucy, twenty 'years of age, was +looked upon by her as a child still: and the old are apt to forget the +sweet beguilements of their own long-past youth, and that the young of +the present day can be drifting into the same. + +"It is very pleasant; quite warm," spoke Mr. Andinnian. "Would you +like another turn, Lucy?" + +They both turned simultaneously without a word of assent from her, and +paced side by side to the gate in a rapture of silence. Lucy quitted +him to pluck a spray from the sweet-briar hedge; and then they turned +again. The moon went behind a cloud. + +"Take my arm, Lucy. It is getting quite dark." + +She took it; the darkness affording the plea; and the night hid the +blushes on her transparent cheeks. They were half-way down the walk, +and Karl was bending his head to speak to her; his tones low, though +their subject was nothing more than the projected party for the +morrow; when some one who had approached the gate from the road, stood +still there to look at them. + +It was Miss Blake. She had that day returned from her continental +excursion, and taken up her abode, as arranged, at Colonel Cleeve's. +Whether at the rectory or at Colonel Cleeve's, Miss Blake paid at the +rate of one hundred a year for the accommodation; and then, as she +said, she was independent. It was a private arrangement, one that she +insisted on. Her sojourn abroad had not tended to cool one whit of her +love for Mr. Andinnian; the absence had rather augmented it. She had +come home with all her pulses bounding and her heart glowing at the +prospect of seeing him again. + +But--she saw him with some one else. The moon was out again in all her +silvery brightness, and Miss Blake had keen eyes. She saw one on his +arm, to whom he seemed to be whispering, to whose face his own was +bent; one younger and fairer than she--Lucy Cleeve. A certain +possibility of what it might mean darted through her mind with a +freezing horror that caused her to shiver. But only for a moment. She +drove it away as absurd--and opened, the gate with a sharp click. They +turned at the sound of her footsteps and loosed arms. Mr. Andinnian +doffed his hat in salutation, and held out his hand. + +"Miss Blake!" + +"I came with old John to fetch you, Lucy, wishing to see dear Mrs. +Blake," she carelessly said in explanation, letting her hand lie in +Karl's, as they turned to the house. "And it is a lovely night." + +Coming into the light of the sitting-room you could see what Miss +Blake was like--and Lucy, also, for that matter. Miss Blake was tall, +upright; and; if there was a fault in her exceedingly well-made +figure, it was that it was too thin. Her features and complexion +were very good, her eyes were watchful and had a green tinge; and +the hair originally red, had been converted into a kind of auburn that +had more than one shade of colour on it. Altogether, Miss Blake was +nice-looking; and she invariably dressed well, in the height of any +fashion that might prevail. What with her well-preserved face, her +large quantity of youthful hair, and her natty attire, she had an idea +that she looked years and years less than her real age; as in fact she +did. + +And Lucy? Lucy was a gentle girl with a soft, sweet face; a face of +intellect, and goodness, and sensibility. Her refined features were of +the highest type; her clear eyes were of a remarkably light brown, the +long eyelashes and the hair somewhat darker. By the side of the +upright and always self-possessed Miss Blake--I had almost written +self-asserting--she looked a timid shrinking child. What with Miss +Blake's natural height and the unnatural pyramid of hair on the top +of her head, Lucy appeared short. But Lucy was not below the middle +height of women. + +"I wonder--I wonder how much he has seen of Lucy?" thought Miss Blake, +beginning to watch and to listen, and to put in prompting questions +here and there. + +She contrived to gather that the lieutenant had been a tolerably +frequent visitor at Colonel Cleeve's during the spring. She +observed--and Miss Blake's observance was worth having--that his good +night to Lucy was spoken in a different tone from the one to herself: +lower and softer. + +"There _cannot_ be anything between them! There cannot, surely, be!" + +Nevertheless the very thought of it caused her face to grow cold as +with a mortal sickness. + +"I shall see to-morrow," she murmured. "They will be together at the +picnic, and I shall see." + +Miss Blake did see. Saw what, to her jealous eyes--ay, and to her cool +ones; was proof positive. Lieutenant Andinnian and Miss Lucy Cleeve +were lost in love the one for the other. In her conscientious desire +to do her duty--and she did hope and believe that no other motive or +passion prompted the step--Miss Blake, looking upon herself as a sort +of guardian over Lucy's interests, disclosed her suspicions to Mrs. +Cleeve. What would be a suitable match for herself, might be entirely +unsuitable for Lucy. + + +Colonel Augustus and the Honourable Mrs. Cleeve were very excellent +people, as people go: their one prominent characteristic--perhaps some +would rather call it failing--being family pride. Colonel Cleeve could +claim relationship, near or remote, with three lords and a Scotch +duke: Mrs. Cleeve was a peer's daughter. Their only son was in India +with his regiment: their only daughter, introduced and presented but +the last year, was intended to make a good marriage, both as regards +rank and wealth. They knew what a charming girl she was, and they +believed she could not fail to be sought. One gentleman, indeed, had +asked for her in London; that is, had solicited of the Colonel the +permission to ask for her. He was a banker's son. Colonel Cleeve +thanked him with courtesy, but said that his daughter must not marry +beneath her own rank: he and her mother hoped she would be a peeress. +It may therefore be judged what was the consternation caused, when +Miss Blake dropped a hint of her observations. + +The remark already made, as to Mrs. Blake's blind unsuspicion, held +good in regard to Colonel Cleeve and his wife. They had likewise taken +a fancy to the attractive young lieutenant and were never backward in +welcoming him to their house. _And yet they never glanced at Lucy's +interests in the matter;_ they never supposed that she likewise could +be awake to the same attractions; or that her attractions had charms +for the lieutenant. How frequent these cases of blindness occur in the +world, let the world answer. Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve would as soon +have suspected that Lucy was falling in love with the parish clerk. +And why? Because the notion that any one, so much beneath them in +family and position as Mr. Andinnian, should aspire to her, or that +she could stoop to think of him, never would have entered into their +exclusive imaginations, unless put there. + +Mrs. Cleeve, dismayed, sick, frightened, but always mild and gentle, +begged of Lucy to say that it was a cruel mistake; and that there was +"nothing" between her and Mr. Andinnian. Lucy, amidst her blinding +tears, answered that nothing whatever had been spoken between them. +But she was too truthful, too honest, to deny the implication that +there existed love: Colonel Cleeve sent for Mr. Andinnian. + +The young man was just coming in from a full-dress parade when the +note arrived. It was a peremptory one. He walked up at once, not +staying to put off his regimentals. Colonel Cleeve, looking the +thorough gentleman he was, and wearing his customary blue frock-coat +with a white cambric frill at his breast, met him at the door of his +library. He was short and slight, and had mild blue eyes. His white +hair was cut nearly close, and his forehead and head were so fair that +at first sight it gave him the appearance of being powdered. The +servant closed the door upon them. + +That Karl Andinnian was, as the phrase runs, "taken to" by the plain +questioning of the Colonel cannot be denied. It was plunged into +without preface. "Is it true that there is an attachment between you +and my daughter? Is it true, sir, that you have been making love to +her?" + +For a short while Karl was silent. The Colonel saw his embarrassment. +It was only the momentary embarrassment of surprise, and, perhaps, of +vexation: but Karl, guileless and strictly honourable, never thought +of not meeting the matter with perfect truth. + +"That there does exist affection between me and your daughter, sir, I +cannot deny," he replied with diffidence. "At least, I can answer for +myself--that the truest and tenderest love man is, or, as I believe, +can be, capable of I feel for her. As to making love to her, I have +not done it consciously. But--we have been a great deal together; and +I fear Miss Cleeve must have read my heart, as--as----" + +"As what, Mr. Andinnian?" was the stern question. + +"As I have read hers, I was going to presume to say," replied Karl, +his voice and eyes alike drooping. + +Colonel Cleeve felt confounded. He would have called this the very +height of impudence, but the young man standing before him was so +indisputably refined, so modest, and spoke as though he were grieved +to the heart. + +"And, pray, what could you have promised yourself by thus presuming to +love my daughter?" + +"I promised myself nothing. On my word of honour as a gentleman, sir, +I have not been holding out any kind of hopes or promises to myself. I +believe," added the young man, with the open candour so characteristic +of him, "that I have been too happy in the present, in Miss Cleeve's +daily society--for hardly a day passed that we did not see each +other--to cast so much as a thought to the future." + +"Well, sir, what excuse have you to make for this behaviour? Do you +see its folly?" + +"I see it now. I see it for the first time, Colonel Cleeve. +For--I--suppose--you will not let me aspire to win her?" + +The words were given with slow deprecation: as if he hardly dared to +speak them. + +"What do you think, yourself, about it?" sharply asked the Colonel. +"Do you consider yourself a suitable match for Miss Cleeve? In _any_ +way? In _any_ way, Mr. Andinnian?" + +"I am afraid not, sir." + +"You are _afraid_ not! Good Heavens! Your family--pardon me for +alluding to it, Mr. Andinnian, but there are moments in a lifetime, +and this is one, when plain speaking becomes a necessity. Your family +have but risen from the ranks, sir, as we soldiers say, and not much +above the ranks either. Miss Cleeve _is_ Miss Cleeve: my daughter, and +a peer's grand-daughter." + +"It is all true, sir." + +"So much for that unsuitability. And then we come to means. What are +yours, Mr. Andinnian?" + +The young man lifted his head and his honest grey eyes to the +half-affrighted but generally calm face. He could but tell the truth +at all times without equivocation. + +"I fear you will consider my means even more ineligible than my +family," he said. "I have my pay and two hundred pounds a year. At my +mother's death another two hundred a year will come to me." + +Colonel Cleeve drew down his lips. "And that is all--in the present +and in the future?" + +"All I can reckon upon with any certainty. When my brother shall +succeed Sir Joseph Andinnian, he may do something more for me. My +father suggested it in his last testamentary paper: and I think he +will do it: I believe he will. But of this I cannot be certain; and in +any case it may not be much." + +Colonel Cleeve paused a moment. He wished the young man would not +be so straightforwardly candid, so transparently single-minded, +putting himself, as it were, in all honour in his hands. It left the +Colonel--the mildest man in the world by nature--less loophole to get +into a proper passion. In the midst of it all, he could not help +liking the young fellow. + +"Mr. Andinnian, every word you say only makes the case worse. Two +barriers, each in itself insurmountable, lie, by your own showing, +between you and my daughter. The bare idea of making her your wife is +an insult to her; were it carried into a fact--I condemn myself to +speak of so impossible a thing unwillingly--it would blight her life +and happiness for ever." + +Karl's pale face grew red as his coat. "These are harsh words, Colonel +Cleeve." + +"They are true ones, sir: and justifiable. Lucy has been reared in the +notions befitting her rank. She has been taught to expect that when +she marries her home will be at least as well-appointed as the one she +is taken from. My son is a great expense to me and my means are +limited as compared with my position--I am plain with you, you see, +Mr. Andinnian; you have been so with me--but still we live as our +compeers live, and have things in accordance about us. But what could +_you_ offer Lucy?--allowing that in point of family you were entitled +to mate with her. Why, a lodging in a barracks; a necessity to tramp +with you after the regiment at home and abroad." + +Karl stood silent, the pain of mortification on his closed lips. +Colonel Cleeve put the case rather extremely; but it was near the +truth, after all. + +"And you would wish to bring this disgrace, this poverty, this blight +on Lucy! If you----" + +"No, sir, I would not," was the impulsive interruption. "What do you +take me for? Lucy's happiness is a great deal dearer to me than my +own." + +"If you have one spark of honour, Mr. Andinnian--and until now I +believed you had your full share of it--if you do care in ever so +small a degree for my daughter's comfort and her true welfare; in +short, if you are a man and a gentleman, you will aid me in striving +to undo the harm that has been done." + +"I will strive to do what is best to be done," replied Karl, knowing +the fiat that must come, and feeling that his heart was breaking. + +"Very well. Our acquaintance with you must close from this hour; and I +must ask you to give me your word of honour never to attempt to hold +future communication with my daughter in any way: never to meet her in +society even, if it be possible for you to stay away and avoid it. In +future you and Miss Cleeve are strangers." + +There was a dead silence. Karl seemed to be looking at vacancy, over +the Colonel's head. + +"You do not speak, Mr. Andinnian." + +He roused himself with a sort of shudder. "I believe I was lost in +glancing at the blighted life _mine_ will be, Colonel Cleeve." And the +Colonels in spite of his self-interest, felt a kind of pity for the +feelings that he saw were stung to the quick. + +"Do you refuse to comply with my mandate?" + +"No, sir. Putting the affair before me in the light you have put it, +no alternative is left me. I see, too, that circumstanced as I am--and +as she is--my dream of love has been nothing but madness. On my word +of honour, Colonel Cleeve, could I have looked at the matter at first +as I look at it now, and foreseen that we were destined to--to care +for each other, I would have flown Miss Cleeve's presence." + +"These regrets often come late in the day, Mr. Andinnian," was the +rather sarcastic answer. + +"They have in this case." + +"Then I may rely on your honour?" + +"You may indeed, sir. But that I see how right and reasonable your +fiat is; how essential for Lucy's sake, I could hardly have complied +with it; for to part with her will be rending myself from every joy of +life. I give you my sacred word of honour that I will not henceforth +attempt to hold communication of any kind with her: I will not meet +her if I can avoid it. That I should live to say this calmly!" added +Karl to himself. + +"I expected no less from you, Mr. Andinnian," spoke the Colonel, +stiffly but courteously. "I am bound to say that you have met this +most lamentable affair in a proper spirit. I see I may rely upon you." + +"You may rely upon me as you would rely upon yourself," said the +young officer earnestly. "Should the time ever come that my fortunes +ascend--it seems next door to an impossibility now, but such things +have been heard of--and Lucy be still free----" + +"That could make no alteration: want of fortune is not the only bar," +haughtily interrupted Colonel Cleeve. "The present is enough for us, +Mr. Andinnian: let us leave the future." + +"True. The present is greatly enough; and I beg your pardon, Colonel +Cleeve. I will keep my word both in the spirit and the letter. And +now, I would make one request to you, sir--that you will allow me to +see Lucy for an instant before we finally part." + +"That you may gain some foolish promise from her?--of waiting, or +something of that kind!" was the angry rejoinder. + +"I told you that you might rely upon me," replied Karl with sad +emphasis. "Colonel Cleeve, don't you see what a bitter blow this is to +me?" he burst forth, with an emotion he had not betrayed throughout +the interview. "It may be bitter to Lucy also. Let us say a word of +good-bye to each other for the last time." + +Colonel Cleeve hardly knew what to do. He did not like to say No; he +did not like to say Yes. That it was bitter to one, he saw; that it +might be bitter to the other, he quite believed: and he had a soft +place in his heart. + +"I will trust you in this as I trust you in the other, Mr. Andinnian. +It must be good-bye, only, you understand: and a brief one." + +He quitted the room, and sent Lucy in. Almost better for them both +that he had not done so--for these partings are nearly as cruel as +death. To them both, this severing asunder for all time seemed worse +than death. Lucy, looking quiet and simple in her muslin, stood +shivering. + +"I could not depart without begging you to forgive me, Lucy," Karl +said, his tone less firm than usual with emotion and pain. "I ought to +have exercised more thought; to have foreseen what must be the +inevitable ending. Colonel Cleeve has my promise that I will never +again seek you in any way: that from henceforth we shall be as +strangers. Oh my darling!--I may surely call you so in this last +hour!--this is painful I fear to you as to me." + +She went quite close to him, her eyes cast up to his with a piteous +mourning in their depths; eyes too sad for tears. + +"They have told me the same, Karl. There is no hope at all for us. But +I--I wish in my turn to say something to you. Karl"--and her voice +sank to a whisper, and she put out her hand as if inviting him to take +it--"I shall never forget you; I shall never care for you less than I +do now." + +He did not take her hand. He took her. Almost beside himself with the +bitter pain, Karl Andinnian so far forgot himself as to clasp this +young girl to his heart: as to rain down on her sweet face the sad +kisses from his lips. But he remembered his promise to Colonel Cleeve, +and said never a word of hope for the future. + +"Forgive me, Lucy; this and all. Perhaps Colonel Cleeve would hardly +grudge it to us when it is to be our last meeting on earth." + +"In the years to come," she sobbed, her face lying under his wet +tears, "when we shall be an old man and woman, they may let us meet +again. Oh, Karl, yes! and we can talk together of that best world, +Heaven, where there will be no separation. We shall be drawing near +its gates then, looking out for it." + +A slight tap at the door, and Miss Blake entered. She had come to +summon Lucy. Seeing what she did see--the tears, the emotion, the +intertwined hands, Miss Blake looked--looked very grim and stately. + +"Lucy, Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve have sent me to request you to go to +them." + +"God bless you, Lucy," he whispered. "God bless you, my best and +dearest. Good-bye, for ever." + +With what seemed a cool bow to Miss Blake and never a word, for in +truth he was unequal to speaking it, Lieutenant Andinnian passed into +the hall, caught up his hat and sword that he had left there, and let +himself out, buckling on the latter. Lucy had her hands to her face, +hiding it. Miss Blake waited. + +"My dear Lucy, what am I to say?" + +"Tell them that I wish to stay here alone for a few minutes. Tell them +that Mr. Andinnian is gone." + +Miss Blake, her hard, thin lips compressed with the cruellest pain +woman can ever feel, took her way back again. Only herself knew, or +ever would know, what this dreadful blow was to her--the finding that +she had been mistaken in Karl Andinnian's love. For anguish such as +this women have lost life. One small drop, taking from the bitterness, +there was--to know that he and his true love had bidden each other +adieu for ever. + +"Perhaps--in a few weeks, or months to come--when he shall have +recovered his folly--he and I may be friends again," she murmured. +"Nay--who knows--may even become something warmer and dearer: his +feeling for that child can only be a passing fancy. Something warmer +and dearer," softly repeated Miss Blake, as she traversed the hall. + +"Lucy will come to you presently, Mrs. Cleeve. There's no hurry now: +Mr. Andinnian is gone." + +"What is Lucy doing, Theresa?" + +"Sobbing silently, I think: she scarcely spoke to me. Fancy her being +so foolish!" + +Mrs. Cleeve went at once to the library. She and her husband were as +much alike as possible: mild, good, unemotional people who hated to +inflict pain: with a great love for their daughter, and a very great +sense of their own importance and position in the world, as regarded +pride of birth. + +"Oh, Lucy dear, it was obliged to be. You are reasonable, and must +know it was. But from my very heart I am sorry for you: and I shall +always take blame to myself for not having been more cautious than to +allow you to become intimate with Mr. Andinnian. It seems to me as +though I had been living with a veil before my eyes." + +"It is over now: let it pass," was Lucy's faint answer. + +"Yes, dear, it is over. All over for good. By this time twelvemonth, +Lucy, I hope you will be happily married, and forget this painful +episode in your life. Not, my child, that we shall like to part with +you: only--it will be for your own welfare and happiness." + +Lucy pressed her slender white fingers upon her brow, and looked at +her mother. There was a puzzled, doubting expression in her eyes that +spoke of bewilderment. + +"Mamma," she said slowly, "I think perhaps I did not understand you. I +have parted with Mr. Andinnian, as you and papa wished, and as--as I +suppose it was right I should do; I shall never, I hope, do anything +against your will. But--to try to make me marry will be quite a +different thing. Were you and papa to tell me that you insisted on it, +I could only resist: And I should resist to the end." + +Mrs. Cleeve saw that she had not been wise. To allude to any such +future contingency when Lucy was smarting under the immediate pain of +separation, was a mistake. Sighing gently, she sat down and took her +daughter's hand, stroking it fondly. + +"Lucy, my dear, I will relate to you a little matter of my own early +experience," she began in a hushed tone. "_I_ once had one of the +affairs of the heart, as they are called. The young man was just as +attractive as Mr. Andinnian, and quite worthy. But circumstances were +unfavourable, and we had to part. I thought that all worth living for +in life was over. I said that I should never care for any one else, +and never marry. Not so very long afterwards, Captain Cleeve presented +himself. Before he said a word to me, Lucy, before I knew what he was +thinking of, I had learnt to like and esteem him: and I became his +wife." + +"And did you love him?" questioned Lucy, in great surprise. + +"Oh dear no. Not with the kind of love I had felt for another--the +kind of love that I presume you are feeling for Mr. Andinnian. Such +love never comes back to the heart a second time. But, Lucy, my +married life has been perfectly successful and happy. Once that great +passion is over, you see, the heart is at rest, calmness and reason +have supervened. Rely upon it, my dear, your married life will be all +the happier for this little experience connected with Mr. Andinnian." + +Lucy said no more. _She_ knew. And Mrs. Cleeve thought how dutiful her +daughter was. + +On the following day, a letter came to the Colonel from Karl. A +well-written and sensible letter; not of rebellion, but of +acquiescence. While it deplored his fate in separating from Lucy; it +bowed to the necessity that enforced it. A note was enclosed for Lucy: +it was unsealed, in case the Colonel should wish, to read before +giving it to her. The Colonel did so: he did not fear treason from +Karl, but it was as well to be on the safe side and assure himself +there was none. It contained only a few words, rather more coherent +than Karl's emotion of the previous day had allowed him to speak: and +it bade her adieu for ever. Colonel Cleeve sent both notes to his +daughter, and then lost himself in a reverie: from which he was +aroused by the entrance of his wife. + +"Lucinda, that is really a most superior young man: high-principled, +true-hearted. A pity but he had rank and money." + +"Who is a superior young man?" asked Mrs. Cleeve, not having the clue. + +"Lieutenant Andinnian." + + + + +CHAPTER III. +Done at Sunset. + + +The warm June sun rode gaily in the bright-blue skies, and the sweet +June Roses were in bloom. Mrs. Andinnian, entirely unconscious of the +blight that had fallen on her younger son, was placidly making the +home happiness (as she believed) of the elder. Had she known of Karl's +sorrow, she would have given to it but a passing thought. + +There was peace in the home again. The vexation regarding their young +lady-neighbour had long ago subsided in Mrs. Andinnian's mind. She had +spoken seriously and sharply to Adam upon the point--which was an +entirely new element in his experience; telling him how absurd and +unsuitable it was, that he, one of England's future baronets, and +three-and-thirty years of age already, should waste his hours in +frivolous talk with a girl beneath him. Adam heard her in silence, +smiling a little, and quite docile. He rejoined in a joking tone. + +"All this means, I suppose, mother, that you would not tolerate Miss +Turner as my wife?" + +"Never, Adam, never. You would have to choose between myself and her. +And I have been a loving mother to you." + +"All right. Don't worry yourself. There's no cause for it." + +From this time--the conversation was in April, at the close of Karl's +short visit to them--the trouble ceased. Adam Andinnian either did not +meet the girl so much: or else he timed his interviews more +cautiously. In May Miss Turner went away on a visit: Adam seemed to +have dismissed her from his mind: and Mrs. Andinnian forgot that she +had ever been anxious. + +Never a word of invitation had come from Sir Joseph. During this same +month, May, Mrs. Andinnian, her patience worn out, had written to +Foxwood, proffering a visit for herself and Adam. At the end of a +fortnight's time, she received an answer. A few words of shaky +writing, in Sir Joseph's own hand. He had been very ill, he told her, +which was the cause of the delay in replying, as he wished to write +himself. Now he was somewhat better, and gaining strength. When able +to entertain her and her son--which he hoped would be soon--he should +send for them. It would give him great pleasure to receive them, and +to make the acquaintance of his heir. + +That letter had reached Mrs. Andinnian the first day of June. Some +three week's had elapsed since, and no summons had come. She was +growing just a little impatient again. Morning after morning, while +she dressed, the question always crossed her mind: will there be a +letter to-day from Foxwood? On this lovely June morning, with the +scent of the midsummer flowers wafting in through the open chamber +window, it filled her mind as usual. + +They breakfasted early. Adam's active garden habits induced it. When +Mrs. Andinnian descended, he was in the breakfast-room, scanning the +pages of some new work on horticulture. He wore a tasty suit of grey, +and looked well and handsome: unusually so in his mother's eyes, for +he had only returned the past evening from a few days' roving absence. + +"Good morning, Adam." + +He advanced to kiss his mother: his even white teeth and his grey eyes +as beautiful as they could well be. Mrs. Andinnian's fond and admiring +heart leaped up with a bound. + +"The nonsense people write whose knowledge is superficial!" he said, +with a gay laugh. "I have detected half a dozen errors in this book +already." + +"No doubt. What book is it?" + +He held it out to her, open at the title-page. "I bought it yesterday +at a railway-stall." + +"What a nice morning it is!" observed Mrs. Andinnian, as she was busy +with the cups. + +"Lovely. It is Midsummer Eve. I have been out at work these two +hours." + +"Adam, I think that must be the postman's step," she remarked +presently. "Some one is going round to the door." + +"From Karl, perhaps," he said with indifference, for he had plunged +into his book again. + +Hewitt came in; one letter only on the silver waiter. He presented it +to his master. Adam, absorbed in his pages, took the letter and laid +it on the table without looking up. Something very like a cry from his +mother startled him. She had caught up the letter and was gazing at +the address. For it was one that had never before been seen there. + +"Sir Adam Andinnian, Bart." + +"Oh my son! It has come at last." + +"_What_ has come?" cried he in surprise. "Oh, I see:--Sir Joseph must +be dead. Poor old fellow! What a sad thing!" + +But it was not exactly Sir Joseph's death that Mrs. Andinnian had been +thinking of. The letter ran as follows:-- + + +"FOXWOOD, _June 22nd_. + +"DEAR SIR,-I am truly sorry to have to inform you of the death of my +old friend and many years' patient, Sir Joseph Andinnian. He had been +getting better slowly, but we thought surely; and his death at the +last was sudden and quite unexpected. I have taken upon myself to give +a few necessary orders in anticipation of your arrival here. + +"I am, Sir Adam, very sincerely yours, + +"WILLIAM MOORE. +Sir Adam Andinnian." + + +The breakfast went on nearly in silence. Mrs. Andinnian was deep in +thoughts and plans. Sir Adam, poring over his book while he ate, did +not seem to be at all impressed with the importance of having gained a +title. + +"When shall you start, Adam?" + +"Start?" he returned, glancing up. "For Foxwood? Oh, in a day or two." + +"_In a day or two!_" repeated his mother, with surprised emphasis. +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"Just that, mother." + +"You should be off in half an hour. You must, Adam." + +"Not I. There's no, need of hurry," he added, with careless good +humour. + +"But there is need of it," she answered. + +"Why? Had Sir Joseph been dying and wished to see me, I'd not have +lost a single moment: but it is nothing of the kind, poor man. He is +dead, unfortunately: and therefore no cause for haste exists." + +"Some one ought to be there." + +"Not at all. The Mr. Moore who writes--some good old village doctor, I +conclude--will see to things." + +"But why should you not go at once, Adam?" she persisted. "What is +preventing you?" + +"Nothing prevents me. Except that I hate to be hurried off anywhere. +And I--I only came back to the garden yesterday." + +"The garden!--that's what it is," resentfully thought Mrs. Andinnian. +He read on in silence. + +"Adam, if you do not go, I shall." + +"Do, mother," he said, readily. "Go, if you would like to, and take +Hewitt. I hate details of all kinds, you know; and if you will go, and +take them on yourself, I shall be truly obliged. Write me word which +day the funeral is fixed for, and I will come for it." + +Perhaps in all her life Mrs. Andinnian had never resented anything in +her favourite son as she was resenting this. _She_ had looked forward +to this accession of fortune with an eager anxiety which none could +suspect: and now that it was come, he was treating it with this cool +indifference! Many a time and oft had she indulged a vision of the day +when she should drive in to take possession of Foxwood, her handsome +son, the inheritor, seated beside her. + +"One of my sons ought to be there," she said, coldly. "If you will not +go, Adam, I shall telegraph to Karl." + +"I will telegraph for you," he replied, with provoking good-humour. +"Karl will be the very fellow: he has ten times the head for business +that I have. Let him act for me in all things, exactly as though it +were he who had succeeded: I give him carte blanche. It will save all +trouble to you." + +Sir Adam Andinnian declined to be shaken out of his resolve and his +inertness. In what might be called a temper, Mrs. Andinnian departed +straight from the breakfast-table for the railway-station, to take the +train. Her son duly accompanied her to see her safely away: she had +refused to take Hewitt: and then he despatched a telegram to Karl, +telling him to join his mother at Foxwood. Meantime, while these, the +lady and the message, went speeding on their respective ways, the new +baronet beguiled away the day's passing hours amidst his flowers, and +shot a few small birds that were interfering with some choice +seedlings just springing up. + + +Lieutenant Andinnian received the message promptly. But, following the +fashion much in vogue amidst telegraphic messages, it was not quite as +clear as daylight. Karl read that Sir Joseph was dead, that his mother +was either going or gone to Foxwood; that she was waiting for him, and +he was to join her without delay. But whether he was to join her at +her own home and accompany her to Foxwood, or whether he was to +proceed direct to Foxwood, lay in profound obscurity. The fault was +not in Sir Adam's wording; but in the telegraph people's carelessness. + +"Now which is it that I am to do?" debated Karl, puzzling over the +sprawling words from divers points of view. They did not help him: and +he decided to proceed _home_; he thought his mother must be waiting +for him there. "It must be that," he said: "Adam has gone hastening on +to Foxwood, and the mother is staying for me to accompany her. Poor +Uncle Joseph! And to think that I never once saw him in life!" + +Mr. Andinnian had no difficulty in obtaining leave of absence: and he +started on his journey. He was somewhat changed. Though only a month +had gone by since the severance from Lucy Cleeve, the anguish had told +upon him. His brother officers, noting the sad abstraction he was +often plunged in, the ultra-strict fulfilment of his duties, as if +life were made up of parades and drill and all the rest of it, told +him in joke that he was getting into a bad way. They knew naught of +what had happened; of the fresh spring love that had made his heart +and this earth alike a paradise, or of its abrupt ending. "My poor +horse has had to be shot, you know"--which was a fact; "and I can't +forget him," Mr. Andinnian one day replied, reciprocating the joke. + +The shades of the midsummer night were gathering as Karl neared the +house of his mother. He walked up from the terminus, choosing the +field-path, and leaving his portmanteau to be sent after him. The +glowing fires of the departed sun had left the west, but streaks of +gold where he had set illumined the heavens. The air was still and +soft, the night balmy; a few stars flickered in the calm blue +firmament: the moon was well above the horizon. This pathway over the +fields ran parallel with the high road. As Mr. Andinnian paced it, his +umbrella in his hand, there suddenly broke upon his ears a kind of +uproar, marring strangely the peaceful stillness of the night. Some +stirring commotion, as of a mass of people, seemed to be approaching. + +"What is it, I wonder?" he said to himself: and for a moment or two he +halted and stared over the border of the field and through the +intervening hedge beyond. By what his sight could make out, he thought +some policemen were in front, walking with measured tread; behind came +a confused mob, following close on their heels: but the view was too +uncertain to show this distinctly. + +"Some poor prisoner they are bringing in from the county," thought Mr. +Andinnian, as the commotion passed on towards the town, and he +continued his way. + +"This is a true Midsummer Eve night," he said to himself, when the hum +of the noise and the tramping had died away, and he glanced at the +weird shadows that stood out from hedges and trees. "Just the night +for ghosts to come abroad, and---- Stay, though: it is not on +Midsummer Eve that ghosts come, I think. What is the popular +superstition for the night? Young girls go out and see the shadowy +forms of their future husbands? Is that it? I don't remember. What +matter if I did? Such romance has died out for me." + +He drew near his home. On the left lay the cottage of Mr. Turner. Its +inmates seemed to be unusually astir within it, for lights shone from +nearly every window. A few yards further Karl turned into his mother's +grounds by a private gate. + +Their own house looked, on the contrary, all dark. Karl could not see +that so much as the hall-lamp was lighted. A sudden conviction flashed +over him that he was wrong, after all; that it was to Foxwood he ought +to have gone. + +"My mother and Adam and all the world are off to it, no doubt," he +said as he looked up at the dark windows, after knocking at the door. +"Deuce take the telegraph!" + +The door was opened by Hewitt: Hewitt with a candle in his hand. That +is, the door was drawn a few inches back, and the man's face appeared +in the aperture. Karl was seized with a sudden panic: for he had never +seen, in all his life, a face blanched as that was, or one so full of +horror. + +"What is the matter!" he involuntarily exclaimed, under his breath. + +Ay, what was the matter? Hewitt, the faithful serving man of many +years, threw up his hands when he saw Karl, and cried out aloud before +he told it. His master, Sir Adam, had shot Martin Scott. + +Karl Andinnian stood against the doorpost inside as he listened; stood +like one bereft of motion. For a moment he could put no questions: but +it crossed his mind that Hewitt must be mad and was telling some fable +of an excited brain. + +Not so. It was all too true. Adam Andinnian had deliberately shot the +young medical student, Martin Scott. And Hewitt, poor Hewitt, had been +a witness to the deed. + +"Is he dead!" gasped Karl. And it was the first word he spoke. + +"Stone dead, sir. The shot entered his heart. 'Twas done at sunset. He +was carried into Mr. Turner's place, and is lying there." + +A confused remembrance of the lights he had seen arose to Karl's +agitated brain. He pressed his hand on his brow and stared at Hewitt +For a moment or two, he thought he himself must be going mad. + +"And where is he--my brother!" + +"The police have taken him away, Mr. Karl. Two of them happened to be +passing just at the time." + +And Karl knew that the prisoner he had met in custody, with the +guardians of the law around and the trailing mob, was his brother, Sir +Adam Andinnian. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +The Trial. + + +The tidings of the unfortunate act committed by Adam Andinnian (most +people said it must have been an accident) were bruited abroad far and +wide. Circumstances conspired to give to it an unusual notoriety; and +for more than the traditional nine days it remained a wonder in men's +minds. Sir Adam's recent accession to the family honours; the utter +want of adequate motive; the name of the young lady said to be mixed +up with it: all this tended to arouse the public interest. That a +gentleman of peaceful tendencies, an educated man and new baronet +should take up his gun and shoot another in calm deliberation, was +well nigh incredible. All kinds of reports, true and untrue, were +floating. Public interest was not allowed to flag. Before a sufficient +space of time had elapsed for that, the period of the trial came on. + +Sir Adam Andinnian was not fated, as too many prisoners are, to +languish out months of suspense in prison. The calamity occurred +towards the end of June; the assizes were held in July. Almost before +his final examination by the magistrates had concluded, or the +coroner's inquest (protracted after the fashion of inquests, but in +this case without any sufficient reason) had returned its verdict, the +summer assizes were upon the county. The magistrates had committed Sir +Adam Andinnian to take his trial for wilful murder; the coroner's jury +for manslaughter. + +But now--what effect does the reader suppose this most awful blow must +have had on Mrs. Andinnian? If any one ever deserved commiseration it +was surely she. To every mother it would have been terrible; to her it +was worse than terrible. She loved her son with the love only lavished +on an idol; she had gone forth to his new inheritance in all the pride +of her fond heart, counting every day, ay, and every hour, until he +should gladden it with his presence. If any mortal man stood on a +pinnacle just then above all his fellows in her estimation, that man +was her handsome son, Sir Adam Andinnian. And oh! the desolation that +fell upon her when the son for whom she cared not, Karl, arrived at +Foxwood to break the news. + +And Karl? Hardly less keen, if any, was the blow upon him. Until then, +he did not know how very warm and true was his affection for his +brother. Staggering back to the town the same night after his +interview with Hewitt--and it seemed to Karl Andinnian that he did +really stagger, under the weight of his affliction--he found the +prisoner at the police station, and was allowed to see him. Adam did +not appear to feel his position at all. Karl thought the passion--or +whatever other ill feeling it might have been that prompted him +to the fatal deed--was swaying him still. He was perfectly calm and +self-possessed, and sat quite at ease while the chief of the station +took down sundry reports in writing from the policemen who brought in +the prisoner. + +"I have done nothing that I regret," he said to Karl. "The man has but +got his deserts. I should do it again to-morrow under the same +provocation." + +"But, Adam, think of the consequences to yourself," gasped Karl, +aghast with dismay at this dangerous admission in the hearing of the +officers. + +"Oh, as to consequences, I shall be quite ready to take _them_," +returned the prisoner, drawing himself up haughtily. "I never yet did +aught that I was ashamed to acknowledge afterwards." + +The Inspector ceased writing for a moment and turned round. "Sir Adam +Andinnian, I would advise you for your own sake to be silent. Least +said is soonest mended, you know, sir. A good rule to remember in all +cases." + +"Very good indeed, Walls," readily assented Sir Adam--who had +previously been on speaking terms with the Inspector. "But if you +think I shall attempt to disown what I've done, you are mistaken." + +"It must have been an accident," urged poor Karl in a low tone, almost +as though he were suggesting it. "I told Hewitt so." + +"Hewitt knows better: he saw me take up the gun, level it, and shoot +him," was the reply of Sir Adam, asserted openly. "Look here, Wall. +The fellow courted his fate; _courted_ it. I had assured him that if +he dared to offend in a certain way again, I would shoot him as I'd +shoot a dog. He set me at defiance and did it. Upon that, I carried +out my promise, and shot him. I could not break my word, you know." + +Just then a doubt crossed the Inspector's mind--as he related +afterwards--that Sir Adam Andinnian was not in his right senses. + +"And the mother?" breathed Karl. + +"_There's_ the worst of it," returned Sir Adam, his tone quickly +changing to grave concern. "For her sake, I could almost regret it. +You must go off to Foxwood to-morrow, Karl, and break it to her." + +What a task it was! Never in all Karl's life had one like unto it been +imposed upon him. With the early morning he started for Foxwood: and +it seemed to him that he would rather have started to his grave. + +It was perhaps somewhat singular that during the short period of time +intervening before the trial, Lieutenant Andinnian should have been +gazetted to his company. It gave Karl no pleasure. The rise he had +hoped for, that was to have brought him so much satisfaction, could +now but be productive of pain. If the trial resulted in the awful +sentence--Condemnation--Karl would not of course continue in the army. +No, nor could he with any inferior result; save and except acquittal. +Karl felt this. It was a matter that admitted of no alternative. To +remain one amidst his fellow officers with his only brother disgraced +and punished, was not to be thought of. And Karl would rather have +remained the nameless lieutenant than have been gazetted captain. + +The truest sympathy was felt for him, the utmost consideration +evinced. Leave of absence was accorded him at his request, until the +result of the trial should be known. He wanted his liberty to stand by +his brother, and to make efforts for the defence. Make efforts! When +the accused persisted in openly avowing he was guilty, what efforts +could be made with any hope of success? + +One of the hottest days that July has ever given us was that of the +trial. The county town was filled from end to end: thousands of +curious people had thronged in, hoping to get a place in court; or, at +least, to obtain a sight of the baronet-prisoner. It was reported that +but for the earnest pleadings of his mother there would have been no +trial--Sir Adam would have pleaded guilty. It was whispered that she, +the hitherto proud, overbearing, self-contained woman, went down on +her knees to entreat him not to bring upon his head the worst and most +extreme sentence known to England's law--as the said pleading guilty +would have brought--but to give himself a chance of a more lenient +sentence: perhaps of an acquittal. It was said that Captain Andinnian +would have taken his place in the dock to countenance and stand by his +brother, but was not permitted. + +The trial was unusually short for one involving murder, and unusually +interesting. Immediately after the judge had taken his seat in the +morning, the prisoner was brought in. The crowded court, who had just +risen to do homage to the judge, rose again amidst stir and +excitement. Strangers, straining their eager eyes, saw, perhaps with a +momentary feeling of surprise, as grand a gentleman as any present. A +tall, commanding, handsome man, with a frank expression of countenance +when he smiled, but haughty in repose; his white teeth, that he showed +so much, and his grey eyes beautiful. He wore deep mourning for his +uncle, Sir Joseph; and bowed to the judge with as much stately +ceremony as though he were bowing before the Queen. On one of his +fingers flashed a ring of rare beauty: an opal set round with diamonds +It had descended to him from his father. Captain Andinnian, in deep +mourning also, sat at the table with the solicitors. + +The chief witnesses, it may be said the only ones of consequence, were +Thomas Hewitt the manservant, and Miss Rose Turner. A surgeon spoke to +the cause of death--a shot through the heart--and a policeman or two +gave some little evidence. Altogether not much. The story that came +out to the world through the speeches of counsel, including those for +the defence as well as for the prosecution, may be summed up as +follows: + +Mr. Andinnian (now Sir Adam) had a great friendship for a young lady +neighbour who lived close by, with whom he and his mother had been +intimate, and for whose best interests he had a lively regard. This +was a Miss Rose Turner: a young lady (the counsel emphatically said) +worthy of every consideration, and against whom not a breath of slight +had been, or could be whispered. Some few months ago Miss Turner was +introduced at a friend's house to a medical student (the deceased) +named Martin Scott. It had been ascertained, from inquiries set on +foot since Martin Scott's death, that this man's private pursuits and +character were not at all reputable: but that was of course (the +counsel candidly added) no reason why he should have been killed. In +spite of Miss Turner's strong objection, Martin Scott persisted in +offering her his attentions; and two or three times, to the young +lady's great disgust, he had forcibly kissed her. These facts became +known to Mr. Andinnian: and he, being of a hasty, passionate nature, +unfortunately took up the matter warmly. Indignant that the young lady +should have been subjected to anything so degrading, he sought an +interview with the offender, and told him that if ever he dared to +repeat the insult to Miss Turner, he, Mr. Andinnian, would shoot him. +It appeared, the counsel added, that Mr. Andinnian avowed this in +unmistakable terms; that the unfortunate deceased fully understood him +to mean it, and that Mr. Andinnian would certainly do what he said if +provoked. Proof of which would be given. In spite of all this, Martin +Scott braved his fate the instant he had an opportunity. On the fatal +evening, June the twenty-third, Miss Turner having only just returned +home from an absence of some weeks, Martin Scott made his appearance +at her uncle's house, followed her into the garden, and there, within +sight of Mr. Andinnian (or, rather, Sir Adam Andinnian, for he had +then succeeded to his title, said the counsel, stopping to correct +himself) he rudely took the young lady in his arms, and kissed her +several times. Miss Turner, naturally startled and indignant, broke +from him, and burst into a fit of hysterical sobs. Upon this, the +prisoner caught up his loaded gun and shot him dead: the gun, +unhappily, lying close to his hand, for he had been shooting birds +during the day. Such was the substance of the story, as told to the +court. + +Thomas Hewitt, the faithful serving man, who deposed that he had lived +in the Andinnian family for many years, and who could hardly speak for +the grief within him, was examined. Alas! he was called for the +prosecution: for all his evidence told against his master, not for +him. + +"That evening," he said, "about eight o'clock, or from that to +half-past, I had occasion to see my master, Sir Adam, and went across +the garden and beyond the shrubbery of trees to find him. He was +standing by the gate that divides his grounds from Mr. Turner's; and +all in the same moment, as I came in view, there seemed to be a +scuffle going on in Mr. Turner's wide path by the rose bushes. Just at +first I did not discern who was there, for the setting sun, then going +below the horizon, shone in my face like a ball of fire. I soon saw it +was Miss Turner and Martin Scott. Scott seemed to be holding her +against her will. She broke away from him, crying and sobbing, and ran +towards my master, as if wanting him to protect her." + +"Well?--go on," cried the examining counsel, for the witness had +stopped. "What did you see next?" + +"Sir Adam caught up his gun from the garden seat close by, where it +was lying, presented it at Martin Scott, and fired. The young man +sprang up into the air a foot or two, and then fell. It all passed in +a moment. I ran to assist him, and found he was dead. That is all I +know." + +But the witness was not to be released just yet, in spite of this +intimation. "Wait a bit," said the counsel for the prosecution. "You +saw the prisoner take up the gun, point it at the deceased and fire. +Was all this done deliberately?" + +"It was not done hurriedly, sir." + +"Answer my question, witness. Was it _deliberately_ done?" + +"I think it was. His movements were slow. Perhaps," added poor Hewitt, +willing to suggest a loophole of escape for his master, "perhaps Sir +Adam had forgotten the gun was loaded, and only fired it off to +frighten Scott. It was in the morning he had been shooting the birds: +hours before; he could easily have forgotten that it was loaded. My +master is not a cruel man, but a humane one." + +"How came he to leave the gun out there for so many hours, if he had +done with it?" asked the judge. + +"I don't know, my lord. I suppose he forgot to bring it in when he +came in to dinner. Sir Adam is naturally very careless indeed." + +One of the jury spoke. "Witness, what was it that you wanted with your +master when you went out that evening?" + +"A telegram had come for him, sir, and I went to take it to him." + +"What did the telegram contain? Do you know?" + +"I believe it came from Foxwood, sir." + +"From Foxwood?" + +"The telegram was from my mother, Mrs. Andinnian," spoke up the +prisoner, in his rather loud, but perfectly calm voice, thereby +electrifying the court. "It was to tell me she had arrived safely at +Foxwood Court: and that the day for my uncle Sir Joseph's funeral was +not then fixed." + +The prisoner's solicitor, in a great commotion, leaned over and begged +him in a whisper to be silent. + +"Nay," said the prisoner aloud, "if any information that I can give is +required, why should I be silent?" Surely there had never before been +a prisoner like unto this one! + +The next witness was Rose Turner. She was accompanied by her uncle and +a solicitor; was dressed handsomely in black, and appeared to be in a +state of extreme nervous agitation. Her face was ashy pale, her manner +shrinkingly reluctant, and her voice was so low that its accents could +not always be caught. In the simple matter of giving her name, she had +to be asked it three times. + +Her evidence told little more than had been told by the opening +counsel. + +Mr. Scott had persecuted her with his attentions, she said. He wanted +her to promise to marry him when he should be established in practice, +but she wholly refused, and she begged him to go about his business +and leave her alone. He would not; and her aunt had rather encouraged +Mr. Scott; they did not know what kind of private character he bore, +but supposed of course it was good. Martin Scott had twice kissed her +against her will, very much to her own annoyance; she had told Mr. +Andinnian of it--who had always been very kind to her, quite like a +protector. It made Mr. Andinnian very angry; and he had then +threatened Martin Scott that if he ever again attempted to molest her, +he would shoot him. She was sure that Martin Scott understood that Mr. +Andinnian was not joking, but meant to do what he said. So far, the +witness spoke with tolerable readiness: but after this not a word +would she say that was not drawn from her. Her answers were given +shrinkingly, and some of them with evident reluctance. + +"You went out on a visit in May: where was it to?" questioned the +counsel. + +"Birmingham." + +"How long did you stay there?" + +"I was away from home five weeks altogether." + +"When did you return home?--You must speak a little louder, if you +please." + +"On the evening of the twenty-second of June." + +"That was the day before the murder?" + +"It was not a murder," returned the witness, with emotion. "Sir Adam +Ardinnian was quite justified in what he did." + +The judge interposed. "You are not here to state opinions, young lady, +but to answer questions." The counsel resumed. + +"Did the deceased, Martin Scott, come to your uncle's residence on the +evening of the twenty-third?" + +"Yes. My uncle was at home ill that evening, and he kept Mr. Scott in +conversation, so that he had no opportunity of teasing me." + +"You went later, into the garden?" + +"Yes. Martin Scott must have seen me pass the window, for I found he +was following me out. I saw Sir Adam standing at his gate, and went +towards him." + +"With what motive did you go?" + +A pause. "I intended to tell him that Mr. Scott was there." + +"Had you seen Sir Adam at all since the previous evening?" + +Whether the young lady said Yes or No to this question could not be +told. Her answer was inaudible. + +"Now this won't do," cried the counsel, losing patience. "You must +speak so that the jury can hear you, witness; and you must be good +enough to lift your head. What have you to be ashamed of?" + +At this sting, a bright flush dyed the young lady's pale cheeks: but +she evidently did not think of resisting. Lifting her face, she spoke +somewhat louder. + +"I had seen Sir Adam in the morning when he was shooting the birds. I +saw him again in the afternoon, and was talking with him for a few +minutes. Not for long: some friends called on my aunt, and she sent +for me in." + +"Was anything said about Martin Scott that day, between you and Sir +Adam?" + +"Not a word. We did not so much as think of him." + +"Why, then, were you hastening in the evening to tell Sir Adam that +Scott was there?" + +The witness hesitated and burst into tears. Her answer was impeded by +sobs. + +"Of course it was a dreadful thing for me to do--as things have turned +out. I had no ill thought in it. I was only going to tell him that +Scott had come and was sitting with my uncle. There was nothing in +that to make Sir Adam angry." + +"You have not replied to my question. _Why_ did you hasten to tell Sir +Adam?" + +"There was no very particular cause. Before I left home in May, I had +hoped Mr. Scott had ceased his visits: when I found, by his coming +this evening, that he had not, I thought I would tell Sir Adam. We +both disliked Martin Scott from his rudeness to me. I began to feel +afraid of him again." + +"Afraid of what?" + +"Lest he should be rude to me as he had been before." + +"Allow me to ask--in a case of this sort, would it not have been your +uncle's place to deal with Mr. Scott, rather than Sir Adam +Andinnian's?" + +The witness bent her head, and sobbed. While the prisoner, without +affording her time for any answer, again spoke up. + +"When Martin Scott insulted Miss Turner before, I had particularly +requested her to inform me at once if he ever attempted such a thing +again. I also requested her to let me know of it if he resumed his +visits at her uncle's house. I wished to protect Miss Turner as +efficiently as I would have protected a sister." + +The prisoner was ordered to be silent. Miss Turner's examination went +on. + +"You went out on this evening to speak to the prisoner, and Martin +Scott followed you. What next?" + +"Martin Scott caught me up when I was close to the bed of rose bushes: +that is, about half way between the house and the gate where Sir Adam +was standing. He began reproaching me; saying I had not given him a +word of welcome after my long absence, and did I think he was going to +stand it. Before--before--" + +"Before what? Why do you hesitate?" + +The witness's tears burst forth afresh: her voice was pitiable in its +distress. A thrill of sympathy moved the whole court; not one in it +but felt for her. + +"Before I was aware, Martin Scott had caught me in his arms, and was +kissing my face. I struggled to get away from him, and ran towards Sir +Adam Andinnian for shelter. It was then he took up his gun." + +"What did Sir Adam say?" + +"Nothing. He put me behind him with one hand, and fired. I recollect +seeing Hewitt standing beside me then, and for a few moments I +recollected no more. At first I did not know any harm was done: only +when I saw Hewitt kneeling down in the path over Martin Scott." + +"What did the prisoner do, then?" + +"He put the gun back on the seat again, quite quietly, and walked down +the path towards where they were. My uncle and aunt came running out, +and--and that ended it." + +With a burst of grief that threatened to become hysterical, she +covered her face. Perhaps in compassion, only two or three further +questions of unimportance were asked her. She had told all she knew of +the calamity, she said; and was allowed to retire: leaving the +audience most favourably impressed with the pretty looks, the +innocence, and the modesty of Miss Rose Turner. + +A young man named Wharton was called; an assistant to a chemist, and a +friend of the late Martin Scott. He deposed to hearing Scott speak in +the spring--he thought it was towards the end of April--of Mr. +Andinnian's threat to shoot him. The witness added that he was sure +Martin Scott took the threat as a serious one and knew that Mr. +Andinnian meant it as such; though it was possible that with the lapse +of weeks the impression might have worn away in Scott's mind. He was +the last witness called on either side; and the two leading counsel +then addressed the jury. + +The judge summed up carefully and dispassionately, but not favourably. +As many said afterwards, he was "dead against the prisoner." The jury +remained in deliberation fifteen minutes only, and then came back with +their verdict. + +Wilful murder: but with a very strong recommendation to mercy. + +The judge then asked The prisoner if he had anything to urge against +the sentence of Death that was about to be passed upon him. + +Nothing but this, the prisoner replied, speaking courteously and +quietly. That he believed he had done only his duty: and that Martin +Scott had deliberately and defiantly rushed upon his own fate; and +that if young, innocent, and refined ladies were to be insulted by +reprobate men with impunity, the sooner the country went back to a +state of barbarism the better. To this the judge replied, that if for +trifling causes men might with impunity murder others in cold blood, +the country would already be in a state of barbarism, without going +back to it. + +But the trial was not to conclude without one startling element of +sensation. The judge had put the black cap on his head, when a tall, +proud-looking, handsome lady stepped forward and demanded to say a +word in stay of the sentence. It was Mrs. Andinnian. Waving the ushers +away who would have removed her, she was, perhaps in very +astonishment, allowed to speak. + +Her son had inherited an uncontrollable temper, she said; _her_ +temper. If anything occurred greatly to exasperate him (but this was +very rare) his transitory passion was akin to madness: In fact it was +madness for the short time it lasted, which was never more than for a +few moments. To punish him by death for any act committed by him +during this irresponsible time would be, she urged, murder. Murder +upon him. + +Only these few words did she speak. Not passionately; calmly and +respectfully; and with her dark eyes fixed--on the judge. She then +bowed to the judge and retired. The judge inclined his head gravely to +her in return, and proceeded with his sentence. + +Death. But the strong recommendation of the jury should be forwarded +to the proper quarter. + +The judge, as was learnt later, seconded this recommendation warmly: +in fact, the words he used in passing sentence as good as conveyed an +intimation that there might be no execution. + +Thus ended the famous trial. Within a week afterwards the fiat was +known: and the sentence was commuted into penal servitude for life! + +Penal servitude for life! Think of the awful blight to a man in the +flower of his age and in the position of Adam Andinnian! And all +through one moment's mad act! + + + + +CHAPTER V. +Unable to get strong. + + +In an invalid's chair by the side of a fire, at midday, reclined Lucy +Cleeve. Her face was delicate and thin; her sweet brown eyes had +almost an anxious look in them; the white wrapper she wore was not +whiter than her cheeks. Mrs. Cleeve was in the opposite chair reading. +At the window sat Miss Blake, working some colours of bright silks on +a white satin ground. + +As Mrs. Cleeve turned the page, she chanced to look up, and saw in her +daughter a symptom of shivering. + +"Lucy! My darling, surely you are not shivering again!" + +"N--o, I think not," was the hesitating answer. "The fire is getting +dull, mamma." + +Mrs. Cleeve stirred the fire into brightness, and then brought a warm +shawl of chenille silk, and folded it over Lucy's shoulders. And yet +the August sun was shining on the world, and the blue skies were dark +with heat. + +The cruel pain that the separation from Karl Andinnian had brought to +Lucy, was worse than any one thought for. She was perfectly silent +over it, bearing all patiently, and so gave no sign of the desolation +within. Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve said in private how reasonable Lucy +was, and how well she was forgetting the young man. Miss Blake felt +sure that she had never really cared for him: that the love had been +all child's play. All through the month of June Lucy had gone about +wherever they chose to take her: to flower-shows, and promenades, and +dances, and picnics. She talked and laughed in society as others did; +and no mortal wizard or witch could have divined she was suffering +from the effects of a love-fever, that had been too rudely checked. + +Very shortly she was to suffer from a different fever: one that +sometimes proves to be just as difficult of cure. In spite of the +gaiety and the going-out, Lucy seemed to be somewhat ailing: her +appetite failed, and she grew to feel tired at nothing. In July these +symptoms had increased, and she was palpably ill. The medical man +called in, pronounced Miss Cleeve to be suffering from a slight fever, +combined with threatenings of ague. The slight fever grew into a +greater one, and then became intermittent. Intervals of shivering +coldness would be succeeded by intervals of burning heat; and they in +their turn by intense prostration. The doctor said Miss Cleeve must +have taken cold; probably, he thought, had sat on damp grass at some +picnic. Lucy was very obedient. She lay in bed when they told her to +lie, and got up when they told her to get up, and took all the +medicine ordered without a word, and tried to take the food. The +doctor, at length, with much self-gratulation, declared the fever at +an end; and that Miss Cleeve might come out of her bedroom for some +hours in the day. Miss Cleeve did so come: but somehow she did not +gain strength, or improve as she ought to have done. Seasons of +chilling coldness would be upon her still, the white cheeks would +sometimes be bright with a very suspicious-looking dash of hectic. It +would take time to re-establish her, said the doctor with a sigh: and +that was the best he could make of it. + +Whether Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve would have chosen to speak much before +their daughter of the lover she had been obliged to resign, cannot be +said. Most probably not. But circumstances over which they had no +control led to its being done. When, towards the close of June, the +news of that strange tragedy enacted by Adam Andinnian broke upon the +world, all the world was full of it. Not a visitor, calling to see +them, but went over the marvellous wonders of the tale in Lucy's +hearing, and, as it seemed to her, for her own special benefit. The +entirely unprovoked (as was at first said and supposed) nature of the +crime; the singular fact that it should have been committed the very +day of his assuming his rank amidst the baronetage of the kingdom; the +departure of Mrs. Andinnian on the journey that he ought to have +taken, and the miserable thought, so full of poignancy to the +Andinnian family, that if _he_ had gone, the calamity could not have +happened; the summons to the young lieutenant at Winchester, his +difficulty with the telegram, and his arrival at night to find what +had happened at the desolate house! All these facts, and very many +more details, some true, some untrue, were brought before Lucy day +after day. To escape them was impossible, unless she had shut herself +up from society, for men and women's mouths were full of them; and +none had the least suspicion that the name of Andinnian was more than +any other name to Lucy Cleeve. It was subsequent to this, you of +course understand, that she became ill. During this period, she was +only somewhat ailing, and was going about just as other people went. + +The subject--it has been already said--did not die out quickly. Before +it was allowed to do so, there came the trial; and _that_ and its +proceedings kept it alive for many a day more. But that the matter +altogether bore an unusual interest, and that a great deal of what is +called romance, by which public imagination is fed, encompassed it, +was undeniable. The step in rank attained by Lieutenant Andinnian, his +captaincy, was dismissed and re-discussed as though no man had ever +taken it before. So that, long ere the period now arrived at, August, +Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve talked of the Andinnian affairs before their +daughter with as little thought of reticence as they would have given +to the most common questions of everyday life, and perhaps had nearly +forgotten that there had ever been a cause why they should observe it. + +A word of Miss Blake. That the perfidy--she looked upon it as such--of +Lieutenant Andinnian in regard to herself, was a very bitter blow and +tried her heart nearly as the separation was trying Lucy's, may at +once be admitted. Nothing, in the world or out of it, would have +persuaded her that the young man did not at an early period love her, +that he would have ultimately married her but for the stepping in +between them of Lucy Cleeve: and there lay a very angry and bitter +feeling against Lucy at the bottom of her heart. Not against Mr. +Andinnian. The first shock over, she quite exonerated him, and threw +all the weight of blame on Lucy. Is it not ever so--that woman, in a +case of rivalry such as this, detests and misjudges the woman, and +exempts the man? + +But Miss Blake had a very strict conscience. In one of more gentle and +tender nature, this would have been an admirable thing; in her, whose +nature was exceptionally hard, it might cause her to grow into +something undesirably stern. There was a chance for her yet. +Underlying her every thought, word, action, her witty sallies in +the ball-room, her prayers in church, remained ever the one faint +hope--that Karl Andinnian would recover his senses and return to his +first allegiance. If this ever came to pass, and she became Mrs. +Andinnian, the little kindness existing in Theresa Blake's nature +would assert itself. For, though she was very just, or strove to be, +she was not kind. + +With this strict conscience, Miss Blake could not encourage her +ill-feeling towards Lucy. On the contrary, she put it resolutely from +her, and strove to go on her way in a duteous course of life and take +up her own sorrow as a kind of appointed cross. All very well, this, +so far as it went: but there was one dreadful want ever making itself +heard--the want to fill the aching void in her lonely heart. After a +disappointment to the affections, all women feel this need; and none +unless they have felt it, can know or imagine the intense need of it. +When the heart has been filled to the uttermost with a beloved object, +every hour of the day gladdened with his sight, every dream of the +night rejoicing with the thought of the morning's renewed meeting, and +he is compulsorily snatched away for ever, the awful blank left is +almost worse than death. Every aim and end and hope in life seems to +have died suddenly out, leaving only a vacuum: a vacuum that tells of +nothing but pain. But for finding some object which the mind can take +up and concentrate itself upon, there are women who could go mad. Miss +Blake found hers in religion. + +Close upon that night when you saw Mr. Andinnian and Lucy Cleeve +pacing together the garden of the Reverend Mr. Blake's rectory, Mr. +Blake was seized with a fit. The attack was not in itself very +formidable, but it bore threatening symptoms for the future. Perfect +rest was enjoined by his medical attendants, together with absence +from the scene of his labours. As soon, therefore, as he could be +moved, Mr. Blake departed; leaving his church in the charge of his +many-years curate, and of a younger man who was hastily engaged to +assist him. This last was a stranger in the place, the Reverend Guy +Cattacomb. Now, singular to say, but it was the fact, immediately +after Mr. Blake's departure, the old curate was incapacitated by an +attack of very serious illness, and he also had to go away for rest +and change. This left the church wholly in the hands of the new man, +Mr. Cattacomb. And this most zealous but rather mistaken divine, at +once set about introducing various changes in the service; asking +nobody's permission, or saying with your leave, or by your leave. + +The service had hitherto been conducted reverently, plainly, and +with thorough efficiency. The singing was good; the singers--men and +boys--wore white surplices: in short, all things were done decently +and in order: and both Mr. Blake and his curate were excellent +preachers. To the exceeding astonishment of the congregation, Mr. +Cattacomb swooped down upon them the very first Sunday he was left to +himself, with what they were pleased to term "vagaries." Vagaries they +undoubtedly were, and not only needless ones, but such as were +calculated to bring a wholesome and sound Protestant church into +disrepute. The congregation remonstrated, but the Reverend Guy +persisted. The power for the time being, lay in his hands, and he used +it after his own heart. + + + "Man, proud man, dressed in a little brief authority, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven as make the + angels weep." + + +How applicable are those lines of Shakespeare's to some of the +overzealous young divines of the present day! + +The progress of events in Mr. Blake's church need not be traced. It is +enough to say that the Reverend Mr. Cattacomb--whose preaching was no +better than the rest of him: a quarter of an hour's rant, of which +nobody could make any sense at all--emptied the church. Nearly all the +old congregation left it. In their places a sprinkling of young people +began to frequent it. We have had examples of these things. The +Reverend Guy led, and his flock (almost the whole of them ardent young +girls of no experience) followed. There were banners and processions, +and images of saints and angels, and candlesticks and scrolls and +artificial flowers, and thrown-up incense, and soft mutterings coming +from nowhere, and all kinds of odd services at all kinds of hours, +and risings-up and sittings-down, and bowings here and bowings there, +and private confessions and public absolutions. Whether the worship, +or, in fact, the church itself was meant to represent the Roman +Catholic faith or the Protestant no living soul could tell. It was +ultra-foolish--that is really the only name for it--and created some +scandal. People took to speak of its frequenters slightingly and +disrespectfully as "Mr. Cattacomb and his tail." The tail being the +ardent young ladies who were never away from his heels. + +Never a one amidst them more ardent than Miss Blake. In the Rev. Guy +and his ceremonies she found that outlet for the superfluous resources +of her heart that Karl Andinnian had left so vacant. Ten times a day, +if the church had ten services, or scraps of services, was Miss Blake +to be seen amid the knot of worshippers. At early morning she went to +Matins; at sunset she went to Vespers. Once a week she was penned up +in a close box which the Reverend Guy had put up as a confessional, +confessing her sins. Some ladies chose the Reverend Mr. Cattacomb as +their father priest in this respect; some chose his friend and +coadjutor the Reverend Damon Puff: a very zealous young man also, whom +the former had appointed to his assistance. One confessional box was +soon found quite insufficient, and a second was introduced. Lookers-on +began to wonder what would come next. Miss Blake did not neglect the +claims of society in her new call to devotion; so that, what with the +world and what with the church, she had but little spare time on her +hands. It was somewhat unusual to see her, as now, seated quietly at +her needle. The work was some beauteous silken embroidery, destined to +cover a cushion for Mr. Cattacomb's reverend knees to rest upon when +at his private devotions. The needle came to a sudden pause. + +"I wonder if I am wrong," she exclaimed, after regarding attentively +the leaf that had been growing under her hands. "Mrs. Cleeve, do you +think the leaves to this rose should be _brown?_ I fancy they ought to +be green." + +"Do not ask me anything about it, Theresa." + +Mrs. Cleeve's answer wore rather a resentful accent. The fact was, +both herself and Colonel Cleeve were sadly vexed at Miss Blake's +wholesale goings in for the comprehensive proceedings of Mr. +Cattacomb. They had resigned their pew in the church themselves, and +now walked regularly to the beautiful services in the cathedral. +Colonel Cleeve remonstrated with Miss Blake for what he called her +folly. He told her that she was making herself ridiculous; and that +these ultra innovations could but tend to bring religion itself into +disrepute. It will therefore be understood that Mrs. Cleeve, knowing +what the embroidery was destined for, did not regard it with +approbation. + +"Theresa, if I thought my dear child, here, Lucy, would ever make the +spectacle of herself that you and those other girls are doing, I +should weep with sorrow and shame." + +"Well I'm sure!" cried Miss Blake. "Spectacle!" + +"What else is it To see a parcel of brainless girls running after Guy +Cattacomb and that other one--Puff? Their mothers ought to know better +than to allow it. God's pure and reverent and holy worship is one +thing; this is quite another." + +Lucy asked for some of the cooling beverage that stood near: her mouth +felt always parched. As her mother brought it to her, Lucy pressed her +hand and looked up in her face with a smile. Mrs. Cleeve knew that it +was as much as to say "There is no fear of _me_." + +Colonel Cleeve came in as the glass was being put down. He looked +somewhat anxiously at his daughter: he was beginning to be uneasy that +she did not gain strength more quickly. + +"How do you feel now, my dear?" + +"Only a little cold, papa." + +"Dear me--and it is a very hot day!" remarked the colonel, wiping his +brows, for he had been walking fast. + +"Is there any news stirring in the town?" asked Mrs. Cleeve. + +"Nothing particular. Captain Andinnian has sold out. He could not do +anything else under the circumstances." + +"It is a dreadful blight upon the young man's career!" said Mrs. +Cleeve. + +"There was no help for it, Lucinda. Had he been a general he must have +done the same. A man who has a brother working in chains, cannot +remain an officer in the Queen's service. Had the brother been hanged, +I think the Commander-in-chief would have been justified in cashiering +Captain Andinnian, if he had not taken the initiative," added the +colonel, who was very jealous of his order. + +Miss Blake turned with a flush of emotion. This news fell on her heart +like lead. Her first thought when the colonel spoke had been--If he +has left the army, there will be nothing to bring him again to +Winchester. + +"Captain Andinnian cannot be held responsible for what his brother +did," she said. + +"Of course not," admitted the colonel. + +"Neither ought it to be visited upon him." + +"The worst of these sad things, you see, Theresa, is, that they _are_ +visited upon the relatives: and there's no preventing it. Captain +Andinnian must go through life henceforth as a marked man; in a degree +as a banned one: liable to be pointed at by every stranger as a man +who has a brother a convict." + +There was a pause. The last word grated on their ears. Miss +Blake inwardly winced at it: should she become the wife of Karl +Andinnian---- + +"Will Sir Adam be sent to Australia?" asked Mrs. Cleeve of her +husband, interrupting Theresa's thoughts. + +"No. To Portland Island. It is said he is already there." + +"I wonder what will become of his money? His estate, and that?" + +"Report runs that he made it all over to his mother before the trial. +I don't know how far that may be true. Well, it is a thousand pities +for Captain Andinnian," summed up the colonel: "he was a very nice +young fellow." + + They might have thought Lucy, sitting there, her face covered by her +hand, was asleep, so still was she. Presently, Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve +were called away to receive some visitors; and Miss Blake began +folding her silks and white satin in tissue paper, for the hour of +some service or other was at hand. Halting for a moment at the fire to +shake the ends of silk from her gown into the hearth, she glanced at +Lucy. + +"Suppose you had been married to Karl Andinnian, Lucy!" + +"Well?" + +"What an awful fate it would have been for you!" + +"I should only have clung to him the closer, Theresa," was the low +answer. And it must be premised that neither Lucy nor any one else had +the slightest notion of Miss Blake's regard for Karl. + +Miss Blake glanced at her watch. She had two minutes yet. She turned +and stood before Lucy. In her unselfish judgment--and she did try to +judge unselfishly always--a union with Captain Andinnian now, though +she herself might stoop to put up with it in her great love, would be +utterly beneath Lucy Cleeve. + +"You--you do not mean to imply that you would marry Captain Andinnian, +as things are?" + +"I would. My father and mother permitting." + +"You unhappy girl! Where's your pride?" + +"I did not say I was going to do it, Theresa. You put an imaginary +proposition; one that is altogether impossible, and I replied to +_that_. I do not expect ever to see Karl Andinnian again in this +world." + +Something in the despairing accent touched Miss Blake, in spite of her +wild jealousy. "You seem very poorly to-day, Lucy," she gently said. +"Are you in pain?" + +"No," replied Lucy, with a sigh: "not in pain. But I don't seem to get +much better, do I, Theresa? I wish I could, for papa and mamma's +sake." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +An Atmosphere of Mystery. + + +It seemed to Mrs. Andinnian and to her son, Karl, that trouble like +unto theirs had never yet fallen upon man. Loving Adam as they did, +for his sake it was more than they knew how to bear. The disgrace and +blight to themselves were terrible; to Karl especially, who was, so to +say, only entering on life. There are some calamities that can never +be righted in this world; scarcely softened. This was one. Calamities +when we can only _bear_, bear always here; when nothing is left us but +to look forward to, and live on for, the next world, where no pain +will be. In Karl's mind this was ever present. + +The bare fact of the selling-out was to Karl Andinnian a bitter blow. +He was attached to his profession: and he had been looking forward to +finding, in the active discharge of its duties, a relief from the +blank left by the loss of Lucy Cleeve. Now he must be thrown utterly +upon himself; an idle man. Everyone was very kind to him; from the +Commander-in-chief, with whom he had an interview, downwards evincing +for him the truest respect and sympathy: but not one of them said, +"Won't you reconsider your determination and remain with us?" His +Royal Highness civilly expressed regret at the loss Her Majesty would +sustain in so good a servant; but he took the withdrawal as a matter +that admitted of no question. There could be none. Captain Andinnian's +only brother, escaping the gallows by an accorded favour, was working +in chains on Portland Island: clearly the captain, brave and unsullied +man though he individually was, could but hasten to hide his head in +private life. + +It was a happy thing for Karl that he had plenty of business on his +hands just now. It saved him in a degree from thought. Besides his own +matters, there were many things to see to for his mother. The house in +Northamptonshire was given up, its furniture sold, its household, +except Hewitt, discharged. Karl was on the spot and saw to it all. +Whilst there, he had rather a struggle with himself. His natural +kindliness of feeling prompted him to call and see Miss Turner: +personally he shrunk from it, for he could not forget that it was +through her all the misery had happened. He did violence to his +inclination, and called. The young lady seemed to be in very depressed +spirits, and said but little. The event seemed to have tried her much, +and she was pale and thin. During the interval that had elapsed since +the trial, her uncle, to whom she was much attached, had died. She +told Karl that her aunt, Mrs. Turner, intended to remove at once to +her native place, a remote district of Cumberland: Rose supposed she +should have to remove with her. Mr. Turner had left a very fair amount +of property. His wife was to receive the interest of it for her life; +at her death the whole of it would come to Rose. As Karl shook hands +with her on leaving, and wished her well, something he said was taken +by her as alluding to the unhappy tragedy, though he had intended +nothing of the sort. It had a strange effect upon her. She rose from +her seat, her hands trembling; her face became burning red, then +changed to a ghastly whiteness. "Don't speak of it, Captain +Andinnian," she exclaimed in a voice of horror; "don't hint at it, +unless you would see me go mad. There are times when I think that +madness will be my ending." Again wishing her well; he took his +departure. It was rather unlikely, he thought, that their paths would +cross each other again in life. + +Hewitt was sent to Foxwood. It would probably be made the future home +of Mrs. Andinnian and her younger son; but at present they had not +gone there. For some little time, while Karl was busy in London, +Northamptonshire, or elsewhere, he had lost sight of his mother. She +quitted the temporary home she occupied, and, so to say, disappeared. +While he was wondering what this meant, and where she could be; he +received a letter from her dated Weymouth. She told him she had taken +up her abode there for the present, and she charged him not to +disclose this to any one, or to let her address be known. Just for a +moment, Karl was puzzled to imagine what her motive could be in going +to a place that she knew nothing of. All at once the truth flashed +upon him--she would be as near as possible to that cruel prison that +contained her ill-fated son. + +It was even so. Adam Andinnian was on Portland Island; and his mother +had taken up her residence at Weymouth to be near him. Karl, who knew +not the place, or the rules observed, wondered whether a spectator +might stroll about on the (so-called) island at will, or ever get a +chance glimpse of the gangs at their labour. + +In the month of October, Captain Andinnian--to call him by this title +for a short while longer--went to Weymouth. He found his mother +established in a small, mean, ready-furnished house in an obscure part +of the town. It was necessary for him to see her on matters connected +with the Foxwood estate, of which he had now the management; but she +had charged him to come to her in as private a manner as he well +could, and not to make himself or his name known at the station or +elsewhere, unless under necessity. "She is right," thought Karl; "the +name of Andinnian is notorious now." That was true; and he did not +suppose she had any other motive for the injunction. + +"But, my dear mother, why are you _here?_" he asked within five +minutes of his entrance, as he looked at the confined walls of the +mean abode. "You might at least have been more comfortably and +suitably lodged." + +"What I choose to do, I do," she answered, in the distant tones of +former days. "It is not for you to question me." + +Mrs. Andinnian was altered. Mental suffering had told upon her. The +once fresh hues of her complexion had given place to a fixed pallor; +the large dark eyes had acquired a fierce and yet restless look. In +manner alone was she unaltered, at least to Karl: and as to her pride, +it seemed to be more dominant than ever. + +"I was only thinking of your comfort, mother," he replied to her +fierce rejoinder. "This is so different from what you have been +accustomed to." + +"Circumstances are different," she said curtly. + +"Have you but one servant in the whole house? For everything?" + +"She is enough for me: she is a faithful woman. I tell you that +circumstances are not what they were." + +"_Some_ are not--unhappily," he answered. "But others, pecuniary ones, +have changed the other way. You are rich now." + +"And do you think I would touch a stiver of the riches that are my +dear Adam's?" she retorted, her eyes blazing. "Save what may be +necessary to keep up Foxwood, and to--to-- No," she resumed, after the +abrupt breaking off, "I hoard them for him." + +Karl wondered whether trouble had a little touched her brain. Poor +Adam could have no further use for riches in this world. Unless, +indeed, in years to come, he should obtain what was called a ticket of +leave. But Karl fancied that in a case like Adam's--Condemnation +commuted--it was never given. + +Mrs. Andinnian began asking the details of the giving-up of her former +home. In answering, Karl happened to mention incidentally the death of +their neighbour, Mr. Turner, and his own interview with Rose. The +latter's name excited Mrs. Andinnian beyond all precedent: it brought +on one of those frightful fits of passion that Karl had not seen of +late years. + +"I loathe her," she wildly said. "But for her wicked machinations, my +darling son had not fallen into this dreadful fate that is worse than +death. May my worst curses light upon the head of Rose Turner!" + +Karl did what he could to soothe the storm he had unwittingly evoked. +He told his mother that she would never, in all probability, be +grieved with the sight of the girl again, for she was removing to the +out-of-the-world district of Cumberland. + +The one servant, alluded to by Karl, was a silent-mannered, capable +woman of some forty years. Her mistress called her "Ann," but Karl +found she was a Mrs. Hopley, a married woman. That she appeared to be +really attached to her mistress, to sympathise with her in her great +misfortune, and to be solicitous to render her every little service +that could soothe her, Captain Andinnian saw and felt grateful for. + +"Where is your husband?" he one day inquired. + +"Hopley's out getting his living, sir," was the answer. "We have had +misfortunes, sir: and when they come to people such as us, we must do +the best we can to meet them. Hopley's working on his side, and me on +mine." + +"He is not in Weymouth then?" + +"No, he is not in Weymouth. We are not Weymouth people, sir. I don't +know much about the place. I never lived at it till I came to Mrs. +Andinnian." + +By this, Karl presumed that his mother had brought Mrs. Hopley with +her when she came herself: but he asked no further. It somewhat +explained what he had rather wondered at--that his mother, usually so +reticent, and more than ever so now, should have disclosed their great +calamity to this woman. He thought the servant must have been already +cognisant of it. + +"What misfortune was it of your own that you allude to?" he gently +asked. + +"It was connected with our son, sir. I and my husband never had but +him. He turned out wild. While he was quite a lad, so to say, he +ruined us, and we had to break up the home." + +"And where is he now?" + +She put her check apron before her face to hide her emotion. "He is +dead," was the low answer. "He died a dreadful death, sir, and I can't +yet bear to talk of it. It's hardly three months ago." + +Karl looked at the black ribbon in her cap, at the neat +black-and-white print gown she did her work in: and his heart went out +to the woman's sorrow. He understood better now--she and her mistress +had a grief in common. Later, he heard somewhat more of the +particulars. Young Hopley, after bringing his parents to beggary, had +plunged into crime; and then, to avoid being taken, had destroyed +himself. + +But, as the days went on, Karl Andinnian could not help remarking that +there was an atmosphere of strangeness pervading the house: he could +almost have said of mystery. Frequently were mistress and maid +closeted together in close conference; the door locked upon them, the +conversation carried on in whispers. Twice he saw Ann Hopley go out so +be-cloaked and be-large-bonneted that it almost looked as though she +were dressed for disguise. Karl thought it very strange. + +One evening, when he was reading to his mother by candle-light, the +front door was softly knocked at, and some one was admitted to the +kitchen. In the small house, all sounds were plainly heard. A minute +or two elapsed, and then Ann came in to say a visitor wished to speak +to her mistress. While Karl was wondering at this--for his mother was +entirely unknown in the place--Mrs. Andinnian rose without the least +surprise, looked at her son, and hesitated. + +"Will you step into another room, Karl' My interview must be private." + +So! she had expected this visit. Captain Andinnian went into his +bedroom. He saw--for his curiosity was excited, and he did not quite +close the door--a tall, big, burly man, much wrapped up, and who kept +his hat on, walk up the passage to the sitting-zoom, lighted thither +by Ann. It seemed to the captain as though the visitor wished his face +not to be looked at. The interview lasted about twenty minutes. Ann +then showed the man out again, and Karl returned to the parlour. + +"Who was it, mother?" + +"A person to see me on private business," replied Mrs. Andinnian, in a +voice that effectually checked further inquiries. + +The days passed monotonously. Mrs. Andinnian was generally buried in +her own thoughts, scarcely ever speaking to him; and when she did +speak, it was in a cold or snappish manner. "If she would but make a +true son of me, and give me her confidence!" Karl often thought. But, +to do anything of the kind was evidently not the purport of Mrs. +Andinnian. + +He one day went over to Portland Island. The wish to make the +pilgrimage, and see what the place was like, had been in his mind from +the first: but, in the midst of the wish, a dreadful distaste to it +drew him back, and he had let the time elapse without going. October +was in its third week, and the days were getting wintry. + +It is a dreary spot--and it struck with a strange dreariness on +Captain Andinnian's spirit. Storms, that seemed to fall lightly on +other places, rage out their fury there. Half a gale was blowing that +day, and he seemed to feel its roughness to the depth of his heart. +The prospect around, with its heaving sea, romantic enough at some +times, was all too wild to-day; the Race of Portland, that turbulent +place which cannot be crossed by vessel, gave him a fit of the +shivers. As to the few houses he saw, they were as poor as the one +inhabited by his mother. + +In one of the quarries, amidst its great masses of stone, Captain +Andinnian halted, his eyes fixed on the foaming sea, his thoughts most +bitter. Within a few yards of him, so to say, worked his unfortunate +brother; chained, a felon; all his hopes in this world blighted; all +his comforts in life gone out for ever. Karl himself was peculiarly +susceptible to physical discomfort, as sensitive-natured men are apt +to be; and he never thought without a shudder of what Adam had to +undergo in this respect. + +"Subjected to endless toil; to cruel deprivation; to isolation from +all his kind!" groaned Karl aloud to the wild winds. "Oh, my brother, +if----" + +His voice died away in very astonishment. Emerging from behind one of +the blocks, at right angles with him, but not very near, came two +people walking side by side, evidently conversing in close whispers. +In the cloaked-up woman, with the large black bonnet and black crape +veil over her face, Karl was sure he saw their servant, Ann Hopley. +The other must be, he thought, one of the warders: and, unless Karl +was greatly mistaken, he recognised in his strong, burly frame the +same man who had come a night or two before to his mother's house. +They passed on without seeing him, but he saw the man's face +distinctly. + +A light dawned on his mind. His mother was striving to make a friend +of this warder, with a view to conveying messages, perhaps also, it +might be, physical comforts, to Adam: yes, that was undoubtedly the +solution of the mystery. But why need she have hidden it from him, +Karl? + +When he got home that night--for he stayed out until he was tired and +weary--Ann Hopley, in her usual home attire, was putting the tea-tray +on the table. + +"I fancied I saw Ann out to-day," he observed to his mother, when they +were alone. + +"She went out on an errand for me," replied Mrs. Andinnian. + +"I have been over to the Island," continued Karl. "It was there I +thought I saw her." + +Mrs. Andinnian was pouring some cream into the tea-cups when he spoke. +She put down the small frail glass jug with a force that smashed it, +and the cream ran over the tea-board. + +"You have been to the Island!" she cried in a voice that betrayed some +dreadful terror. "To the _Island_?" + +Karl was rising to see what he could do towards repairing the mishap. +The words arrested him. He had again been so unlucky as to raise one +of her storms of passion: but this time he could see no reason in her +anger: neither did he quite understand what excited it. + +"To-day is the first time I have been to the Island, mother. I could +not summon up the heart before." + +"How _dared_ you go?" + +"I am thinking of going again," he answered, believing her question to +relate to physical bravery. "And of getting--if it be possible to +obtain--permission to see _him_." + +The livid colour spreading itself over Mrs. Andinnian's face grew more +livid. "_I forbid it, Karl_. I forbid it, do you hear? You would ruin +everything, I forbid you to go again on the Island, or to attempt to +see Adam. Good heavens! you might be recognised for his brother." + +"And if I were?" cried Karl, feeling completely at sea. + +Mrs. Andinnian sat with her two hands on the edge of the tea-tray, +staring at him, in what looked like dire consternation. + +"Karl, you must go away to-morrow. To think that you could be such a +fool as to go _there!_ This is worse than all: it is most unfortunate. +To-morrow you leave." + +"Mother, why will you not place trust in me?" he asked, unable to +fathom her. "Do you think you could have a truer confidant? or Adam a +warmer friend? I guess the object of Ann's visits to the Island. I saw +her talking with one of the warders to-day--the same man, or I fancied +it, that came here the other night. That moment solved me the riddle, +and----" + +"Hush--sh--sh--sh!" breathed Mrs. Andinnian, in a terrified voice, +ringing the bell, and looking round the walls of the room as if in +dread that they had ears. "Not another word, Karl; I will not, dare +not, hear it." + +"As you please, mother," he rejoined, feeling bitterly hurt at her +lack of trust. + +"Have you more cream in the house, Ann?" said Mrs. Andinnian, calmly, +when the woman appeared. "And you had better change the tray." + +The meal was concluded in silence. Karl took up a newspaper he had +brought in; Mrs. Andinnian at moodily gazing into the fire. And so the +time went on. + +Suddenly there arose the distant sound of guns, booming along on the +still night air. To Captain Andinnian it suggested no ulterior +thought; brought no cause for agitation: but his mother started up in +wild commotion. + +"The guns, Karl! the guns!" + +"What guns are they?" he exclaimed, in surprise. "What are they firing +for?" + +She did not answer; she only stood still as a statue, her mouth +slightly open with the intensity of listening, her finger lifted up. +In the midst of this, Ann Hopley opened the door without sound, and +looked in with a terror-stricken face. + +"It's not _him_, ma'am; don't you be afeared. It's some other convicts +that are off; but it can't be him. The plan's not yet organized." + +And Karl learnt that these were the guns from Portland Island, +announcing the escape, or attempted escape, of some of its miserable +prisoners. + +Well for him if he had learned nothing else! The true and full meaning +of what had been so mysterious flashed upon him now, like a sheet of +lightning that lights up and reveals the secrets of the darkness. It +was not Adam's comforts they were surreptitiously seeking to +ameliorate; they were plotting for his escape. + +His escape! As the truth took possession of Captain Andinnian, his +face grew white with a sickening terror; his brow damp as with a death +sweat. + +For he knew that nearly all these attempted escapes result in utter +failure. The unhappy, deluded victims are recaptured, or drowned, or +shot. Sitting there in his shock of agony, his dazed eyes gazing out +to the fire, a prevision that death in one shape or other would be his +brother's fate, if he did make the rash venture, seated itself firmly +within him, as surely and vividly as though he had seen it in some +fortuneteller's magic crystal. + +"Mother," he said, in a low tone, as he took her hand, and the door +closed on Ann Hopley, "I understand it all now. I thought, simple that +I was, that I had understood it before: and that you were but striving +to find a way of conveying trifles in the shape of comforts to Adam. +This is dreadful." + +"What is the matter with you?" cried Mrs. Andinnian. "You look ready +to die." + +"The matter is, that this has shocked me. I pray Heaven that Adam will +not be so foolhardy as to attempt to escape!" + +"And _why_ should he not?" blazed forth Mrs. Andinnian. + +Karl shook his head. "In nine cases out of ten, the result is nothing +but death." + +"And the tenth case results in life, in liberty!" she rejoined, +exultantly. "My brave son does well to try for it." + +Karl hid his eyes. The first thought, in the midst of the many +tumultuously crowding his brain, was the strangely different +estimation different people set on things. Here was his mother +glorying in that to-be-attempted escape as if it were some great deed +dared by a great general: _he_ saw only its results. They could not be +good; they must be evil. Allowing that Adam did escape and regain his +liberty: what would the "liberty" be? A life of miserable concealment; +of playing at hide-and-seek with the law; a world-wide apprehension, +lying on him always, of being retaken. In short, a hunted man, who +must not dare to approach the haunts of his fellows, and of whom every +other man must be the enemy. To Karl the present life of degrading +labour would be preferable to that. + +"Do you wish to keep him there for life--that you may enjoy the +benefit of his place at Foxwood and his money?" resumed Mrs. +Andinnian, in a tone that she well knew how to make contemptuously +bitter. The words stung Karl. His answer was full of pain: the pain of +despair. + +"I wish life had never been for him, mother. Or for me, either. If I +could restore Adam to what he has forfeited by giving my own life, I +would do it willingly. I have not much left to live for." + +The tone struck Mrs. Andinnian. She thought that even the reflected +disgrace, the stain on his name, scarcely justified it. Karl said +a few words to her then of the blight that had fallen on his own +life--the severance from Lucy Cleeve. She told him she was sorry: but +it was quite evident that she was too much preoccupied with other +things to care about it. And the sad evening passed on. + +With the morning, Weymouth learnt the fate of the poor convict--it was +only one--who had attempted to escape, after whom the guns were let +loose like so many blood-hounds. He was retaken. It was a man who had +attempted escape once before, and unsuccessfully. + +"The plans were badly laid," calmly remarked Mrs. Andinnian. + +She did not now insist upon Karl's quitting her: he knew all; and, +though he could not approve, she knew he would not do anything to +frustrate. The subject was not again brought up: Mrs. Andinnian +avoided it: and some more days wore on. Karl fancied, but could not be +sure, that the other attempt at escape caused the action of this to be +delayed: perhaps entirely abandoned. His mother and Ann Hopley seemed +to be always in secret conference, and twice again there came +stealthily to the house at night the same warder, or the man whom Karl +had taken for one. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +At the Charing-Cross Hotel. + + +On All Saints' Day, the first of November--and it was as bright a day +for the festival as the saints, whether in that world or this, could +wish--Captain Andinnian took leave of his mother, and went to London. +His chief business there was to transact some business with the family +lawyers, Plunkett and Plunkett. Their chambers were within the +precincts of the Temple, and for convenience' sake he took up his +quarters at the Charing Cross Hotel. + +In the course of the afternoon, as he was turning out of Essex Street, +having come through the little court from Plunkett and Plunkett's, he +ran against a gentleman passing down the Strand. "I beg your pardon," +Karl was beginning, and then became suddenly silent. It was Colonel +Cleeve. + +But, instead of passing on, as Karl might have expected him to do, the +Colonel stopped and shook him cordially by the hand. To pass him would +have jarred on every kindly instinct of Colonel Cleeve's nature. As to +the affair with his daughter, he attached no importance to it now, +believing it had made no permanent impression on Lucy, and had himself +three-parts forgotten it. + +"You have sold out, Captain Andinnian. I--I have been so very sorry +for the sad causes that induced the step. Believe me, you have had all +along my very best sympathy." + +Karl hardly knew what he answered. A few words of murmured thanks; +nothing more. + +"You are not well," returned the Colonel, regarding the slender form +that looked thinner than of yore, very thin in its black attire. "This +has told upon you." + +"It has; very much. There are some trials that can never be made light +in this life," Karl continued, speaking the thoughts that were ever +uppermost in his mind. "This is one of them. I thank you for your +sympathy, Colonel Cleeve." + +"And that's true, unfortunately," cried the Colonel, warmly, in +answer. "You don't know how you are regretted at Winchester by your +brother officers." + +With another warm handshake, the Colonel passed on. Karl walked back +to his hotel. In traversing one of its upper passages, a young lady +came out of a sitting-room to cross to an opposite chamber. Captain +Andinnian took a step back to let her pass in front of him; she turned +her head, and they met face to face. + +"Lucy!" + +"Karl!" + +The salutation broke from each before they well knew where they were +or what had happened, amidst a rush of bewildering excitement, of wild +joy. They had, no doubt, as in duty bound, been trying to forget each +other; this moment of unexpected meeting proved to each how foolish +was the fallacy. A dim idea made itself heard within either breast +that they ought, in that duty alluded to, to pass on and linger not: +but we all know how vain and weak is the human heart. It was not +possible: and they stood, hand locked within hand. + +Only for an instant. Lucy, looking very weak and ill, withdrew her +hand, and leaned back against the doorpost for support. Karl stood +before her. + +"I have just met Colonel Cleeve," he said: "but I had no idea that +_you_ were in London. Are you staying here?" + +"Until to-morrow," she answered, her breath seeming to be a little +short. "We came up yesterday. Papa chose this hotel, as it is +convenient for the Folkestone trains. Mamma is here." + +"Lucy, how very ill you look!" + +"Yes. I had fever and ague in the summer, and do not get strong again. +We are going to Paris for change. You do not look well either," added +Lucy. + +"I have not had fever: but I have had other things to try me," was his +reply. + +"Oh, Karl! I have been so grieved!" she earnestly said. "I did not +know your brother, but I--I seemed to feel all the dreadful trouble as +much as you must have felt it. When we are not strong, I think we do +feel things." + +"You call it by its right name, Lucy--a _dreadful_ trouble. No one but +myself can know what it has been to me." + +They were gazing at each other yearningly: Lucy with her sweet brown +eyes so full of tender compassion; Karl's grey-blue ones had a world +of sorrowful regret in their depths. As she had done in their +interview when they were parting, so she now did again--put out her +hand to him, with a whisper meant to soothe. + +"You will live it down, Karl." + +He slightly shook his head: and took her hand to hold it between his. + +"It is only since this happened that I have become at all reconciled +to--to what had to be done at Winchester, Lucy. It would have been so +greatly worse, had you been tied to me by--by any engagement." + +"Not worse for you, Karl, but better. I should have helped you so much +to bear it." + +"My darling!" + +The moment the words had crossed his lips, he remembered what honour +and his long-ago-passed word to Colonel Cleeve demanded of him--that +he should absolutely abstain from showing any tokens of affection for +Lucy. Nay, to observe it strictly, he ought not to have stayed to talk +with her. + +"I beg your pardon, Lucy," he said, dropping her hand. + +She understood quite well: a faint colour mantled in her pale face. +She had been as forgetful as he. + +"God bless you, Lucy," he whispered. "Farewell." + +"O Karl--a moment," she implored with agitation, hardly knowing, in +the pain of parting, what she said. "Just to tell you that I have not +forgotten. I never shall forget. My regret, for what had to be, lies +on me still." + +"God bless you," he repeated, in deep emotion. "God bless and restore +you, Lucy!" + +Once more their fingers met in a brief handshake. And then they +parted; he going one way, she the other; and the world had grown dim +again. + +Later in the day Karl heard it incidentally mentioned by some people +in the coffee-room, that Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve with their daughter +and two servants were going to make a prolonged stay on the Continent +for the benefit of the young lady's health, who had been suffering +from fever. Little did they think that the quiet, distinguished +looking man in mourning, who had but come in to ask for some +information, and was waiting while the waiter brought it, had more to +do with the young lady's failing health than any fever. + +Captain Andinnian took his breakfast next morning in private: as he +sat down to it, the waiter brought him a newspaper. While listlessly +unfolding it, he took the opportunity to ask a question. + +"Have Colonel Cleeve and his family left the hotel?" + +"Yes, sir. Just gone off for Folkestone. Broiled ham, sir; eggs; steak +with mushrooms," continued the man, removing sundry covers. + +"Thank you. You need not wait." + +But--ere the man had well closed the door, a startled sound like a +groan of agony burst from Karl's lips. He sprung from his seat at a +bound, his eyes riveted on the newspaper in one stare of disbelieving +horror. The paragraph had a heading in the largest letters-- + + +"ATTEMPTED ESCAPE FROM PORTLAND ISLAND. DEATH OF THE PRISONER, SIR +ADAM ANDINNIAN." + + +Karl let the newspaper fall, and buried his face on the table-cloth to +shut out the light. He had not courage to read more at once. He lay +there praying that it might not be true. + +Alas! it was too true. Two prisoners had attempted to escape in +concert; Sir Adam Andinnian and a man named Cole. They succeeded in +reaching the water, and got off in a small boat lying ready in wait. +Some warders pursued them in another boat; and, after an exciting +chase in the dark night, came up with them as they reached the +Weymouth side. Sir Adam was shot dead by a pistol; the small boat was +upset, and one of the warders drowned. Cole was supposed to have made +his escape. + +Such was the statement given in the newspapers. And, however uncertain +the minor details might be at this early stage, one part appeared to +admit of no doubt--Adam Andinnian was dead. + +"I seemed to foresee it," moaned Karl. "From the very first, the +persuasion has lain upon me that this would be the ending." + +Ere many minutes elapsed, ere he had attempted to touch a morsel of +breakfast, a gentleman was shown in. It was Mr. Plunkett: a stout man +in spectacles, with a large red nose. He had the _Times_ in his hand. +Captain Andinnian's paper lay open on the breakfast table; Captain +Andinnian's face, as he rose to receive his visitor, betrayed its own +story. + +"I see; you have read the tidings," began Mr. Plunkett, sitting down. +"It is a dreadful thing." + +"Do--do you think there's any chance that it may not be true?" he +rejoined in an imploring tone. + +"There's not the slightest as to the main fact--that Sir Adam is +dead," replied the lawyer decisively. "What _could_ he have been +thinking of, to hazard it?" + +Karl sat shading his face. + +"I'll tell you what it is, sir--there was a spice of madness in your +brother's composition, I said so when he shot Scott. There must have +been. And who, but a madman, would try to get away from Portland +Island?" + +"Nay. A rash act, Mr. Plunkett; but not one that implies madness." + +There ensued a silence. These interviews are usually attended by +embarrassment. + +"I have intruded on you this morning to express my best sympathy, and +to ask whether I can be of any service to you, Captain Andinnian," +resumed the lawyer. "I beg your pardon: Sir Karl, I ought to say." + +Karl had raised his head in resentment--in defiance. It caused the +lawyer's break. + +"Nay, but you are Sir Karl, sir. You succeed to your brother." + +"The reminder grated on me, Mr. Plunkett." + +"The title's yours and the estates are yours. Every earthly thing is +yours." + +"Yes, yes; I suppose so." + +"Well, if we can do anything for you, Sir Karl, down +there"--indicating with a nod of his head the direction in which +Portland Island might be supposed to lie--"or at Foxwood, you have +only to send to us. I hope you understand that I am not speaking now +with a view to business, but as a friend," concluded Mr. Plunkett. +"I'll say no more now, for I see you are not yourself." + +"Indeed I am not," replied Karl. "I thank you all the same. As soon as +I can I must get down to my mother." + +The lawyer said good morning, and left him to his breakfast. But Karl +had no appetite: then, or for many a day to come. Calling for his +bill, he took his departure. + +Never had Karl imagined distress and anguish so great as that which he +witnessed on his arrival at Weymouth. For once all his mother's pride +of power had deserted her. She flung herself at the feet of Karl, +demanding _why_ he did not persist in his objection to the +contemplated attempt, and interfere openly, even by declaring all to +the governor of Portland prison, and so save his brother. It was +altogether too distressing for Karl to bear. + +The first account was in the main correct. Adam Andinnian and the +warder were both dead: the one shot, the other drowned. + +It was understood that the body might be given up to them for burial. +Though whether this was a special favour, accorded to the entreaties +of Mrs. Andinnian, or a not-unusual one, Karl knew not. He was glad of +this, so far: but he would have thought it better that the place of +interment should be Weymouth, and the ceremony made one of the utmost +privacy. Mrs. Andinnian, however, ruled otherwise. She would have her +unfortunate son taken to Foxwood, and she at once despatched Karl +thither to make arrangements. + +On the day but one after Karl reached Foxwood, all that remained of +poor Sir Adam arrived. Mrs. Andinnian came in company. She could not +bear to part even with the dead. + +"I wish I could have been him," remarked Karl sadly, as he stood with +his hand on the coffin. + +"I have seen him, Karl," she answered amid her blinding tears. "They +suffered me to look at him. His face was peaceful." + +They, and they only, saving Hewitt, attended the funeral. He was +buried in the family vault, in Foxwood churchyard, side by side with +Sir Joseph and Lady Andinnian. + +What an ending, for a young man who, but a few short months before, +had been full of health and hope and life! + +But the world, in its cold charity; said it was better so. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +In the Avenue d'Antin. + + +New Year's Day. Or, as the French more emphatically term it, the Jour +de l'An. Gay groups went strolling along the Boulevards in the glowing +sunshine, gazing at the costly étrennes displayed in the tempting +shops: women glancing at the perfect attire of other women that +passed; men doffing their hats so perpetually that it almost seemed +they might as well have kept them off altogether; children in their +fantastic costumes chattering to their mothers, and turning their +little heads on all sides: all, men, women, and children, apparently +free from every care, save that of pleasure, which constitutes so +observable a feature in Parisian life. + +Amidst the crowd, passing onwards with a listless step, as if pleasure +had no part in his heart and he had no use for étrennes, was a +solitary individual: a distinguished looking man of pleasing features +and altogether refined face, whom few of the traversers could have +mistaken for aught but an Englishman. His mourning apparel and a +certain air of sadness that pervaded his face seemed to be in unison. +Several women--ingrained coquettes from their birth, as French women +nearly always are born to be--threw glances of admiration at the +handsome man, in spite of the fact that their husbands--for that one +day--were at their side; and wondered what near relative he had lost. +But the gentleman passed on his listless way, seeing them not, and +utterly unconscious that any answering glances from his own eyes were +coveted. It was Sir Karl Andinnian. + +Close upon the burial of his ill-fated brother Adam, Mrs. Andinnian, +prostrate with grief and trouble, took to confine herself to her own +apartment at Foxwood Court: for it was at that residence she +thenceforth took up her abode. Karl found himself nearly altogether +excluded from her presence. Even at meals she declined to join him, +and caused them to be served for herself apart. "Do you wish me away +from Foxwood?" Karl one day asked her. "I do; I would be entirely +alone," was her reply. "I am aware that Foxwood is yours now, Karl, +and you may think I have no right even to express a hint that you +might for a time leave it; but I feel that the chance of my regaining +strength and spirits would be greater if left entirely to myself: your +presence here is a strain upon me." + +The answer was to Karl welcome as sunshine in harvest. He had been +longing to travel; to try and find some relief from his thoughts in +hitherto untrodden scenes: consideration for his mother--the +consciousness that it would be wrong both in duty and affection +to leave her--had alone prevented his proposing it. Within +four-and-twenty hours after this he had quitted Foxwood. + +But Karl was not so soon to quit England. Various matters had to be +settled in regard to the estate; and when he reached London his +lawyers, Plunkett and Plunkett, said they should want him for a little +while. The crime committed by Sir Adam so immediately upon the death +of Sir Joseph, had caused a vast deal of necessary business to remain +in abeyance. Certain indispensable law proceedings to be gone through, +had to be gone through now. So Karl Andinnian perforce took up his +temporary abode in London; and at the end of a week or two, when he +found himself at liberty, he crossed over the water, Vienna being his +first halting place. The sojourn there of a former brother officer, +Captain Lamprey, who had been Karl's chiefest friend and stuck to him +in his misfortunes, induced it. Captain Lamprey was staying in Vienna +with his newly married wife, and he wrote to ask Karl to join them. +Karl did so. Captain Lamprey's term of leave expired the end of +December. He and his wife were going home to spend the Christmas, and +Karl accompanied them as far as Paris. Mrs. Andinnian, in answer to a +question from Karl, whether she would like him to return to her for +Christmas, had written back to him a resolute and ungracious No. + +So here he was, in Paris. It was all the same to him; this +resting-place or that resting-place. His life had been blighted in +more ways than one. Of Lucy Cleeve he thought still a great deal too +much for his peace. She was far enough removed from him in all senses +of the word. In a letter received by Captain Lamprey from some friends +at Winchester, it was stated that the Cleeves were wintering in Egypt. +Where Karl's own place of sojourn was next to be, he had not decided, +but his thoughts rather turned towards every chief continental city +that was famed for its gallery of paintings. He thought he would make +a pilgrimage to all of them. Karl had the eye of a true artist: to +gaze at good paintings was now the only pleasure of his life. He had +not yet anything like done with those in Paris and Versailles. + +On, upon his course along the Boulevards, passed he. Now and again his +eyes turned towards the lovely étrennes with a longing: once in a way, +when the throngs allowed him, he halted to look and admire: a longing +to buy étrennes himself, and that he had some one to give them to when +bought. It was not well possible for any body to feel more completely +isolated from the happy world than did Karl Andinnian. + +"How d'ye do, Sir Karl? Charming day for the holiday, is it not!" + +Sir Karl made some answering assent, raised his hat, bowed, and passed +on. The remark had come from an Englishman with whom he had a slight +acquaintance, who had come out shop-gazing with his flock of +daughters. + +He went straight home then to his hotel--Hotel Montaigne, Rue +Montaigne. As he crossed the courtyard, the landlord--a ponderous +gentleman with a ponderous watch-chain--came out and gave him some +letters. From some cause the English delivery had been late that +morning. + +One of the letters was from Captain Lamprey, the other from Plunkett +and Plunkett. Neither contained any interest; neither thought to wish +him happiness for the New Year. It was all the same to Karl Andinnian: +the New Year could not have much happiness in store for him. + +He strolled out again, turning his steps towards the Champs Elysées. +It was but one o'clock yet, and the brightest part of the day. At one +of the windows of the palace he fancied he caught a transient glimpse +of the Empress. Shortly afterwards, the peculiar clatter of the Prince +Imperial's escort was heard advancing, surrounding the little prince +in his carriage. + +The Champs Elysées were bright to-day. Children attired in silks and +satins were playing in the sun, their bonnes sitting by in their +holiday costume. New Year's Day and All Saints' Day are the two most +dressy epochs in the year in France--as everybody knows. Invalids sat +in the warmth: ladies flitted hither and thither like gay butterflies. +By a mere chance, Karl always thought it so, his eyes fell on two +ladies seated alone on a distant bench. Involuntarily his steps +halted; his heart leaped up with a joyous bound. They were Mrs. and +Miss Cleeve. + +But, ah how ill she looked--Lucy. The bounding heart fell again as +though some dead weight were pressing it. Thin, worn, white; with dark +circles round the eyes, and lips that seemed to have no life in them. +For a moment Karl wondered whether he might not approach and question +her: but he remembered his bargain with Colonel Cleeve. + +They did not see him: they were looking at some children in front of +them; playing at "Marlborough s'en va-t-en guerre." Karl pursued the +path he was on, which would carry him away from their bench at right +angles. He resolved that if they saw him he would go up and speak: if +they did not, he must continue his way. + +And he had to continue it. Mrs. Cleeve, Who did not look to be in +strong health either, seemed absorbed by the play and the childish +voices chanting the chanson; Lucy had now bent her forehead upon her +hand, as though some ache were there. Karl went on, out of sight, his +brow aching too. + +"Bon jour, monsieur." + +The salutation, which had a touch of surprised pleasure in its tone, +came from a natty-looking little Frenchwoman, with a thin red face and +shrewd grey eyes. She might have been given five-and-thirty years: but +in the register of her native _Mairie_ she would have been found hard +upon forty. Sir Karl stopped. She was Lucy's maid: formerly Lucy's +nurse. + +"C'est vous, Aglaé!" + +"Mais oui, monsieur." + +"I thought I saw Mrs. and Miss Cleeve sitting on a bench just now," +continued Karl; changing his language. "Are you staying in Paris?" + +"Oh, very long since," replied Aglaé, to whom both languages were +nearly alike. "Our apartment is close by, sir--a small house in the +Avenue d'Antin. The delight to find myself in my proper land again, +where I can go about without one of those vilain bonnets and hear no +street gamins hoot at me for it, is untellable." + +"I understood that Colonel Cleeve and his family had gone to Egypt for +the winter," observed Karl. + +"To Egypt, or to some other place of barbarisme: so it was projected, +sir. But my young lady, Miss Lucy, is not strong enough to be taken." + +"What is the matter with her?" asked Karl, with assumed quietness. + +"The matter? Oh! The matter is, that she has got no happiness left in +her heart, sir," cried Aglaé, explosively, as if in deep resentment +against things in general. "It's dried up. And if they don't mind, she +will just go unwarningly out of life. That's my opinion: and, mind, +sir, I do not go to say it without reason." + +A slight blush mantled in Karl's face. He seemed to be watching a red +paper kite, that was sailing beneath the blue sky. + +"They see it now, both of them; the Colonel and Madame; they see that +she's just slipping away from them, and _they_ are ill. Ah but! the +senseless--what you call it--distinctions--that the English set up!" + +"But what is the cause?" asked Karl. Though it seemed to him that he +could discern quite well without being answered. + +Aglaé threw her shrewd eyes into his. + +"I think, sir, you might tell it for yourself, that. She has not been +well since that fever. She was not well before the fever, since--since +about the month of May." + +He drew in his lips. Aglaé, with native independence, continued to +stare at him. + +"Why don't you call and see her, sir?" + +"Because--well, I suppose you know, Aglaé. I should not be welcome to +Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve." + +"And the poor young lady, who never did harm to living soul, is to be +let shrink down into her grave for the sake of English prejudice! _I_ +can see. I've got my wits about me, and have seen it all along. My +service to you, sir. Bon jour." + +The maid went on in a rage, her dainty cap nodding, her smart boots +going down rather more noisily than was needful. Sir Karl passed on +his way, thinking deeply. He walked about until the daylight was +fading, and then strode back rapidly to his hotel, with the air of a +man who is about to carry out some resolution that will not wait. _He_ +was. A resolution that had been floating in his mind before he' saw +Lucy or encountered her maid. + +Colonel Cleeve was seated alone that evening in his dining-room in the +Avenue d'Antin, when a letter was delivered to him. For a few minutes +he let it lie unheeded. The thoughts he was buried in were very +sad ones--they ran on the decaying strength of his only daughter. It +seemed to him and Mrs. Cleeve that unless some wonderful change--say a +miracle, for instance--interposed, Lucy's life was not worth many +weeks' purchase. They knew now--he and his wife--that the parting with +Karl Andinnian had been too cruel for her. + +Arousing himself from his gloomy visions, the Colonel opened the +note--which had been left by hand. Why here was a strange thing!--he +started in surprise. Started when he saw the contents of the letter +and the signature appended. Had the miracle come? + +It was one of the plain, candid, straightforward letters, so +characteristic of Karl Andinnian. He said that he had chanced to see +Miss Cleeve that day, that he had been shocked by her appearance; that +he had happened to hear from Aglaé subsequently how very alarmingly +she was failing. He went on to add with shrinking deprecation, every +word of which told of the most sensitive refinement, that he feared +the trouble of last May might have had something to do with it, and be +still telling upon her. He then put a statement of his affairs, as to +possessions and income, before Colonel Cleeve, and asked whether he +might presume again to address Lucy now that he could offer a good +settlement and make her Lady Andinnian. + +Three times over Colonel Cleeve read the note, pausing well to reflect +between each time. Then he sent for his wife. + +"He is of no family--and there's that dreadful slur upon it besides," +remarked the Colonel, talking it over. "But it may be the saving of +Lucy's life." + +"It is a good letter," said Mrs. Cleeve, reading it through her +eye-glass. + +"It's as good and proper a letter as any young man could write. All +his instincts are honourable. Some men might have written to Lucy +herself. Putting aside his lack of family and the other disrepute, we +could not wish a better son-in-law than Sir Karl Andinnian." + +"Yes," deliberated Mrs. Cleeve, after a pause. "True. The +disadvantages are great: but they seem little when balanced against +the chance of restoring Lucy's life. She will be a baronet's wife; she +will be sufficiently rich; and--I think--she will be intensely happy." + +"Then I'll send for him," said Colonel Cleeve. + +The interview took place on the following morning. It was a peculiar +one. Just as plainly open as Karl had been in his letter, so was the +Colonel now. + +"I think it may be the one chance for saving my child's life," he +said; "for there is no denying that she was very much attached to you, +Sir Karl. Sitting alone after dinner last evening, I was telling +myself that nothing short of a miracle could help her: the doctors say +they can do nothing, the malady is on her mind--though for my part I +think the chief ill is the weakness left by that ague-fever. Your +letter came to interrupt my thoughts; and when I read it I wondered +whether that was the miracle." + +"If you will only give me Lucy, my whole life shall be devoted to her +best comfort, sir," he said in a low tone. "My happiness was wrecked +equally with hers: but I am a man and therefore stronger to bear." + +"Nothing would have induced me to give her to you had your brother +lived," resumed the Colonel. "If I am too plain in what I say I must +beg you to excuse it: but it is well that we should understand each +other thoroughly. Yourself I like; I always have liked you; but the +disgrace reflected upon you was so great while your brother was +living, a convict, that to see Lucy your wife then would I think have +killed both me and Mrs. Cleeve. Take it at the best, it would have +embittered our lives for ever." + +"Had my unfortunate brother lived, I should never have attempted to +ask for her, Colonel Cleeve." + +"Right. I have observed that on most subjects your ideas coincide with +my own. Rather than that--the disgrace to her and to us; and grievous +though the affliction it would have brought to me and her mother--we +would rather have laid our child to rest." + +The deep emotion with which Colonel Cleeve spoke--the generally +self-contained man whose calmness almost bordered upon apathy--proved +how true the words were, and how terribly the sense of disgrace would +have told upon him. + +"But your unhappy brother has paid the forfeit of his crimes by +death," he continued, "and it is to be hoped and expected that in time +the remembrance of him and of what he did will die out of people's +minds. Therefore we have resolved to trust to this hope, and give you +Lucy. It will be better than to let her die." Sir Karl Andinnian drew +in his slender lips. But that he had passed through a course of most +bitter humiliation--and _that_, wherever it falls, seems for the time +to wash out pride--he might have shown resentment at the last words. +The Colonel saw he felt the sting: and he wished it had not been his +province to inflict it. + +"It was best to explain this, Sir Karl. Pardon me for its sound of +harshness. And now that it is over and done with, let me say that +never for a moment have I or Mrs. Cleeve blamed you. It was not your +fault that your brother lost himself; neither could you have helped +it: and we have both felt almost as sorry for you as though you had +been a relative of our own. I beg that henceforth his name may never +be mentioned between you and us: the past, so far as regards him, must +be as though it had never been. You will observe this reticence?" + +"Unquestionably." + +"The affair is settled then, Andinnian. Will you see Lucy?" + +"If I may," replied Karl, a bright smile succeeding to the sadness on +his face. "Does she know I am here?" + +"She knows nothing. Her mother thought it might be better that I +should speak to you first. You can tell her all yourself. But mind you +do it quietly, for she is very weak." + +Lucy happened to be alone in, the salon. She sat in a red velvet +arm-chair as big as a canopy, looking at the pretty étrenne her mother +had given her the previous day--a bracelet of links studded with +turquoise and a drooping turquoise heart. A smile of gratitude parted +her lips; though tears stood in her eyes, for she believed she should +not live to wear it long. + +"Lucy," said her father, looking in as he opened the door. "I-have +brought you a visitor who has called--Sir Karl Andinnian." + +Lucy rose in trembling astonishment; the morocco case, which had been +on her lap, falling to the ground. She wore a dress of violet silk, +and Aglaé had folded about her a white shawl--for chillness was +present with her still. Karl advanced, and the Colonel shut them in +together. + +He took both her hands in his, slipping the bracelet on to her +attenuated wrist,--and quietly held them. The poor wan face and the +hectic colour his presence had called up, had all his attention just +then. + +"I saw you in the Champs Elysées yesterday, Lucy. It pained me very +much to see you so much changed." + +"Did you see me? I was there with mamma. It is the fever I had in the +summer that hangs about me and does not let me yet get strong." + +"Is it _nothing_ else, Lucy?" + +The hectic deepened to crimson. The soft brown eyes drooped beneath +the gaze of his. + +"I fancied there might be another cause for it, Lucy, and I have +ventured to say so to Colonel Cleeve. He agrees with me." + +"You--you were not afraid to call here!" she exclaimed, as if the fact +were a subject of wonder. + +"What I had to say to Colonel Cleeve I wrote by letter. After that, he +invited me to call." + +Karl sat down on the red sofa opposite the chair, and put Lucy by him, +his arm entwining her waist. "I want you," he said, "to tell me +exactly what it is that keeps you from getting strong, Lucy." + +"But I cannot tell you, for I don't know," she answered with a little +sob. "I wish I could get well, Karl--for poor papa and mamma's sake." + +"Do you think I could do anything towards the restoration, Lucy?" he +continued, drawing her closer to his side. + +"What could you do?" + +"Watch you, and tend you, and love you. And--and make you my wife." + +"Don't jest, Karl," she said, whispering and trembling. "You know it +may not be." + +"But if Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve say that it may be?" + +The tone of his voice was redolent of anything but jesting: it was one +of deep truthful emotion. Lucy looked questioningly up at him. + +"Oh Karl, don't play with me! What do you mean?" + +He caught the sweet face, and held it to his. His own hands were +trembling, his race was pale as hers. But she could not mistake his +grave earnestness. + +"It means, my darling, that you are to be mine for ever. My wife. They +are going to give you to me: your father brought me here that I might +myself break it to you." + +A minute's doubting look; a slight shiver as if the joy were too +great; and then with a sigh she let her head fall on his breast--its +future resting-place. + +"And what's this that you were looking at, Lucy?" he asked after a +while, turning the pretty bracelet round and round her wrist. + +"Mamma bought it me yesterday for my New Year's étrenne. I was +thinking--before you came--that I might not live to wear it." + +"I was thinking yesterday, Lucy, as I walked along the Boulevards, +that I would give a great deal to have some one to buy étrennes for. +It is not too late, is it? Meanwhile----" + +Breaking off his sentence, he took a very rare ring from his finger, +one of the most brilliant of opals encompassed by diamonds. She had +never seen him wear it before. + +"Oh, how very beautiful!" she exclaimed, as it flashed in a gleam of +reflected sunlight. + +"I do not give it you, Lucy," he said, putting it upon her finger. "I +lend it you until I can find another fit to replace it. That may be in +a day, or so. This ring was my father's: made a present of to him by +an Eastern Sultan, to whom he was able to render an essential service. +At my father's death it came to my brother: and--later--to me." + +Karl's voice dropped as he was concluding. Lucy Cleeve felt for him; +she knew what _he_ must feel at the allusion. She glided her hand into +his, unsought. + +"So until then this ring shall be the earnest of our betrothal, Lucy. +You will take care of it: and of my love." + +The ring was the same that had been seen on Sir Adam's finger at the +trial. On that same day, after his condemnation, he had taken it off, +and caused it to be conveyed to Karl--his, from henceforth. But Karl +had never put it on his own finger until after his brother's death. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +Down at Foxwood. + + +As Sir Karl Andinnian was leaving the house, he saw Colonel and Mrs. +Cleeve in the dining-room. The latter held out her hand to Karl. He +clasped it warmly. + +"I am glad it is settled," she said, in a low, impressive tone. "You +will take good care of her, I know, and make her happy." + +"With the best energies of my heart and life," was his earnest answer. +"Dear Mrs. Cleeve, I can never sufficiently thank you." + +The voices penetrated to a dressing-chamber at the end of the short +passage, the door of which was ajar. A lady in travelling attire +peeped out. It was Miss Blake, who had just arrived from England +somewhat unexpectedly. Karl passed out at the front door. Miss Blake's +eyes, wide open with astonishment, followed him. + +"Surely that was Captain Andinnian!" she exclaimed, advancing towards +the dining-room. + +"Captain Andinnian that used to be, Theresa," replied Colonel Cleeve. +"He is Sir Karl Andinnian now." + +"Yes, yes; but one is apt to forget new titles," was her impatient +rejoinder. "I heard he was staying in Paris. What should bring him in +_this_ house? Is he allowed to call at _it_." + +"For the future he will be. He is to have Lucy. Mrs. Cleve will tell +you about it," concluded the Colonel. "I must write my letters." + +Mrs. Cleeve was smiling meaningly. Theresa Blake, utterly puzzled, +looked from one to the other. "Have Lucy!" she cried. "Have her for +what?" + +"Why, to be his wife," said Mrs. Cleeve. "Could you not have guessed, +Theresa?" + +"To--be--his--wife!" echoed Miss Blake. "Karl Andinnian's wife! No, +no; it cannot be." + +"But it _is_, Theresa. It has been settled to-day. Sir Karl has now +gone out from his first interview with her. Why, my dear, I quite +believe that if we had not brought it about, Lucy would have died. +They are all the world to each other." + +Miss Blake went back to her room with her shock of agony. From white +to scarlet, from scarlet to white, changed her face, as she sat down +to take in the full sense of the news, and what it inflicted on her. A +cry went up aloud to Heaven for pity, as she realized the extreme +depth of her desolation. + +This second blow was to Miss Blake nearly, if not quite, as cruel as +the first had been. It stunned her. The hope that Karl Andinnian would +return to her had been dwelt on and cherished as the weeks had gone +on, until it became as a certainty in her inmost heart. Of course, his +accession to wealth and honours augmented the desirability of a union +with him, though it could not augment her love. She had encouraged the +secret passion within her; she had indulged in sweet dreams of the +future; she had rashly cherished an assurance that she should, sooner +or later, become Sir Karl's wife. To find that he was indeed to have +Lucy was truly terrible. + +Miss Blake had undergone disappointment on another score. The new +modes of worship in Mr. Blake's church, together with the Reverend Guy +Cattacomb, had collapsed. Matters had gone on swimmingly until the +month of December. Close upon Christmas the rector came home: it +should, perhaps, be mentioned that his old curate had died. Mr. Blake +was hardly fit to return to his duties; but the reports made to him of +the state of things in his church (they had been withheld during his +want of strength), brought him back in grief and shame. His first act +was to dismiss the Rev. Guy Cattacomb: his second to sweep away +innovations and restore the service to what it used to be. Miss Blake +angrily resented this but she was unable to hinder it. Her occupation +in Winchester was gone; she was for the present grown tired of the +place, and considered whither her steps should be next directed. She +had a standing invitation to visit the Cleeves, and felt inclined to +do so; for she loved the gay Parisian capital with all her heart. +Chance threw her in the way of Captain Lamprey. She heard from him +that Sir Karl Andinnian was in Paris; and it need not be stated that +the information caused the veering scale to go down with a run. +Without writing to apprise Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve, she started. And, +in the first few minutes of her arrival at their house, she was +gratified by the sight of Karl; and heard at the same time the +startling tidings that destroyed her hopes for ever. + +It was like a fate. _Comme un sort_, as Mademoiselle Aglaé might have +phrased it. Only a few months before, when Miss Blake got home to +Winchester from Paris, her heart leaping and bounding with its love +for Karl Andinnian, and with the prospect of again meeting him, she +had been struck into stone at finding that his love was Lucy's; so +now, hastening to Paris from Winchester with somewhat of the same kind +of feelings, and believing he had bade adieu to Lucy for ever, she +found that the aspect of matters had altered, and Lucy was to be the +wife of his bosom. Miss Blake's state of mind under this shock was not +an enviable one. And--whereas she had hitherto vented her silent anger +on Lucy, woman fashion, she now turned it on Karl. What right, she +asked herself, forgetting the injustice of the question, what right +had he to go seeking Lucy in Paris, when she had been so unequivocally +denied to him for ever? It was a worse blow to her than the first had +been. + +Waiting until the trace of some of the anguish had passed from her +white face, until she had arranged her hair and changed her travelling +dress, and regained composure of manner, she went into the presence of +Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve. They were yet in the dining-room, talking of +Lucy's future prospects; getting, in fact, with every word more and +more reconciled to them. + +"The alliance will be an everlasting disgrace to you," quietly spoke +Miss Blake. "It will degrade Lucy." + +"I do not see it, Theresa," said the Colonel. "I do not think any +sensible people will see it in that light. And consider Lucy's state +of health! Something had to be sacrificed to that. This may, and I +believe will, restore her; otherwise she would have died. The love +they bear for each other is marvellous--quite out of the common." + +Theresa bit her pale lips to get a little colour in them. "A min whose +brother was tried and condemned for wilful murder, and who died a +convict striving to escape from his lawful fetters! He is no proper +match for Lucy Cleeve." + +"The man is dead, Theresa. His crimes and mistakes have died with him. +Had he lived, the convict, we would have followed Lucy to the grave +rather than allowed one of the Andinnian family to enter ours." + +Theresa played with a tremendously big wooden cross of black wood, +that she wore appended to a long necklace of black beads--the whole +thing most incongruously unbecoming, and certainly not in the best of +taste in any point of view. That she looked pale, vexed, disturbed, +Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve saw: and they set it down in their honest and +simple hearts to her anxiety for Lucy. + +"Against Sir Karl Andinnian nothing can be urged, Theresa: and his +brother, as I say, is dead," pursued the Colonel. "In himself he is +everything that can be desired: a sweet-tempered, honourable +gentleman. He is a baronet of the realm now, you know; and his +proposed settlement on Lucy is good." + +"I don't call him rich," doggedly returned Miss Blake. "Compare him +with some baronets." + +"And compare him, on the other hand, with others! His income averages +about seven thousand a-year, I believe. Out of that he will accord his +mother a good portion while she lives. Compare that with my income, +Theresa--as we are on the subject of comparisons; I cannot count +anything like _two_ thousand." + +"Are you sure that he is worthy of Lucy in other ways?" resumed Miss +Blake, her tone unpleasantly significant. "I have heard tales of him." + +"What tales?" + +"Words dropped from the officers at Winchester. To the effect that he +is _wild_." + +"I can hardly believe that he is," said the Colonel, uneasily, after a +pause. "I should dislike to give Lucy to any man of that kind." + +"Oh, well, it may not be true," returned Miss Blake, her suggestive +conscience reminding her that she was saying more than she ought: or, +rather, giving a colouring to it that she was not altogether justified +in. "You know little Dennet. More than a year ago--it was before I +went abroad--he was talking at the rectory one day about the officers +generally, hinting that they were unsteady. I said--of course it was +an absurd thing for me to say--that I felt sure Mr. Andinnian was +steady: and Dennet rejoined, in a laughing kind of way, that Andinnian +was as wild as the rest. That's the truth," concluded Miss Blake, +honestly, in obedience to her conscience. + +Not very much, you will think; but Colonel Cleeve did not like the +doubt it implied; and he resolved to set it at rest, if questioning +could do it. That same evening, when Karl arrived to dinner, as +invited, the Colonel caused him to be shown into a little apartment, +that was as much a boot-closet as anything else: but they were cramped +for room in the Avenue D'Antin. Colonel Cleeve was standing by the +fire. He and Karl were very much alike in one particular--that of +unsophistication. In his direct, non-reticent manner, he mentioned the +hint he had received, giving as nearly as possible the words Theresa +had given. + +"Is it true, or is it not, Sir Karl?" + +"It is not true: at least, in the sense that I fear you may have been +putting upon it," was the reply: and Karl Andinnian's truthful eyes +went straight out to the Colonel's. "When I was with the regiment I +did some foolish things, sir, as the others did, especially when I +first joined: a young fellow planted down in the midst of careless men +can hardly avoid it, however true his own habits and principles may +be. But I soon drew in. When my father lay on his dying bed, he gave +me some wise counsel, Colonel Cleeve." + +"Did you follow it?" + +"If I did not quite always, I at any rate mostly tried to. Had I been +by inclination one of the wildest of men, events would have surely +sobered me. My acquaintance with Lucy, the love for her that grew up +in my heart, would have served to keep me steady; and since then there +has been that most dreadful blow and its attendant sorrow. But I was +not wild by inclination: quite the contrary. On my word, Colonel +Cleeve, I have not gone into the reckless vice and folly that some men +go into; no, not even in my days of youth and carelessness. I can +truly say that I have never in my life done a wrong thing but I +have been bitterly ashamed of it afterwards, whatever its nature; +and--and--have asked forgiveness of God." + +His voice died away with the last hesitating sentence. That he was +asserting the truth as before Heaven, Colonel Cleeve saw, and judged +him rightly. He took Karl's hands in his: he felt that he was one amid +a thousand. + +"God keep you, for a true man and a Christian!" he whispered. "I could +not desire one more worthy than you for my daughter." + +When they reached the drawing-room, Lucy was there: Lucy, who had not +joined in the late dinner for some time past. She wore pink silk; she +had a transient colour in her face, and her sweet brown eyes lighted +up at sight of Karl. As he bent low to speak to her, Theresa Blake +covered her brow, as though she had a pain there. + +"Madame est servie." + +Sir Karl advanced to Mrs. Cleeve, as in duty bound. She put him from +her with a smile. "I am going on by myself, Karl. Lucy needs support, +and you must give it her. The Colonel has to bring Miss Blake." + +And as Karl took her, nothing loth, under his arm, and gave her the +support tenderly, Miss Lucy blushed the rosiest blush that had been +seen in her face for many a month. Mademoiselle Aglaé, superintending +the arrangement of the round table, had taken care that their seats +should be side by side. Theresa's fascinated eyes, opposite, looked at +them more than there was any need for. + +"Lucy has got a prize," whispered the Colonel to her, as she sat on +his right hand. "A prize if ever there was one. I have been talking to +him about that matter, Theresa, and he comes out nobly. And--do you +see how changed Lucy is, only in this one day? how well and happy she +looks? Just think! it was only this time last night that his note was +brought in." + +Miss Blake did see. Saw a great deal more than was agreeable; the +unmistakable signs of mutual love amidst the rest. Her own feelings +were changing: and she almost felt that she was not far off hating her +heart's cherished idol, Karl Andinnian, with a jealous and bitter and +angry hatred. But she must wait for that. Love does not change to hate +so quickly. + +It was decided that the marriage should take place without delay; at +least, with as little delay as Lucy's health should allow. Perhaps in +February. Day by day, she grew better: appetite returned, spirits +returned, the longing to get well returned: all three very essential +elements in the case. At a week or two's end Lucy was so much stronger +that the time was finally fixed for February, and Sir Karl wrote to +tell Plunkett and Plunkett to prepare the deeds of settlement. He also +wrote to his mother--which he had somewhat held back from doing: for +instinct told him the news would terribly pain her; that she would +accuse him of being insensible to the recent loss of his brother. And +he found that he had judged correctly; for Mrs. Andinnian did not +vouchsafe him any answer. + +It grieved him much: but he did not dare to write again. It must be +remembered that the relations between Karl and his mother were quite +exceptional ones. She had kept him at a distance all his life, had +repressed his instincts of affection; in short, had held him in +complete subjection. If she chose not to accord him an answer, Karl +knew that he should only make matters worse by writing to ask why she +would not. + +"He has forgotten his ill-fated brother: he casts not a thought to my +dreadful sorrow; he is hasting with this indecent haste to hear the +sound of his own gay wedding bells!" As surely as though he had heard +her speak the complaints, did Karl picture to himself the manner of +them. In good truth, he would no have preferred to marry so soon +himself; but it was right that private feelings should give way to +Lucy. They were in a hurry to get her to a warmer place; and it +was deemed better that Karl should go with her as her husband than +as her lover. In the latter case, Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve must have +gone--and he, the Colonel, wanted to be in England to attend to some +matters of business. Sir Karl and his wife were to stay away for a +year; perhaps more; the doctors thought it might be well for Lucy. +Karl was only too glad to acquiesce: for the arrangement, as he +candidly avowed, would leave him at liberty to allow his mother a +year's undisturbed possession of Foxwood. And so the month of January +came to an end, Lucy gaining ground regularly and quickly. As to Miss +Blake, she stayed where she was, hardening her heart more and more +against Karl Andinnian. + +On the 6th of February Sir Karl went to London. The marriage was to +take place in Paris on the 12th. He had various matters to transact, +especially with his lawyers. The deeds of settlement on Lucy, +previously despatched to Paris by Plunkett and Plunkett, had been +already signed. When in London Karl wrote a short note to his mother, +saying he was in town, and should run down to Foxwood to see her. In +her reply, received by return of post, she begged he would not go down +to Foxwood, as it might "only upset her"--if, the words ran, she might +so far presume to deny his entrance to his own house. + +It was rather a queer letter. Karl thought so as he studied it. By one +of the sentences in it, it almost seemed as though Mrs. Andinnian were +not aware of his projected marriage. The longer he reflected, the more +desirable did it appear to him that he should see her. So he wrote +again, craving pardon for disobeying her, but saying he must come +down. + +About six-o'clock in the evening he reached Foxwood. It was the last +day of his stay; on the following one he must depart for Paris. A +servant-maid admitted him, and Hewitt came out of the dining-room. The +man's face wore a look of surprise. + +"I suppose my mother is expecting me, Hewitt." + +"I think not, Sir Karl. I took a telegram to the station this morning, +sir, to stop your coming," he added in a confidential tone, as he +opened the door to announce his master. + +Mrs. Andinnian was dining in solitary state in the solitary +dining-room. She let fall her knife and fork, and rose up with an +angry glare. Her dress was of the deepest mourning, all crape. Save +the widow's cap, she had not put on mourning so deep for her husband +as she wore for her ill-fated son. + +"How did you dare to come, after my prohibitory telegram, Karl?" she +exclaimed, imperiously. + +"I have had no telegram from you, mother," was his reply. "None +whatever." + +"One was sent to you this morning." + +"I missed it, then. I have been about London all day, and did not +return to the hotel before coming here." + +He had been standing close to her with his hand extended. She looked +fixedly at him for a few moments, and then allowed her hand to meet +his. + +"It cannot be helped, now; but I am not well enough to entertain +visitors," she remarked. "Hewitt, Sir Karl will take some dinner." + +"You surely do not look on me as a visitor," he said, smiling, and +taking the chair at table that Hewitt placed. But, for all the smile, +there was pain at his heart. "My stay will be a very short one, +mother," he added, "for I must be away long before dawn to-morrow +morning." + +"The shorter the better," answered Mrs. Andinnian. And Sir Karl could +not help feeling that it was scarcely the thing to say to a man coming +to his own house. + +He observed that only Hewitt was waiting at table: that no one else +was called to bring in things required by the fact of his unexpected +intrusion. Hewitt had to go backwards and forwards. During one of +these absences Karl asked his mother _why_ she should have objected to +his coming. + +"You have been told," she answered. "I am not in a state to bear the +least excitement or to see any one. No visitor whatever is welcomed at +Foxwood. My troubles are great, Karl." + +"I wish I could lighten them for you, mother." + +"You only increase them. But not willingly, I am sure, Karl. No fault +lies with you." + +It was the kindest thing she had said to him. As they went on talking, +Karl became more and more convinced, from chance expressions, that she +was in ignorance of his engagement and approaching marriage. When +Hewitt had finally left them together after dinner, Karl told her of +it. It turned out that Mrs. Andinnian had never received the letter +from Paris: though where the fault lay, Karl could not divine. He +remembered that he had given it to the waiter of the Hôtel Montaigne +to post--a man he had always found to be very exact. Whether he had +neglected it, or whether the loss lay at the door of the post itself, +the fact was the same--it had never reached Mrs. Andinnian. + +She started violently when Karl told her. He noticed it particularly, +because she was in general so cold and calm a woman. After staring at +Karl for a minute or two she turned her gaze to the fire and sat in +silence, listening to him. + +"Married!" she exclaimed, when he had stopped. "Married!--and your +brother scarcely cold in his dishonoured grave! It must not be, Karl." + +Karl explained to her why it must be. Lucy's health required a more +genial climate, and he had to take her to one without delay. When +respect for the dead and consideration for the living clash, it was +right and just that the former should give way, he observed. Mrs. +Andinnian did not interrupt him; and he went on to state the +arrangements he had completed as to Lucy's settlement. He then +intimated, in the most delicate words he could use, that their +proposed prolonged residence abroad would afford his mother at present +undisturbed possession of Foxwood; and he mentioned the income (a very +liberal one) he had secured to her for life. + +She never answered a word. She made no comment whatever, good or bad; +but sat gazing into the fire as before. Karl thought she was +hopelessly offended with him. + +He said that he had a letter to write. Mrs. Andinnian gave a dash at +the bell and ordered Hewitt to place ink and paper before Sir Karl. +When tea came in she spoke a few words--asking whether he would take +sugar and such like--but, that excepted, maintained her silence. +Afterwards, she sat at the fire again in her arm-chair; buried in +disturbed thought; and then she rose to pace the room with uncertain +steps, like one who is racked by anxious perplexity. At first Karl +felt both annoyed and vexed, for he thought she was making more of the +matter than she need have done; but soon he began to doubt whether she +had not some trouble upon her apart from him and his concerns. A word, +that unwittingly escaped her, confirmed him in this. + +"Mother," he said, "you seem to be in great distress of your own: for +I cannot believe that any proceedings of mine would thus disturb you." + +"I am, Karl. I am." + +"Will you not let me share it, then?--and, if possible, soothe it? You +will find me a true son." + +Mrs. Andinnian came back to her seat and replied calmly. "If you could +help me in any way, Karl, you should hear it. But you cannot--you +cannot, that I can see. Man is born to trouble, you know, as the +sparks fly upwards." + +"I thought that _I_ had offended you: at least, pained you by my +coming marriage. It grieved me very much." + +"My trouble is my own," she answered. + +Karl could not imagine what it could be. He tried to think of various +causes--just as we all do in a similar case--and rejected them again. +She had always been a strangely independent, secretive woman: and such +women, given to act with the daring independence of man, but +possessing not man's freedom of power, may at times drift into +troubled seas. Karl greatly feared it must be something of this kind. +Debt? Well, he did _not_ think it could be debt. He had never known of +any outlets of expense: and surely, if this were so, his mother would +apply to him to release her. But, still the idea kept coming back +again: for he felt sure she had not given the true reason for wishing +to keep him away from Foxwood, and he could not think of any other +trouble. Sunk in these thoughts, he happened to raise his glance and +caught his mother's sharp eyes inquisitively fixed on him. + +"What are you deliberating upon, Karl?" + +"I was wondering what your care could be." + +"Better not wonder. _You_ could not help me. Had my brave Adam been +alive, I might have told him. He was daring, Karl; you are not." + +"Not daring, mother? I? I think I am sufficiently so. At any rate, I +could be as daring as the best in your interests." + +"Perhaps you might. But it would not serve me, you see. And +sympathy--the sympathy that my poor lost Adam gave me--I have never +from you sought or wished for." + +She was plain at any rate. Karl felt the stab, just as he had felt +many other of her stabs during his life. Mrs. Andinnian shook off her +secret thoughts with a kind of shiver; and, to banish them, began +talking with Karl of ordinary things. + +"What has become of Ann Hopley?" he enquired. "She was much attached +to you: I thought perhaps you might have kept her on." + +"Ann Hopley?--oh, the servant I had at Weymouth. No, I did not keep +her on, Karl. She had a husband, you know." + +At ten o'clock Mrs. Andinnian wished him goodnight and good-bye, and +retired. Karl sat on, thinking and wondering. He was sorry she did not +place confidence in him, and so give him a chance of helping her: but +she never had, and he supposed she never would. At times--and this was +one--it had almost seemed to Karl as though she could not be his +mother. + + + + +CHAPTER X. +Mrs. Andinnian's Secret. + + +"Will you take anything, Sir Karl?" + +The question came from Hewitt, who had looked in to ask for orders for +the morning, arousing his master from a curious train of thought. + +"I don't mind a drop of hot brandy and water, Hewitt. Half a glass. +Something or other seems to have given me the shivers. Is it a cold +night?" + +"No, Sir Karl; the night's rather warm than cold." + +"Has my mother any particular trouble or worry upon her, Hewitt, do +you know?" he asked, as he mechanically watched the mixing of the +spirit and water. "She seems to be very much put out." + +"I have noticed it myself, sir; but I don't know what the cause is," +was the answer. "For my part, I don't think she has been at all +herself since Sir Adam's death. Loving him as she did--why, of course, +sir, it was a heavy blow; one not to be got over easily." + +"And that's true, Hewitt. How many servants have you here?" resumed +Karl, asking the question not really with any particular care to know, +but simply to turn the subject. + +"There's me and two maids, sir." + +"You and two maids!" echoed Karl, in surprise. "Yes, sir, me and two +maids. That's all; except the out o' door gardeners." + +"But that's not enough for Foxwood. It is only what we had in +Northamptonshire. How does the work get done? Why does my mother not +keep more?" + +"My mistress says she can't afford more, Sir Karl," returned Hewitt, +who seemed sore upon the point, and spoke shortly. + +"But she can afford more," returned Karl, impulsively; "a great many +more. Her income is a large one now." + +Hewitt rubbed his bald head with an air of perplexity. Karl spoke to +him of things that he would not have entered on with any less esteemed +and faithful servant. Hewitt had been so long in the family that he +seemed like an old confidential friend. From his boyhood's days, Karl +had looked up to Hewitt with respect The man stood before his master, +as if intending to wait and see him drink the brandy-and-water. + +"There can be no debts, you know, Hewitt," spoke Sir Karl, hastily. + +Hewitt did not evince any surprise whatever at the implied suggestion. +It seemed to be rather the contrary. + +"I have fancied that my mistress had some embarrassment on her mind, +sir, such as debt might cause," was the rejoinder, much to Karl's +astonishment. "I have fancied her money goes somewhere--though I +should never hint at such a thing to anybody but you, sir; nor to you +if you had not asked me. Perhaps Sir Adam left some debts behind him." + +"No, he did not, Hewitt. Any debts left by Sir Adam would have been +paid out of the estate before it came to me. Plunkett and Plunkett +informed me at once that there were no debts at all: except the costs +of the trial." + +"Then it must be some that have cropped up since: that is, the claim +for them," surmised Hewitt. "It is what I've thought myself, Sir +Karl." + +"But why have you thought it?" + +"Well, sir, one can't help one's thoughts," answered Hewitt, falling +away from the question--but not intentionally. "One evening, sir, when +my mistress seemed fit to die with trouble, I asked her if anything +had happened to vex her: and she answered--after looking at me sternly +in silence--No, nothing fresh; only some sorrow of a good many years +ago. It was the evening after that gentleman called, Sir Karl: a +gentleman who came and stayed with her ever so long." + +"What gentleman?" asked Karl. + +"Some stranger, sir; I didn't know him. He came up to the house and +asked for Mrs. Andinnian. I told him (they were my general orders) +that Mrs. Andinnian was not well enough to see visitors. Oh, indeed, +he said, and asked to come in and write a note. I was standing by when +he began to write it, and he ordered me to the other end of the room: +I suppose he feared I might look over. It seemed to me that he wrote +but one or two words, Sir Karl; not more: quite in a minute the paper +was folded and sealed--for he told me to light the taper. 'There,' +said he, 'take that to Mrs. Andinnian: I think she'll see me.' My +mistress was very angry when I took it to her, asking why I disobeyed +orders; but when she opened it, her face went deadly white, and she +bade me show the gentleman up to her sitting-room. He was there about +two hours, sir." + +Karl thought this rather strange. "What sort of man was he, Hewitt?" + +"A well-dressed gentleman, sir; tall. He had had a hurt to his left +arm, and wore it in a black silk sling. When he took it out of the +sling to seal the note, he could hardly use it at all. It was that +same evening after he had been, sir, that my mistress seemed so full +of trouble: a great deal more so than usual." + +"Did you hear his name?" + +"No, sir, I didn't hear his name. A tray of luncheon was ordered up +for him; and by the little that I heard said when I took it in and +fetched it away, I gathered that he was a gentleman applying for the +agency of your estate." + +"But I do not require an agent," cried Karl in some wonder. + +"Well, sir, I'm sure that's what the gentleman was talking of. And my +mistress afterwards said a word or two to me about the place being +neglected now Sir Karl was absent, and she thought she should appoint +an agent to look after it." + +"But the place is not neglected," reiterated Karl. "How long was this +ago?" + +"About three weeks, Sir Karl. I've not heard anything of it since, or +seen the gentleman. But my mistress seems to have some secret care or +uneasiness, apart from the death of Sir Adam. She seems always to be +in an inward worry--and you know how different from that she used to +be. It has struck me, Sir Karl, that perhaps that stranger came to +prefer some claims left by Sir Adam." + +Karl did not think this likely, and said so. But neither of them could +be at any certainty. + +"I wish you would write to me from time to time during my absence, +Hewitt, and let me know how my mother is," resumed Karl, dropping the +unsatisfactory subject. + +"And that I will with pleasure, Sir Karl, if you will furnish me with +an address to write to." + +"And be sure, Hewitt, that you send to me in any trouble or sickness. +I wish my poor mother's life was a less lonely one!" + +Hewitt shook his head as he left the room. He felt sure that his +mistress would never more allow her life to be anything but a lonely +one: the light of it had gone out of it for ever with her beloved son. + +Sir Karl went up to his chamber shortly. Before he had well closed his +door, a maid knocked at it, and said Mrs. Andinnian wished to see him. +Karl had supposed his mother to be in bed: instead of that, he found +her standing by the fire in her little sitting-room, and not +undressed. + +"Shut the door, Karl," she said--and he saw that her face was working +with some painful emotion. "I have been debating a question with +myself the better part of this evening, down stairs and up--whether or +no I shall disclose to you the trouble that is upon us: and I have +resolved to do so. Of two evils, it may, perhaps, be the least." + +"I am very glad indeed, my mother." + +"Hush!" she solemnly said, lifting a warning hand. "Speak not before +you know. Glad! It has been consideration for you, Sir Karl," she +added, in that stern and distant tone that so pained him, "that has +alone kept me silent. You have no doubt been thinking me unnaturally +cold and reserved; but my heart has been aching. Aching for you. If I +have not loved you with the passionate love I bore for your poor +brother--and oh, Karl, he was my firstborn!--I have not been so +neglectful of you as you may imagine. In striving to keep you away +from Foxwood, I was but anxious that your peace should not be +imperilled earlier than it was obliged to be." + +"Let me hear it mother. I can bear it, I daresay." + +"You may _bear_ it, Karl. A man can bear most things. But, my son, I +dread to tell it you. You will regard it as an awful calamity, a +frightful perplexity, and your spirit may faint under it." + +Karl smiled sadly. "Mother, after the calamities I have undergone +within the past year I do not think Fate can have any worse in store +for me." + +"Wait--and judge. Your anger will naturally fall on me, Karl, as the +chief author of it. Blame me, my son, to your heart's content: it is +my just due. I would soften the story to you if I knew how: but it +admits not of softening. What is done cannot be undone." + +Mrs. Andinnian rose, opened the door, looked up and down the corridor, +shut it again, and bolted it. "I do not need to fear eaves-droppers in +the house," she observed, "and the doors are thick: but this secret is +as a matter of life or death. Sit down there, Karl,"--pointing to a +chair opposite her own. + +"I would rather stand, mother." + +"Sit down," she reiterated: and Karl took his elbow from the +mantel-piece, and obeyed her. He did not seem very much impressed with +what he was about to hear: at least not to the extent that her +preparation seemed to justify. Each leaned forward, looking at the +other. Mrs. Andinnian had her arms on the elbows of her chair; Karl's +were crossed. + +"First of all, Karl, you will take an oath, a solemn vow to God, that +you will never disclose this secret to any human being without my +consent." + +"Is this necessary, mother?" + +"It is necessary for you and for me," she sharply answered, as if the +question vexed her. "I tell you nothing unless you do." + +Karl rose, and took the oath. Resuming his seat as before, he waited. + +No, she could not say it. They sat, gazing at each other, she in +agitation, he in expectancy; and for a minute or two she literally +could not say what she had to say. It came forth at last. Only four +words. + +Only four words. But Karl Andinnian as he heard them sprang up with a +cry: almost as the ill-fated man Martin Scott had sprung, when shot to +death by his brother. + +"Mother! This cannot be true!" + +Mrs. Andinnian went over to him and pushed him gently into his chair. +"Hush, Karl; make no noise," she soothingly whispered. "It would not +do, you see, for the household to be alarmed." + +He looked up at his mother with a kind of frightened gaze. She turned +away and resumed her seat. Karl sat still, tumultuous ideas crowding +on him one after another. + +"You should have disclosed this to me before I engaged myself to +marry," he cried at last with a burst of emotion. + +"But don't you see, Karl, I did not know of your intended marriage. It +is because you have informed me of it to-night that I disclose it +now." + +"Would you have kept it from me always?" + +"That could not have been. You must have heard it some time. Listen, +Karl: you shall have the story from beginning to end." + +It was one o'clock in the morning, before Karl Andinnian quitted his +mother's room. His face seemed to have aged years. Any amount of +perplexity he could have borne for himself, and borne it calmly; but +he did not know how to grapple with this. For what had been disclosed +to him ought to do away with his proposed marriage. + +He did not attempt to go to bed. The whole of the rest of the night he +paced his room, grievously tormented as to what course he should take. +The wind, howling and raging around the house--for it was one of the +most turbulent of nights--seemed but an index of his turbulent mind. +He knew that in honour he was bound to disclose the truth to Colonel +Cleeve and Lucy; but this might not be. Not only was he debarred by +his oath; but the facts themselves did not admit of disclosure. In the +confusion of his mind he said to his mother, "May I not give a hint of +this to Lucy Cleeve, and let her then take me or leave me?" and Mrs. +Andinnian had replied by demanding whether he was mad. In truth, it +would have been nothing short of madness. + +What to do? what to do? In dire distress Karl Andinnian strode the +carpet as he asked it. He might make some other excuse, if indeed he +could invent one, and write to break off the marriage--for, break it +off to their faces he could not. But, what would be the effect on +Lucy? Colonel Cleeve had not concealed that they gave her to him to +save her life. Were he to abandon her in this cowardly and heartless +manner, now at the eleventh hour, when they were literally preparing +the meats for the breakfast table, when Lucy's wedding lobe and wreath +were spread out ready to be worn, it might throw her back again to +worse than before, and verily and indeed kill her. It was a dilemma +that has rarely fallen on man. Karl Andinnian was as honest and +honourable a man as any in this world, and he could see no way out of +it: no opening of one. He might not impart to them so much as a hint +of the dreadful secret; neither could he inflict the stab that might +cost Lucy's life: on the other hand, to make Lucy his wife, knowing +what he now knew, would be dishonour unutterable. What was he to do? +What was he to do? There was absolutely no loophole of escape, no +outlet on either side. + +Karl Andinnian knelt down and prayed. Man, careless, worldly man, +rarely does these things. He did. In his dire distress he prayed to be +guided to the right. But all the uncertainty came back as he rose up +again, and he could not see his course at all. Very shortly Hewitt +knocked at his door: saying it was time for Sir Karl to get up, if he +would catch the passing train. When Sir Karl came forth Hewitt thought +how very quickly he had dressed. + +"It is a rough morning, sir," said Hewitt, as he opened the hall door. + +"Ay, I can hear that. Farewell, Hewitt." + +Delayed a tide by the non-controllable winds and waves, Sir Karl +reached Paris only on the evening of the eleventh. He drove at once +from the station to the Avenue d'Antin, and asked to see Lucy in +private. Torn by conflicting interests, he had at length resolved to +sacrifice his own sense of honour to Lucy's life. At least, if she +should not decide against it. + +She was looking radiant. She told him (in a jest) that they had +considered him lost, that all had prophesied he had decamped and +deserted her. Karl's smile in answer to this was so faint, his few +words were so spiritless and subdued, that Lucy, a little sobered, +asked whether anything was the matter. They were standing on the +hearth-rug: Karl a few steps apart from her. + +"What should you say if I had deserted you, Lucy?" + +"I should just have said Bon voyage, monsieur," she answered gaily, +never believing the question had a meaning. + +"Lucy, my dear, this is no time for jesting. I have come back with a +great care upon me. It is a fact, believe it or not as you will, that +I had at one time determined to desert you: to write and give you up." + +There was no immediate answer, and Karl turned his eyes on her. The +words told home. Her blanched face had a great terror dawning on it. + +"Sit down, Lucy, while you listen to me," he said, placing her in a +chair. "I must disclose somewhat of this to you, but it cannot be +much." + +Remaining standing himself, he told her what he could. It was a most +arduous task to speak at all, from the difficulties that surrounded +it. A great and unexpected misfortune had fallen upon him, he said; +one that from its nature he might not further allude to. It would take +away a good deal of his substance; it ought in short to debar his +marriage with her. He went on to tell of the conflict he had passed +through, as to whether he should quit her or not, and of his final +resolve to disclose so much to her, and to leave with her the +decision. If she decided against him, he would invent some other plea +to Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve for breaking off the marriage; or let the +act appear to come from her, as she should will. If she decided for +him, why then---- + +"Tell me one thing, Karl," she said as he broke down. "Has this matter +had its rise in any dishonour or ill-doing of yours?" + +"No," was the emphatic rejoinder. "I am as innocent in it, and until a +day or two ago, was as unconscious of it as you can be. You need not +fear that, Lucy." + +"Then on your part you need not have doubted me, Karl," she said, the +glad tears rising to her eyes with the intensity of her relief. "It +was cruel of you to think of a separation now. I am yours." + +"Lucy, look fully into the future. At least as fully as these +indefinite words of mine will admit of. I hope--I trust--that no +further complication may come of it; that it may be never known +to the world. But it may, and probably will, be otherwise. A great +calamity may fall upon us; in the world's eyes we should both be +dishonoured--_dishonoured_, Lucy; I through others, you through me." + +"I am yours; yours for all time," was the reiterated answer. + +"Very well, Lucy. So be it. But, my darling, if that blow should fall, +you may repent of your marriage with me. I know your parents would +repent it for you." + +"Hush, Karl!" she whispered, rising from her seat to the arms opening +to receive her. "_I_ repent? That can never be. My dearest friend, my +almost husband, I am yours for weal or for woe. Have you forgotten the +vows I shall take to you to-morrow in the sight of God? For richer for +poorer, for better for worse." + +"God bless you, Lucy! May God bless and protect us both." And as Sir +Karl held her to him, his frame shook with its own emotion, and a +scalding tear fell on her face from an aching heart. + + +The second week in March, just as nearly as possible a month after the +marriage, Sir Karl Andinnian received at Florence, where he and his +wife were staying, a telegram from Hewitt at Foxwood. It stated that +Mrs. Andinnian was ill with some kind of fever; it had taken a +dangerous turn, and her life might be a question of a few hours. + +As quickly as it was practicable for them to travel, Sir Karl and Lady +Andinnian reached Paris. Mrs. Cleeve and Miss Blake were still there; +the Colonel was in London. The Cleeves had let their house at +Winchester, and could not yet get back to it. Sir Karl left Lucy with +her mother: not daring, as he said, to take her on to Foxwood, lest +the fever should be infectious. The change in Lucy was wonderful: her +cheeks were plump and rosy, her eyes told their own unmistakable tale +of happiness. Mrs. Cleeve could do nothing but look at her. + +"We did well to give her to him," said she to Theresa. But, for +answer, Miss Blake only drew in her lips. The sting had not left her. + +"O Karl, my darling, don't stay long away from me!" whispered Lucy, +clinging to him in the moment of his departure. "And be sure take care +of yourself, Karl, and do not run any risk, if you can help it, of the +fever." + +With many a sweet word of reassurance, murmured between his farewell +kisses of passionate tenderness, Karl answered her. To part with one +another, even for this short and temporary space of time, seemed a +great trial. + +A change for the better had taken place in Mrs. Andinnian, when Karl +arrived at Foxwood. She was in no immediate danger. Mr. Moore, the +surgeon at Foxwood, informed him that he must not trust to this +improvement. The fever had in a degree subsided, but her state of +prostration was so great that he feared she might yet die of the +weakness. Karl inquired the nature of the illness: Mr. Moore replied +that it was a species of low fever more than anything else, and +appeared to have been induced chiefly by the sad state of mind Mrs. +Andinnian had been brought into, grieving over the fate of her elder +son. Dr. Cavendish of Basham (the neighbouring market town) had +attended regularly with Mr. Moore. Sir Karl at once telegraphed to +London for a physician of world-wide reputation. When this great +doctor arrived, he only confirmed the treatment and opinion of the +other two; and said that nothing could well be more uncertain than the +recovery of Mrs. Andinnian. + +Karl wrote these various items of information to his wife in Paris, +and showed her how impossible it was that he could quit his mother +during the uncertainty. Lucy replied by saying she should think very +ill of him if he could; but she begged him to allow her to come to +Foxwood and help him in the nursing, saying she was not afraid of the +fever. She added a pretty and affectionate message to Mrs. Andinnian +that she would find in her a loving daughter. The same post brought +Karl a letter from Mrs. Cleeve, who evidently _was_ afraid of the +fever. "_Do_ you take precautions for yourself, dear Sir Karl, and +_do_ you fumigate all letters before you send them out?" Such was its +chief burthen. + +Karl believed there was no danger from the fever: but, alas, he dared +not have Lucy. He had reached Foxwood only to find more complication +than ever in the unhappy secret disclosed to him by his mother. Only a +word or two dropped by her--and in her weak, and sometimes semi-lucid +state, he could not be sure she would not drop them--and Lucy might +know as much as he did. Besides, there was no establishment at Foxwood +sufficient to receive Lady Andinnian. + +Hour after hour, day after day, he sat by his mother's bedside. When +they were alone, she could only whisper of the trouble she had +disclosed to him. Karl felt that it was wearing her out. He told her +so, and she did not deny it. Never for a moment did she let the +subject rest: it filled her mind to the exclusion of everything else +in the world. + +Karl felt that death would inevitably end it: and he watched her grow +weaker. The strain upon his own mind was great. Brooding over the +matter as he did--for, in truth, to think of any other theme was not +practicable--he saw what a wrong he had committed in marrying Lucy. +Sir Karl's only interludes of change lay in the visits of the medical +men. Dr. Cavendish came once a day; Mr. Moore twice or thrice. The +latter was rather brusque in his manner, but kindly, keen, and +sensible. He was plain, with a red face and nose that turned up; and +brown hair tinged with grey. The more Karl saw of him, the more he +liked him: and he felt sure he was clever in his calling. + +"It is a great misfortune that Mrs. Andinnian should have taken poor +Sir Adam's death so much to heart," Mr. Moore one day observed to +Karl, when he found his patient exhausted, restless, in all ways +worse. "While she cultivates this unhappy frame of mind, we can do +nothing for her." + +"Her love for my brother was a great love, Mr. Moore; quite passing +the ordinary love of mothers." + +"No doubt of that. Still, Sir Karl, it is not right to let regret for +his death kill her." + +Karl turned the conversation. He knew how wrong were the surgeon's +premises. Her regret for his brother's death had been terrible: but it +was not that that was killing Mrs. Andinnian. + +The days went on, Mrs. Andinnian growing weaker and weaker. Her mind +had regained unfortunately all its activity: unfortunately because she +had not strength of body to counterbalance its workings. Karl had a +great deal to do for her: consultations to hold with her and letters +to write; but even yet he was not admitted to her full confidence. +During that night's interview with her, when he had learned so much, +he had enquired who the gentleman was that had called and taken +luncheon. Mrs. Andinnian had declined to answer him, further than it +was a Mr. Smith who had applied for the agency of Sir Karl's estate. +Hewitt informed him that Mr. Smith had called again the very day +succeeding Sir Karl's departure. He had held a long interview with +Mrs. Andinnian, and she had never been well since that hour. + +It was very strange: strange altogether. Karl now found out that Mr. +Smith had been appointed the agent, and had had a house side by side +with Foxwood Court assigned to him as his residence. The information +nearly struck Karl dumb. He felt sure there was more behind, some +inexplicable cause for this: but no more satisfactory explanation +could he obtain from his mother. "_She_ was ill, _he_ was going to +live abroad, therefore it was necessary some responsible person should +be on the spot to look after things," was all she said. And Mr. Smith +arrived at Foxwood and took up his abode: and Sir Karl did not dare to +forbid it. + +To Karl's intense surprise, the next letter he had from his wife was +dated London. They had left Paris and come over. With his whole heart +Karl hoped they would not be coming to Foxwood; and in his answering +letter he talked a good deal about the "fever." + +As to himself, he was wearing to a shadow. One might surely have +thought he had a fever, and a wasting one. In writing to Mrs. Cleeve +he admitted he was not well; and she wrote him back four pages full of +instructions for fumigation, and beseeching him not to come to them. +There is nothing like trouble to wear out a man. + +The event that had been prognosticated by the doctors and feared by +Karl took place--Mrs. Andinnian died. In the midst of praying for a +few days' longer life, she died. Only a few days, had run her +incessant prayer; a few days! Karl's anguish, what with the death, and +what with the weight of other things, seemed more than he could bear. +Mrs. Andinnian's grave was made close to that of her son Adam: and the +funeral was a very quiet one. + +Karl remained at Foxwood, ostensibly fumigating the house and himself +preparatory to joining his wife in town. He looked as much like a +skeleton as a man. Mr. Moore noticed it, and asked what was coming to +him. + +One day Mr. Smith, the agent, called, and was shown in to Sir Karl. +The interview lasted about twenty minutes, and then the bell was rung. + +"Is the gentleman going to remain here as your agent, sir?" enquired +Hewitt, with the familiarity of an old servant, when he had closed the +door on the guest. + +"Why, yes, Hewitt, while I am away. My mother appointed him. She +thought it better some one should be here to act for me--and I suppose +it is right that it should be so." + +Freely and lightly spoke Karl. But in good truth Mr. Smith fairly +puzzled him. He knew no more who he was or whence he came than he had +known before; though he did now know what his business was at Foxwood. +Mr. Smith's conversation during the interview had turned on the +Foxwood estate: but he must have been aware Sir Karl saw all the while +that his agency was only a blind--a blind to serve as a pretext for +his residence at Foxwood. The two were playing a shallow part of +pretence with one another. Mrs. Andinnian had fixed the amount of +salary he was to receive, and Sir Karl meant to continue the payment +of it. Why?--the reader may ask. Because Sir Karl dared not refuse; +for the man knew too much of Mrs. Andinnian's dangerous secret: and it +lay in his power to render it more dangerous still. + +At length Sir Karl went up to London to rejoin his wife. Lucy gave a +startled cry when she saw him--he was looking so ill; and Mrs. Cleeve +accused him of having had the fever. Karl turned it off lightly: it +was nothing, he said, but the confinement to his mother's sick-room. + +But Miss Blake, who was growing very keen in her propensity for making +the world better than it is, could not understand two things. Why Karl +need have lingered so long at Foxwood, or why he could not have had +his wife there. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +At the Gate of the Maze. + + +A more charming place than Foxwood Court presented in the summer +months when the rare and sweet flowers by which it was surrounded were +in bloom, could not have been found in the Kentish county. The mansion +was not very large, but it was exceedingly gay and pretty to look +upon; a white building with a goodly number of large windows, those on +the lower floor mostly opening to the ground, so that the terrace +could be gained from the rooms at will. The terrace--a gravel walk +with brilliant flower beds on either side--ran along the front and the +two sides of the house. A marble step or two in four places descended +to a lower walk, or terrace, and from thence there was spread out the +level lawn, a wide expanse, dotted with beds of flowers, and bounded +with groves of beautiful trees. The chief entrance to the house was in +its centre: a pillared portico, surmounting a flight of steps that led +down to the broad walk dividing the lawn. At the end of this walk +between the bank of trees were the large iron gates and the lodge; and +there were two or three small private gates of egress besides in the +iron palisades that enclosed the grounds beyond the trees. If there +was a fault to be found with the locality altogether, it perhaps was +that it had too many trees about it. + +The iron gates opened upon a broad highway: but one that from +circumstances, now to be explained, was not much used, except by +visitors to Foxwood Court. To the left of the gates a winding road led +round to the village of Foxwood; it lay in front, distant about a +quarter of a mile. To the right the road went straight to the little +railway station: but as there was also a highway from the village to +the station direct, cutting off all the round by Foxwood Court, it +will readily be understood why that part of the road was rarely used. +In the village of Foxwood there were a few good and a few poor houses; +some shops; a church and parsonage, the incumbent an elderly man named +Sumnor; Mr. Moore, the surgeon; and a solicitor, Mr. St. Henry, who +was universally called in the place Lawyer St. Henry. Some good +mansions were scattered about in the vicinity; and it was altogether a +favoured and attractive neighbourhood. + +In a small but very pretty room of Foxwood Court, at the side of the +house that looked towards the railway station, and faced the north, +sat Mrs. Cleeve and Miss Blake at breakfast. It was a warm and lovely +June morning. The table, set off with beautiful china from the +Worcester manufactories, with silver plate, and with a glass of choice +flowers, was drawn close to the window, whose doors were wide open. By +Mrs. Cleeve's hand lay a letter just received from her daughter, Lady +Andinnian, saying that she and Karl were really commencing their +journey home. + +But for interference, how well the world might get on! After Karl +Andinnian quitted Foxwood to rejoin his wife in London--as was related +previously--Lucy had so far regained her health and strength that +there was really no need for her to go, as had been arranged, to +another climate. She herself wished not to go, but to take up her +abode at once at Foxwood Court, and Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve seeing her +so well, said they would prefer that she should remain in England. +Karl, however, ruled it otherwise; and to the Continent he went with +his wife. Nothing more would have been thought of this, but for Miss +Blake. She was very keen-sighted, and she was fond of interference. +Somewhat of love still, anger, and jealousy rankled in her heart +against Karl Andinnian. Anything she could say against him she did +say: and she contrived to impress Mrs. Cleeve with a notion that he, +in a sort, had kidnapped Lucy and was taking her abroad for some +purposes of his own. She boldly averred that Sir Karl had been +_keeping_ his wife away from Foxwood by statements of the fever, and +such like, false and plausible: and that he probably meant to hide her +away from them in some remote place for ever. + +This served to startle Mrs. Cleeve--though she only half believed it. +She wrote to Sir Karl, saying that both herself and the Colonel wished +to see Lucy home, and begged of him to return and take up his abode at +Foxwood. Karl replied that Foxwood was not ready for them; there was +no establishment. Mrs. Cleeve wrote again--urging that she and Theresa +should go down and engage two or three servants, just enough to +receive himself and Lucy: afterwards they could take on more at will. +A few days' delay and Karl's second answer came. He thanked Mrs. +Cleeve for the trouble she offered to take, and accepted it: +specifying a wish that the servants should be natives of the +locality--and who had always lived in it. + +"Karl wishes to employ his poor neighbours," observed Mrs. Cleeve. "He +is right, Theresa. You must see how good and thoughtful he is." + +Theresa could find no cause to confute this much. But she was more and +more persuaded that Sir Karl would have kept Lucy away from Foxwood if +he could. And we must admit that it looked like it. + +Mrs. Cleeve lost no time in going down with Miss Blake to Foxwood +Court. Hewitt, who had been left in charge, with an elderly woman, +received them. They thought they had never seen a more respectable or +thoroughly efficient retainer than Hewitt. The gardeners were the only +other servants employed. They lived out of doors: the chief one, +Maclean, inhabiting the lodge with his wife. + +While Miss Blake was looking out for some young women servants, two or +three of whom were speedily found and engaged, she made it her +business to look also after the village and its inhabitants. That Miss +Blake had a peculiar faculty for searching out information, was +indisputable: never a better one for the task than she: and when an +individual is gifted with this quality in a remarkable degree, it has +to be more or less exercised. Miss Blake might have been a successful +police detective: attached to a private inquiry office she would have +made its fortune. + +And what she learnt gave her a profound contempt for Foxwood. We are +speaking of the village now: not the Court. In the first place, there +was no church: or, at least, what Miss Blake chose to consider none. +The vicar, Mr. Sumnor, set his face against views of an extreme kind, +and that was enough for Miss Blake to wage war with. Old Sumnor, to +sum him up in Miss Blake's words, might be conscientious enough, but +he was as slow as a tortoise. She attended his church the first +Sunday, and found it unbearably tame. There were no candles or flowers +or banners or processions: and there was no regular daily service +held. Miss Blake thought one might as well be without breakfast and +dinner. Foxwood was a benighted place and nothing less. + +Mr. Sumnor's family consisted of an invalid daughter left him by his +first wife; a second wife and two more daughters. Mrs. Sumnor kept him +in subjection, and her two daughters were showy and fast young ladies. +The surgeon, Mr. Moore, a widower, had four blooming girls, and a +sister, Aunt Diana, a kind of strong-minded female, who took care of +them. The young ladies were pretty, but common-place. As to the +lawyer, St. Henry, he had no children of his own, but had taken to a +vast many of his dead brother's. There were many other young ladies in +the vicinity; but it was an absolute fact that there were no +gentlemen--husbands and fathers of families excepted; for the few sons +that existed were gone out to make their way in the world. Miss Blake +considered it not at all a desirable state of things, and accorded it +her cool contempt. But the place showed itself friendly, and came +flocking in its simple manners and hearty good will to see the Hon. +Mrs. Cleeve, Lady Andinnian's mother, and to ask what it could do for +her. So that Miss Blake, whether she liked it or not, soon found +herself on terms of sociability with Foxwood. + +One morning an idea dawned upon her that seemed like a ray from +heaven. Conversing with the Miss St. Henrys, those ladies--gushing +damsels with enough brown hair on their heads to make a decent-sized +hayrick, and in texture it was nearly as coarse as hay--informed her +confidentially that they also considered the place dead, in the matter +of religion. Often visiting an aunt in London--whose enviable roof-top +was cast within the shadow of a high ritualistic establishment, +boasting of great hourly doings and five charming curates--it might +readily be imagined the blight that fell upon them when doomed to +return to Foxwood Church and plain old Sumnor: and they breathed a +devout wish that a church after their own hearts might be established +at Foxwood, This was the ray of light that flashed upon Miss Blake. +She started at its brightness. A new church at Foxwood! If the thing +were possible to be accomplished, _she_ would accomplish it. The Rev. +Guy Cattacomb, what with prejudiced bishops and old-world clergymen, +did not appear to be appreciated according to his merits, and had not +yet found any active field for his views and services. Miss Blake was +in occasional correspondence with him, and knew this. From being a +kind of dead-and-alive creature under the benighting torpidity of +Foxwood, Miss Blake leaped at once into an energetic woman. An object +was given her: and she wrote a long letter to Mr. Cattacomb telling +him what it was. This morning his answer had been delivered to her. + +She chirped to the birds as she sat at breakfast: she threw them +crumbs out at the window. Mrs. Cleeve was quitting Foxwood that day, +but hoped to be down again soon after Karl and her daughter reached +it. + +"You are sure, Theresa, you do not mind being left alone here?" cried +Mrs. Cleeve, eating her poached egg. + +But Theresa, buried in her own active schemes, and in the letter she +had just had from Mr. Cattacomb--though she did not mention aloud the +name of the writer--neither heard nor answered. Mrs. Cleeve put the +question again. + +"Mind being left here? Oh dear no, I shall like it. I hated the place +the first few days, but I am quite reconciled to it now." + +"And you know exactly what there is to do for the arrival of Sir Karl +and Lucy, Theresa?" + +"Why of course I do, Mrs. Cleeve. There's Hewitt, too: he is a host in +himself." + +Breakfast over, Miss Blake, as was customary, went out. Having no +daily service to take up her time, she hardly knew how to employ it. +Mr. Cattacomb's letter had told her that he should be most happy to +come to officiate at Foxwood if a church could be provided for him: +the difficulty presenting itself to Miss Blake's mind was--that there +was no church to provide. As Miss Blake had observed to Jane St. Henry +only yesterday, she knew they might just as well ask the Dean of +Westminster for his abbey, as old Sumnor for his church, or the +minister for his Dissenting chapel opposite the horse-pond. + +Revolving these slight drawbacks in her brain, Miss Blake turned to +the right on leaving the gates. Generally speaking she had gone the +other way, towards the village. This road to the right was more +solitary. On one side of it were the iron palisades and the grove of +trees that shut in Foxwood; on the other it was bounded by a tall +hedge that had more trees behind it. A little farther on, this tall +hedge had a gate in the middle, high and strong, its bars of iron so +closely constructed that it would not have been well possible for +ill-intentioned tramps to mount it. The gate stood back a little, the +road winding in just there, and was much shut in by trees outside as +well as in. Opposite the gate, over the road, stood a pretty red-brick +cottage villa, with green venetian shutters, creeping clematis around +its parlour windows, and the rustic porch between them. It was called +Clematis Cottage, and may be said to have joined the confines of +Foxwood Court, there being only a narrow side-lane between, which led +to the Court's stables and back premises. Miss Blake had before +noticed the cottage and noticed the gate: she had wondered in her +ever-active curiosity who occupied the one; she had wondered whether +any dwelling was enclosed within the other. This morning as she +passed, a boy stood watching the gate, his hands in his pockets and +whistling to a small dog which had contrived to get its one paw into +the gate and seemed to be in a difficulty as to getting it back again. +Miss Blake, after taking a good look at Clematis Cottage, crossed the +road; and the boy, in rustic politeness, turned his head and touched +his shabby cap. + +"Where does this gate lead to?" she asked. "To any house?" + +"Yes, 'um," replied the boy, whose name, as he informed Miss Blake in +reply to her question, was Tom Pepp. "It's the Maze." + +"The Maze," she repeated, thinking the name had an odd sound. "Do you +mean that it is a house, boy?--a dwelling place?" + +"It be that, 'um, sure enough. Old Mr. Throcton used to live in't +Folks said he was crazy." + +"Why is it called the Maze!" + +"It _is_ a maze," said the boy, patting his dog, which had at length +regained its liberty. "See that there path, 'um"--pointing to the one +close within the gate--"and see them there trees ayont it?" + +Miss Blake looked through the interstices of the gate at the trees +beyond the path. They extended on all sides farther than she could +see. Thick, clustering trees, and shrubs full of leafy verdure, with +what looked like innumerable paths amidst them. + +"That's the maze," said the boy, "and the place is called after it. +Once get among them there trees, 'um, and you'd never get out again +without the clue. The house is in the middle on't; a space cleared +out, with a goodish big garden and grass-plat. I've been in three or +four times when old Mr. Throcton lived there." + +"Did you get in through the maze?" asked Miss Blake. + +"Yes, 'um; there ain't no other way. 'Twere always along of mother; +she knowed the housekeeper. The man servant he'd take us through the +trees all roundabout and bring us out again." + +"Where does this path lead to?" was the next question, speaking of the +one inside between the labyrinth and the gate. + +"He goes round and round and round again," was the lucid answer. "I've +heard say that a door in it leads right to the house, 'um, but nobody +can find the door save them that know it." + +"What an extraordinary place!" exclaimed Miss Blake, much impressed +with the narration. "One would think smugglers lived there--or people +of that kind." + +The boy's eyes--and intelligent eyes they were--went up to Miss +Blake's. He did not particularly understand what a smuggler might be, +but felt sure it could not apply to Mr. Throcton. + +"Mr. Throcton was a rich gentleman that had always lived here," he +said. "There warn't nothing wrong with him--only a bit crazy. For +years afore he died, 'um, he'd never see nobody; and the house, mother +said, were kept just like a prison." + +Miss Blake, very curious, looked at the lock and tried to shake the +gate. She might as well have tried to shake the air. + +"Who lives in it now, Tom Pepp?" + +"A young lady, 'um." + +"A young lady?" echoed Miss Blake. "Who else?" + +"Not nobody else," said the boy. + +"Why, you don't mean to say a young lady lives alone there?" + +"She do, 'um. She and a old servant or two." + +"Is she married or single?" + +Tom Pepp could not answer the last question. Supposed, now he came to +think of it, she must be single, as no husband was there. He did not +know her name. + +"What is she like?" asked Miss Blake. + +"I've never see'd her," said Tom Pepp. "I've never see'd her come out, +and never see'd nobody go in but the butcher's boy. He don't go in, +neither: he rings at the gate and waits there till they come to him. A +woman in a poke bonnet comes out and does the other errands." + +"Well, it must be a very lively place for a young lady!" mentally +observed Miss Blake with sarcasm. "She must want to hide herself from +the world." + +"Mother see'd her at church once with her veil up. She'd never see'd +nothing like her so pretty at Foxwood." + +Turning to pursue her walk, Tom Pepp, who worked for Farmer Truefit, +and who was in fact playing truant for half an hour and thought it +might be policy not to play it any longer, turned also, the farm lying +in that direction. At that moment, Miss Blake, happening to cast her +eyes across the road, saw the head and shoulders of a gentleman +stretched out of one of the sash windows of Clematis Cottage, +evidently regarding her attentively. + +"Who is that gentleman, Tom Pepp?" + +"Him! Well now, what did I hear his name was again!" returned the lad, +considering. "Smith. That's it. It's Mr. Smith, 'um. He be a stranger +to the place, and come here just afore Mrs. Andinnian died. It's said +he was some friend of her'n." + +"Rather a curious person, that Mrs. Andinnian, was she not!" remarked +Miss Blake, invited to gossip by the intelligence of the boy. + +"I never seed her," was the reiteration. "I've never yet seed the new +master of Foxwood, Sir Karl Andinnian. It's said Sir Karl is coming +home himself soon," added the boy; "him and his lady. Hope he'll be as +good for the place as Sir Joseph was." + +They passed on; the opposite gentleman's eyes following Miss Blake: of +which she was quite conscious. Soon they came to the road on the left +hand that led direct to the village. Miss Blake glanced down it, but +continued her walk straight onwards, as if she had a mind to go on to +the railway station. Casting her eyes this way and that, she was +attracted by a pile of ruins on the other side the road, with what +looked like a kind of modern room amidst them. + +"Why, what's that?" she cried to Tom Pepp, standing still to gaze. + +"Oh, them be the ruins, 'um," answered Tom Pepp. "It had used to be +the chapel belonging to the grey friars at the monastery." + +"What friars?--what monastery!" eagerly returned Miss Blake, much +interested. + +The friars were dead years ago, and the monastery had crumbled to +pieces, and Mr. Truefit's farm was built upon where it used to stand, +was the substance of the boy's answer; delivered in terrible fright, +for he caught sight of his master, Mr. Truefit, at a distance. + +The farmhouse lay back beyond the first field. Miss Blake glanced at +it; but all her interest was concentrated in these ruins close at +hand. + +"Surely they have not desecrated sacred ruins by putting up a barn +amidst them!" she exclaimed, as she crossed the road to explore. There +were half-crumbled walls around, part of an ivied stone block that she +thought must have been the basement of a spire, and other fragments. + +"It's not a barn," said Tom Pepp; "never was one. They mended some o' +the old walls a few years ago, and made it into a school-room, and the +children went to school in it--me for one. Not for long, though. Lady +Andinnian and Sir Joseph--it was more her than him--fell out with +Parson Sumnor and the trusts; and my lady said the children should +never come to it again. After that, the trusts built 'em a school-room +in the village; and 'twas said Sir Joseph sent 'em a five-hunderd +pound in a letter and never writ a word to tell where it come from. He +was a good man, he was, when my lady 'ud let him be." + +Miss Blake did not hear half; she was lost in an idea that had taken +possession of her, as she gazed about inside the room. It was narrow, +though rather long, with bare whitewashed walls and rafters above, +the windows on either side being very high up. + +"If this place was the chapel in the old times, it must have been +consecrated!" cried she breathlessly. + +"Very like, 'um," was the lad's answer, in blissful ignorance of her +meaning. "Them grey friars used to eat their meals in it, I've heard +tell, and hold jollifications." + +Preoccupied, the sinful insinuation escaped Miss Blake. The +conviction, that this consecrated place would be the very thing needed +for Mr. Cattacomb's church, was working in her brain. Tom Pepp was +ensconced in a dark corner, his dog in his arms, devoutly hoping his +master would not come that way until he had made his escape. The ruins +belonged to Farmer Truefit, the boy said. The fact being, that they +stood on the land the farmer rented; which land was part of the +Andinnian estate. + +"Has nothing been done with the room since it was used for the +school!" asked Miss Blake. + +"Nothing," was the boy's reply. It was kept locked up until Lady +Andinnian's death: since then, nobody, so far as he knew, had taken +notice of it. + +"What a beautiful little chapel it will make!" thought Miss Blake. +"And absolutely there's a little place that will do for a vestry! I'll +lose no time." + +She went off straight to an interview with Mr. Truefit; which was +held in the middle of a turnip-field. The farmer, a civil man, stout +and sturdy, upon hearing that she was a relative of his new landlord's +wife, the young Lady Andinnian, and was staying at Foxwood Court, took +off his hat and gave her leave to do what she liked to the room and to +make it into a place of worship if she pleased; his idea being that it +was to be a kind of Methodist chapel, or a mission-room. + +This sublime idea expanding within her mind, Miss Blake walked +hurriedly back to Foxwood--for Mrs. Cleeve was to depart at midday. In +passing the Maze, the interest as to what she had heard induced her to +go up to the gate again, and peer in. Turning away after a good long +look, she nearly ran against a rather tall gentleman, who was slowly +sauntering amid the trees outside the gate. A gentleman in green +spectacles, with a somewhat handsome face and black whiskers--the same +face and whiskers, Miss Blake thought, that had watched her from the +opposite window. He wore grey clothes, had one black glove on and his +arm in a sling. + +Mr. Smith took off his hat and apologised. Miss Blake apologised. +Between them they fell into conversation. She found him a very +talkative, pleasant man. + +"Curious place, the Maze?" he echoed in answer to a remark of Miss +Blake's. "Well, yes, I suppose it may be called so, as mazes are not +very common." + +"I have been told a young lady lives in it alone." + +"I believe she does. In fact, I know it, for I have seen her, and +spoken with her." + +"Oh, have you!" cried Miss Blake, more curious than ever. + +"When I went to receive the premium for Sir Karl Andinnian--due on +taking the house," quietly explained Mr. Smith. + +"And who is she?" + +"She is a Mrs. Grey." + +"Oh--a married woman." + +"Certainly. A single lady, young as she is, would scarcely be living +entirely alone." + +"But where is her husband?" + +"Travelling, I believe. I understood her to say so." + +"She is quite young then?" + +"Quite." + +"Is she good-looking?" continued Miss Blake. + +"I have rarely seen anyone so pretty." + +"Indeed! What a strange thing that she should be hiding herself in +this retired place!" + +"Do you think so? It seems to me to be just the spot a young lady +might select, if obliged to live apart for a time from her husband." + +"Of course, there's something in that," conceded Miss Blake. "Does she +visit at all in the neighbourhood?" + +"I think not. I am sure not. If she did I should see her go in and +out. She takes a walk occasionally, and sometimes goes to church on +Sundays. But she mostly keeps in her shell, guarded by her two old +domestics." + +In talking, they had crossed the road, and now halted again at the +little gate of Clematis Cottage. Miss Blake asked if he knew anything +about the ruins she had noticed further up: and Mr. Smith (who had +introduced himself to her by name in a light, gentlemanly manner) said +he did not, but he had a book of the locality indoors which he would +refer to, if she would do him the honour of stepping into his little +drawing-room. + +Rather fascinated by his courteous attentions, Miss Blake did so: and +thought what a bright-looking, pretty drawing-room it was. The +gentleman took off his green glasses (casually mentioning that he wore +them out of doors as a protection against the sun, for his eyes were +not strong) and searched for the guidebook. The book, however, proved +to be chiefly a book of roads, and said very little more of the +monastery and the ruins than Miss Blake had heard from Tom Pepp. + +"You have hurt your arm," she at length ventured to observe, as he +slowly drew it once or twice out of the sling, and seemed to use it +with trouble. "Any accident?" + +"An accident of long standing, madam. But the wrist continues weak, +and always will continue so, next door to useless; and I wear the +sling for protection." + +Miss Blake took her departure; the gentleman escorting her to the +garden gate with much ceremony. In fact, it almost seemed as though he +wished to make a favourable impression on her. + +"He is a gallant man," was Miss Blake's mental comment--"and a +well-informed and pleasant one. I wonder who he is?" + +But her thoughts, veering round to many other matters, at length +settled themselves upon the Maze and its young lady inmate. They quite +took hold of her mind and held possession of it, even to the partial +exclusion of Mr. Cattacomb and the promising ruins. + +In later days, Miss Blake said this must have been nothing less than +instinct. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +Taking an Evening Stroll. + + +Miss Blake carried her point. In a very short space of time the little +way-side room in the ruins--call it chapel, school-room, barn, what +you will--was converted into a church and styled "St. Jerome." Setting +to work at once with a will, Miss Blake had left not a stone unturned +to accomplish her purpose. She pressed several of the young ladies in +the village into the service. Nothing loth, they. Having heard of the +divers merits of the Reverend Guy Cattacomb, they could but be +desirous so shining a light should be secured amidst them. Miss Blake +herself brought all her rare energy, her unflagging perseverance to +the task. When she took a cause to heart, no woman was so indomitable +as she. As may readily be supposed, a good deal had to be done to the +room before it could be made what was wanted; but contrivance worked +wonders. All the money Miss Blake could spare she freely applied: it +was not sufficient, and she wrote to sundry friends, begging +contributions. She next went, with Miss St. Henry and Miss Moore, to +some of the houses in the vicinity, to every one where it might be +safe to go, asking for aid. This personal canvass was not always +successful. Some professed not to understand why a second church was +required, and gave shillings instead of pounds. One old lady, however, +had her generous instincts so worked upon by the eloquence of Miss +Blake (as much as she could hear of it, for she was very deaf, and her +companion declared afterwards that she believed all the while she was +giving to a new industrial school possessing a resident chaplain) that +she handed over a cheque for fifty guineas. Miss Blake could not +believe her eyes when she saw it: and she assured the old lady that +every blessing of heaven would be showered down on her in return. Miss +Blake's personal friends also contributed well--and the matter was +accomplished. Not only was the chapel itself set up, but the stipend +of Mr. Cattacomb assured for the first few months. To do Miss Blake +justice, she wished all things to be religiously right, and she never +entertained a doubt that the place had once been duly consecrated. Her +whole heart was in the work--always excepting a slight small corner of +it that was still filled with her wrongs and Karl Andinnian. + +The early afternoon sun shone down on the bright flowers, the well +kept lawns of Foxwood Court, as Miss Blake stepped out of one of its +windows, her walking costume perfect. She was always well dressed: but +to-day her toilet was more elaborate than usual. Standing for a moment +to look round at the beautiful place, at its complete order, there +rose up in her heart one wild, angry thought--"But for Lucy, this +would have been my own." A very mistaken assumption on Miss Blake's +part, but who was to convince her of that? Banishing the thought +resolutely, she walked along at a brisk pace, as if running a race +with time. It was a great day this. Two events were coming off in it +that stirred Miss Blake to the core. The Reverend Mr. Cattacomb was +expected by the four o'clock train; and Sir Karl and Lady Andinnian +would arrive at home for dinner. + +Miss Blake took the way to St. Jerome's Church, a very choice bouquet +of hothouse flowers in her hand. Glancing at the gate of the Maze--in +regard to which place her interest had not in the least abated--she +bore onwards, and soon joined some groups of ladies, who were +advancing to St. Jerome's by the more direct route from the village. +They had appointed to meet that afternoon and put the finishing +touches to the room ere it should be seen by its pastor--if indeed +any touches remained to be done. A matter such as this could not but +have excited much comment at Foxwood ever since the first day that +Miss Blake took it in hand. Prudent mothers, full of occupation +themselves, warned their daughters against being "led away." The +daughters, whose hands were idle, rushed to the new attraction, +stealthily at first, openly afterwards. They grew to be as energetic +as Miss Blake herself, and were in a fervour of eagerness for the +arrival of Mr. Cattacomb. + +Miss Blake opened the door and allowed the rest to file in. She stayed +looking at something that did not please her--a wheel-barrow full of +earth lodging right against St. Jerome's outside walls. + +"I should not wonder but it's that Tom Pepp who has left it there!" +said Miss Blake severely. "The boy is for ever dodging about here--and +brings other boys in his train. When Mr. Cattacomb----" + +"Good afternoon, madam!" + +Miss Blake turned at the address, and recognized Mr. Smith--his green +spectacles on and his arm in a sling as usual. She had seen him once +or twice since that first meeting, but he had only bowed in passing. + +"May I be permitted to enter?" he asked, waving his hand at the church +door. + +"Oh, certainly," she replied. "Indeed I hope you will become one of +St. Jerome's constant worshippers." So he went in with the crowd of +ladies. + +It certainly looked a sweet little place--as Jane St. Henry remarked +aloud. Candles, flowers, crosses, scrolls--for Miss Blake knew exactly +what would please Mr. Cattacomb. The common whitewashed walls were +nearly hidden: mottoes, a painting or two, and prints lay thickly on +them, all of course of a sacred character. The plain, straw-seated +chairs stood pretty thickly. The other arrangements were as good as +funds, time, and space had allowed. Leading off on one side at the +upper end, was a small vestry; with a sort of corner box in it that +was to serve as a confessional. This vestry--which used to be the +place where The school children put their hats and bonnets--had an +objectionable, modern window in it; before which was hung a blind of +printed calico, securing the vestry's privacy from sun and gazers. + +Mr. Smith might have been a travelled man, but in all his travels he +had seen no place of worship like unto this. He was saying so to +himself as he turned and gazed about through his green glasses. He +took them off and gazed again. + +"Is it not charming, sir?" asked Jane St. Henry. + +"It is rather small," was the response. + +"Oh, that's the worst," said the young lady. "One cannot have +everything at the beginning: there must always be some drawbacks. I +know a church in London, not very much larger than this, where there +are three sweet little private sanctuaries: here we have only one." + +"Sanctuaries?" repeated the agent, evidently not understanding. + +"Confessionals. For confession, you know. We have only one here, and +that is obliged to be in the vestry." + +"Oh, then the place _is_ Roman Catholic!" said Mr. Smith, quietly. "I +thought so." + +He had no intention to offend: it was simply what he inferred: but +Miss St. Henry gave a little shriek and put her two hands to her ears. +Martha Sumnor, a free, showy girl, stepped up. + +"For goodness' sake don't call it that," she said. "Papa would go on +at us, for coming here, worse than he does." + +Mr. Smith bowed and begged pardon. He could not help thinking this was +a daughter of the vicar of the old church, but was not sure: and he +wondered much. + +Even so. The two daughters of Mr. Sumnor had joined St. Jerome's. They +and their mother had long set the vicar at defiance. + +Foxwood was deemed to be a particularly healthy place; in the summer +months, invalids were wont to resort to it from the neighbouring town +of Basham. To meet requirements, lodgings being scarce, a row of +houses had been run up in the heart of the village, near where the old +pound used to stand. They were called Paradise Row. Very pretty to +look at; perhaps not quite so good to wear; stuccoed white fronts +outside, lath and plaster within. If the door of one banged, the whole +of the houses shook; and the ringing of a sitting-room bell was heard +right and left throughout the Row. + +It was in the middle house of these favoured dwellings, No. 5, kept by +Mrs. Jinks, that the ladies had secured apartments for the Reverend +Guy Cattacomb. The bow-windowed front parlour, and the bedroom behind +it. Mrs. Jinks, familiarly called by her neighbours and friends the +Widow Jinks, was beyond the middle age--to speak politely--with a huge +widow's cap nearly as black as the chimney, and a huge black bonnet +generally tilted on the top of it. She had deemed herself very lucky +to find her rooms taken by the ladies for the new clergyman, boasting +to her neighbours that it was of course a "permanent let:" but before +the clergyman arrived, she had grown somewhat out of conceit of the +"let," so worried was she by the young ladies. Parties of them were +always calling, bringing this, that, and the other for the comfort of +their expected pastor, and calling the Widow Jinks to the door a dozen +times in a day. + +Upon leaving St. Jerome's this afternoon, the ladies went in a body to +Paradise Row, intending to await the advent of the Reverend Guy, and +to see that butter and other essentials had been got in for him. Miss +Blake could have dispensed with so large a party--but what was she to +do?--There they were, and stuck to her. All the way to the house they +had been talking of Mr. Smith; wondering who he was and why he had +come to live at Foxwood. Miss St. Henry at length remembered to have +heard he was a friend of the Andinnian family, and had been looking +after things as agent during the absence of Sir Karl. + +"An agent!" exclaimed Miss Blake, drawing herself up. + +"Not a common agent, of course. Does what he does out of friendship. +Here we are." + +"Oh, that's very different," returned Miss Blake, giving a loud, long, +important knock at the Widow Jinks's door. + +"Well, that _is_ a shame of old Jinks!" cried Jemima Moore, in an +undertone to the rest as they got admittance and went into the +parlour. + +For the Widow Jinks had not deemed it necessary to smarten herself up +to receive her new lodger. She answered the door in her ordinary +working costume: rusty black gown, huge cap, and bonnet. Her face and +hands were black too, as if she had been disturbed in cleaning the +pots and kettles. + +"She ought to be told of it. And did you see how sour she looked?" + +Miss Blake put the beautiful bouquet of hothouse flowers--which she +had been guarding carefully--into a vase of water, for it was for Mr. +Cattacomb they had been destined. Some light refreshment in the shape +of wine and cake stood ready on the table; and Mrs. Jinks was examined +as to other preparations. All was in readiness, and the ladies waited +with impatience. + +An impatience that at length subsided into doubt, and that into +disappointment. The clock had gone ticking on; the train must have +been in long ago, and it became evident Mr. Cattacomb had not come. +Miss Blake walked home slightly vexed: and there she found Sir Karl +and Lady Andinnian. + +Things often go cross and contrary. _They_ had not been expected until +later, and Miss Blake had intended to preside--if it may be called +so--at both arrivals. As it happened, she had presided at neither. It +was in crossing the lawn, that Lucy, radiant, blooming, joyous, ran +out to meet her. + +"Good gracious!" cried Miss Blake. + +"Oh, Theresa, how beautiful and happy everything is!" cried the young +wife, pushing back her bonnet to give and take the kiss of greeting. +"Karl has been showing me the rooms. Hewitt said you would not be +long." + +"But when did you come, Lucy?" + +"We came in by the four o'clock train, and took a fly. Here's my +husband. Karl, do you see Theresa?" + +Karl was coming down the terrace steps to greet her. Miss Blake +advanced coldly. + +"How do you do, Sir Karl?" and the hand she put into his seemed limp +and cold. _He_ did not look blooming; but worn, ill, and depressed. + +They entered the hall together, the rays from the coloured windows +shining on them and on the tesselated floor, lighting all up with a +cheerful brightness. The reception-rooms were on either side the hall: +they were what Sir Karl had been showing to his wife. Lucy declared it +was the prettiest house she was ever in. + +"I like this room better than any of the grand ones," spoke Miss +Blake, leading to the little north room she generally sat in, where we +saw her breakfasting with Mrs. Cleeve. + +"It shall be called your room then, Theresa," said Lucy. "Oh yes, it +is very pretty," she continued, looking at the light paper, flecked +with gold, the light furniture with its crimson satin coverings, the +various tasty objects scattered about, and the glass doors, wide open +to the terrace, to the sweet flowers, and to the smooth lawn beyond. + +"I believe this was the late Lady Andinnian's favourite room," +observed Karl. + +"Let me see," said Lucy, stepping outside, "this must look towards the +railway station. Oh yes; and Foxwood lies the other way." + +Opposite to this window some steps descended to the lawn from the +terrace. In very lightness of heart, she ran down and up them. Karl +was talking to Miss Blake. + +"There's a room answering to this in size and position on the other +side the house; as of course you know," he observed. "Sir Joseph, I +hear, made it his business room." + +"Hewitt calls it Sir Karl's room, now," interrupted Miss Blake. "You +smoke in it, don't you, Sir Karl?" + +"I did smoke in it once or twice when I was staying down here during +the time of my mother's illness," he replied. "But I am not a great +smoker. Just one cigar at night: and not always that." + +"Did I see that room, Karl?" asked his wife. + +"No, Lucy. It was hardly worth showing you." + +"Oh, but I shall like it better than all the rest, if it's yours." + +"Come and see it then." + +She put her arm within his, and he looked down on her with a smile as +they went through the house. Miss Blake walked behind with drawn-in +lips. Sir Karl was greatly altered in manner, she thought; all his +life and spirits had left him: and he did not seem in the least glad +to see _her_. + +The room on the other side had grey walls and looked altogether rather +dowdy. Books and maps were on the shelves, a large inkstand stood on +the table, and the chimney-piece was ornamented with a huge Chinese +tobacco-box. + +"Now, Karl, that great arm-chair shall be yours, and this little one +mine," said Lucy. "And you must let me come in when I please--although +I can see it is to be your business room, just as it was Sir +Joseph's." + +"As often as you will, my darling." + +He threw open the glass doors as he spoke, stepped across the terrace, +and down the steps to the lawn--for this room answered in every +respect to the other. This room faced the south; the front of the +house the west, and Miss Blake's favourite room the north. The sun +came slantwise across the flower beds. Sir Karl plucked one of the +sweetest roses, and brought it to his wife. Lucy said nothing as she +took it; but Miss Blake, observant Miss Blake, saw the lingering touch +of their hands; the loving glance from Lucy's eyes to his. + +"Shall I show you your rooms upstairs, Lady Andinnian? If you have not +been up." + +"Thank you, I'll take Lucy myself," said Karl. "No, we have not been +up." + +The rooms they were to occupy lay in front, towards the northern end +of the corridor. The bedroom was large and beautifully fitted up. Just +now Aglaé had it in confusion, unpacking. Two dressing-rooms opened +from it. Sir Karl's on the right--the last room at that end; Lucy's on +the left: and beyond Lucy's was another bedroom. These four rooms all +communicated with each other: when their doors stood open you might +see straight through all of them: each one could also be entered from +the corridor. + +"But what do we want with this second bedroom?" asked Lucy, as she +stood in it with her husband. + +A full minute elapsed before he answered her, for it was the room +where that strange communication, which was o'ershadowing his life, +had been made to him by his mother. The remembrance of the turbulent +night and its startling disclosures was very present with him, and he +turned to the window, and put his head out, as though gasping for a +breath of air. + +"They have not made any change, you see, Lucy: I did not give orders: +It was my mother's chamber during her short span of residence here. +The next, that little dressing-room of yours, she made her upstairs +sitting-room. Perhaps you would like to have this made into a +sitting-room for yourself." + +"Nay, Karl, if I want to sit upstairs, there's my dressing-room. We +will let this be as it is. Is that Foxwood?" she added, pointing to +the roofs of houses and a church-spire in the distance. + +"Yes, that's Foxwood." + +"And what are all those trees over the way?" turning her finger rather +towards the right: in fact to the Maze. "There are some chimneys +amidst them. Is it a house?" + +"Yes." + +"A gentleman's house? It must be pleasant to have neighbours so near, +if they are nice people. Is it occupied, Karl!" + +"I--I fancy so. The truth is, Lucy,"--breaking into rather a forced +laugh--"that I am as yet almost as much a a stranger here as yourself. +Shall I call Aglaé? I'm sure you must want to get your bonnet off." + +"Aglaé's there, you know; I am going to her. But first of +all"--clasping her arms fondly round him and lifting her sweet face to +his--"let me thank you for this beautiful home. Oh, Karl! how happy we +shall be in it." + +"God willing!" he answered in a beseeching tone of exquisite pain. +And, as he held her to him in the moment's tenderness, his chest +heaved with a strange emotion. + +"How he loves me," thought Lucy, passing to her own rooms. For she put +the emotion down to that. "I wonder if there ever was such love before +in the world as his and mine? Aglaé, I must wear white to-day." + +She went down to dinner in white muslin and white ribbons, with a lily +in her hair, a very bride to look at. Poor girl! it was a gala-day +with her, this coming home, almost like her wedding day. Poor wife! + +The only one to talk much at dinner was Lucy. Miss Blake was not in +one of her amiable moods: Sir Karl and Lucy had both dressed for +dinner: she had not, not supposing they would, and that helped to put +her out. In this retired spot, and with her head filled with Mr. +Cattacomb and St. Jerome's, Miss Blake had been almost forgetting that +there existed such a thing as dressing for dinner. Karl was silent and +grave as usual, just like a man preoccupied. His wife had become used +to his air of sadness. She set it down, partly to the cause of the +mysterious communication he had made to her the night before their +marriage, and which had never since been mentioned between them, and +partly to his ill-fated brother's trouble and shocking death. +Therefore Lucy took the sadness as a matter of course, and never would +appear to notice it. + +Miss Blake began to converse at last. She spoke of St. Jerome's: +telling with much exultation all that had been done. But Sir Karl +looked grave. The good sound doctrines and worship of what used to be +called High-Church were his own: but he did not like these new and +extreme movements that caused scandal. + +"You say that this St. Jerome's is on my land, Miss Blake?" + +"On your land, Sir Karl: but in Farmer Truefit's occupation. The +consent lay with him and he gave it." + +"Well, I hope you will have the good sense not to go too far." + +Miss Blake lifted her head, and asked Hewitt for some bread. Lucy's +pretty face had flushed, and she glanced timidly at her husband. +Remembering past days, she had not much faith in Theresa's moderation. + +"When Mrs. Cleeve, knowing Lucy's inexperience and youth, suggested +that I should stay here for some time after her return home, Sir Karl, +if agreeable to you and to her, and I acquiesced, wishing to be useful +to both of you in any way that might be, I had no conception there was +not a church open for daily worship in the place. I must go to daily +worship, Sir Karl. It is as essential to me as my bread and cheese." + +"I'm sure I can say nothing against daily worship--to those who have +the time for it," rejoined Karl. "It is not _that_ I fear, Miss Blake; +think how beautiful the daily service was in Winchester Cathedral!" + +"Oh, of course; yes," replied Miss Blake, in a slighting tone; "the +cathedral service was very well as far as it went. But you need not +fear, Sir Karl." + +"Thank you," he replied; "I am glad to hear you say so." And the +subject dropped. + +The two ladies were alone for a few minutes after dinner in the North +room. Lucy was standing at the open window. + +"Of course you know all about the place by this time, Theresa," she +suddenly said. "There's a house over there amidst those trees: who +lives in it?" + +"Some lady, I believe, who chooses to keep herself very retired," +replied Miss Blake. + +"Oh, I asked Karl, but he could not tell me: he says he is nearly as +much a stranger here as I am. Theresa! I do think that's a +nightingale! Listen." + +"Yes we have nightingales here," said Miss Blake, indifferently. + +Lucy crossed the lawn, and paced before the clusters of trees. The +bird was just beginning its sweet notes. Karl came out, drew her hand +within his arm, and walked with her until Miss Blake called out that +the tea was waiting. + +But Lucy yet was not very strong. She began to feel tired, and a +sudden headache came on. When tea was over Karl said she must go to +bed. + +"I think I will," she answered, rising. "If you will pardon my leaving +you, Theresa. Good night." + +Karl went up with her and stayed a few minutes talking. In coming down +he went straight to his smoking-room and shut the door. + +"Very polite, I'm sure!" thought Miss Blake, resentfully. + +But the next moment she heard him leave it and come towards the +sitting-room. + +"I will wish you good night too, Miss Blake," he said, offering his +hand. "Pray ring for anything you may require; you are more at home, +you know, than we are," he concluded with a slight laugh. + +"Are you going to bed also, Sir Karl?" + +"I? Oh no. I am going into my smoking-room. I have a letter to write." + +Now Miss Blake resented this frightfully. Lucy might go to bed; it was +best for her as she was fatigued; but that Sir Karl should thus +unceremoniously leave her to her own company at nine o'clock, she +could not pardon. As to letter writing, the post had gone out. It was +evident he thought nothing of her, even as a friend; nothing. + +Dropping her forehead upon her hands, she sat there she knew not how +long. When she looked up it was nearly dark. Her thoughts had wandered +to Mr. Cattacomb, and she wondered whether he would be arriving by the +last train. + +Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, Miss Blake went into the garden, +and thence by one of the small private gates into the lonely road. It +was still and solitary. The nightingales were singing now, and she +paced along, lost in thought, past the Maze and onwards. + +She had reached nearly as far as the road to Foxwood, not having met a +soul, when the advance of two or three passengers from the station +told her the train was in. They turned off to the village, walking +rapidly: but neither of them was the expected clergyman. + +"What can have kept him?" she murmured, as she retraced her steps. + +There was no moon, but the summer sky was light: not much of it, +however, penetrated to the sides of the road through the overshadowing +trees. Miss Blake had nearly gained the Maze when she heard the +approach of footsteps. Not caring to be seen out so late alone, she +drew back between the hedge and the clump of trees at the gate, and +waited. + +To her vexation, peeping forth from her place of shelter, she +recognised Sir Karl Andinnian. He was stealing along under shadow of +the hedge too--_stealing_ along, as it seemed to Miss Blake, covertly +and quietly. When he reached the gate he looked up the road and down +the road, apparently to make sure that no one was within sight or +hearing: then he took a small key from his pocket, unlocked the strong +gate with it, entered, locked it after him again, and disappeared +within the trees of the veritable maze. + +To say that Miss Blake was struck with amazement would be saying +little. What could it mean? What could Sir Karl want there? He had +told his wife he knew not who lived in it. And yet he carried a +private key to the place, and covertly stole into it on this the first +night of his return! The queer ideas that floated through Miss Blake's +mind, rapidly chasing each other, three parts bewildered her. They +culminated in one emphatically spoken sentence. + +"I should like to get inside too!" + +Softly making her way across the road to enter the Court's grounds by +the nearest gate, she chanced to lift her eyes to Clematis Cottage. +The venetian shutters were closed. But, peering through one of them +from the dark room, was a face that she was sure was Mr. Smith's. It +looked just as though he had been watching Sir Karl Andinnian. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +Miss Blake gets in. + + +Still no signs of the Rev. Guy Cattacomb. The morning following the +night told of in the last chapter rose bright and sunny. Miss Blake +rose with it, her energetic mind full of thought. + +"I wonder how I am to begin to keep house?" said Lucy with a laugh, +when she got up from the breakfast table, her cheeks as bright as the +pink summer muslin she wore. "Do I go into the kitchen, Theresa?" + +"You go with the cook to the larder," replied Theresa, gravely. "See +what provisions remain in it from yesterday, and give your orders +accordingly. Shall I go with you this morning, Lady Andinnian?" + +"I wish you would! I wish you'd put me in the way of it. In Paris, +when I was going to be married, mamma regretted she had not shown me +more of housekeeping at home." + +"You have, I believe, a careful and honest cook: and that is a great +thing for an inexperienced mistress," said Miss Blake. + +"As if cooks were ever dishonest in the country!" cried Sir Karl, +laughing--and it was the first laugh Miss Blake had heard from his +lips. "You must go to your grand London servants for that--making +their perquisites out of everything, and feeding their friends and the +policeman!" + +"And then, Karl, when I come back, you will take me about everywhere, +won't you?" whispered Lucy, leaning fondly over his shoulder as Miss +Blake went on. "I want to see all about the grounds." + +He nodded and let his cheek rest for a moment against hers. "Go and +order your roast beef. And--Lucy!" + +His manner had changed to seriousness. He turned in his chair to face +her, his brow flushing as he took her hands. + +"You will not be extravagant, Lucy--" his voice sinking to a whisper +lower than hers. "When I told you of that--that trouble, which had +fallen upon me and might fall deeper, I said that it would cost me a +large portion of my income. You remember?" + +"Oh Karl! do you think I could forget? We will live as quietly and +simply as you please. It is all the same to me." + +"Thank you, my dear wife." + +Theresa stood at the open hall door, looking from it while she waited. +"I was thinking," she said, when Lady Andinnian's step was heard, +"that it really might be cheaper in the end if you took a regular +housekeeper, Lucy, as you are so inexperienced. It would save you a +great deal of trouble." + +"The trouble's nothing, Theresa; and I should like to learn. I would +not think of a housekeeper. I should be afraid of her." + +"Oh, very well. As you please, of course. But when you get your whole +staff of servants, the house full of them, the controlling of the +supplies for so many will very much embarrass you." + +"But we don't mean to have our house full of servants, Theresa. We do +not care to set up on a grand scale, either of us. Just about as papa +and mamma live, will be enough for us indoors." + +"Nonsense," said Miss Blake. + +"We must have a coachman--Karl thinks he shall take on Sir Joseph's; +the man has asked to come--and, I suppose, one footman to help Hewitt, +and a groom. That's all. I think we have enough maids now." + +"You should consider that Sir Karl's income is a large one, Lucy," +spoke Miss Blake in a tone of lofty reproach. "It is absurd to take +your papa's scale of living as a guide for yours." + +"But Sir Karl does not mean to spend his income: he has a reason for +saving it." + +"Oh that's another thing," said Miss Blake. "What is his reason?" + +The young Lady Andinnian could have punished her rebellious tongue. +She had spoken the hasty words "he has a reason for saving it" in the +heat of argument, without thought. What right, either as a wife or a +prudent woman, had she to allow allusion to it to escape her lips? Her +rejoinder was given slowly and calmly. + +"My husband is quite right not to begin by spending all his income, +Theresa. We should both of us think it needless extravagance. Is this +the kitchen? Let us go in here first. I must get acquainted with all +my places and people." + +The business transacted, Lucy went out with Karl. Theresa watched them +on to the lawn and thence round the house, Lucy in her broad-brimmed +straw hat, and her arm within her husband's. Miss Blake then dressed +herself and walked rapidly to St. Jerome's. Some faint hope animated +her that Mr. Cattacomb might have arrived, and be already inaugurating +the morning service. But no. St. Jerome's was closely shut, and no Mr. +Cattacomb was there. + +She retraced her steps, lingering to rob the hedges of a wild +honeysuckle or a dog-rose. This non-arrival of Mr. Cattacomb began to +trouble her, and she could not imagine why, if he were prevented +coming, he had not written to say so. Reaching the Maze, Miss Blake +woke up from these thoughts with quite a start of surprise: for the +gate was open and a woman servant stood there, holding colloquy with +the butcher's boy on horseback: a young man in a blue frock, no hat, +and a basket on his arm. A middle-aged and very respectable looking +servant, but somewhat old-fashioned in her appearance: a spare figure +straight up and down, in a black-and-white cotton gown and white +muslin cap tied with black ribbon strings. In her hand was a dish with +some meat on it, which she had just received from the basket, and she +appeared to be reproaching the boy on the score of the last joint's +toughness. + +"This hot weather one can't keep nothing properly," said the boy, in +apology. "I was to ask for the book, please, ma'am." + +"The book!" returned the woman. "Why I meant to have brought it out. +Wait there, and I'll get it." + +The boy, having perhaps the spirit of restlessness upon him, backed +his steed, and turned him round and round in the road like a horse in +a mill. Miss Blake saw her opportunity and slipped in unseen. Gliding +along the path, she concealed herself behind a huge tree-trunk near +the hedge, until the servant should have come and gone again. Miss +Blake soon caught sight of her skirts amid the trees of the maze. + +"Here's the book," said she to the boy. "Ask your master to make it up +for the month, and I'll pay." And shutting and locking the gate, she +retreated into the maze again and disappeared. + +When people do covert things in a hurry, they can't expect to have all +their senses about them, and Miss Blake had probably forgotten that +she should be locked in. However--here she was in the position, and +must make the best of it. + +First of all, she went round the path, intending to see where it led +to. It was fenced in by the garden wall, the high hedge and shrubs on +one side, by the trees of the maze on the other. Suddenly she came to +what looked like a low vaulted passage built in the maze, which +probably communicated with the house: but she could not tell. Its door +was fast, and Miss Blake could see nothing. + +Pursuing her way along the walk, it brought her round to the entrance +gate again, and she remembered Tom Pepp's words about the path going +round and round and leading to nowhere. Miss Blake was not one to be +daunted. She had come in to look about her, and she meant to do it. +She plunged into the maze. + +Again had she cause to recall Master Pepp's account,--"Once get into +that there maze and you'd never get out again without the clue." Miss +Blake began to fear there was only too much truth in it. For a full +hour in reality, and it seemed to her like two hours, did she wander +about and wander again. She was in the maze and could not get out of +it. + +She stood against the back of a tree, her face turning hot and cold. +It took a great deal to excite that young woman's pulses: but she did +not like the position in which she had placed herself. + +She must try again. Forward thither, backward hither, round and about, +in and out. No; no escape; no clue; no opening: nothing but the same +interminable trees and the narrow paths so exactly like one another. + +"What will become of me?" gasped Miss Blake. + +At that moment a voice very near rose upon her ear--the voice of the +servant she had seen. "Yes, ma'am, I'll do it after dinner." + +Unconsciously Miss Blake had wandered to the confines of the maze that +were close on the house. A few steps further and she could peep out of +her imprisonment. + +A small, low, pretty-gabled house of red brick. A sitting-room window, +large and thrown open, faced Miss Blake; the porch entrance, of which +she could get a slanting glimpse, fronted a grass-plat, surrounded by +most beautiful flower-beds, with a greenhouse at the end. It was a +snug, compact spot, the whole shut in by a high laurel hedge. On the +grass stood the woman servant, spreading some bits of linen to dry: +Miss Blake made them out to be cambric handkerchiefs: her mistress had +probably been speaking to her from the porch, and the answer was what +she heard. An old man, with either a slight hump on his back or a +dreadful stoop, was bending over a distant flower-bed. He wore a wide, +yellow straw hat, and a smock-frock similar to that of the butcher's +boy, only the latter's was blue and the old man's white. His hair was +grey and he appeared to be toothless: but in his prime he must have +been tall and powerful. Miss Blake made her comments. + +"What an extraordinary solitude for a young person to live in! But +what choice flowers those look to be! That toothless old man must be +the gardener! he looks too aged and infirm for his work. _Why_ +does she live here? There must be more in it than meets the eye. +Perhaps----" + +The soliloquy was arrested. The door of the sitting-room opened, and a +young lady entered. Crossing to the window, she stood looking at +something on the table underneath, in full view of Miss Blake. A fair +girl, with a delicate face, soft damask cheeks, blue eyes, and hair +that gleamed like threads of light gold. + +"Good gracious! how lovely she is!" was Miss Blake's involuntary +thought. Could this young girl be Mrs. Grey? + +The young lady left the window again. The next minute the keys of a +piano were touched. A prelude was played softly, and then there rose a +verse of those lines in the "Vicar of Wakefield" that you all know so +well, the voice of the singer exceedingly melodious and simple: + + + "When lovely woman stoops to folly, + And finds too late that men betray----" + + +Miss Blake had never in her life cared for the song, but it bore now a +singular charm. Every word was distinct, and she listened to the end. +A curious speculation crossed her. + +Was this young girl singing the lines in character? "Heaven help her +then!" cried Miss Blake--for she was not all hardness. + +But how was she, herself, to get away? She might remain there unsought +for ever. There was nothing for it but boldly showing herself. And, as +the servant was then coming back across the lawn with some herbs which +she had apparently been to gather, Miss Blake wound out of the maze, +and presented herself before the woman's astonished eyes. + +She made the best excuse she could. Had wandered inside the gate, +attracted by the mass of beautiful trees, and lost herself amidst +them. After a pause of wondering consideration, the servant understood +how it must have been--that she had got in during her temporary +absence from the gate when she went to fetch the butcher's book; and +she knew what a long while she must have been there. + +"I'll let you out," she said. "It's a pity you came in." + +Very rapidly the woman walked on through the maze, Miss Blake +following her. There were turnings and twistings, amid which the +latter strove to catch some clue to the route. In vain. One turning, +one path seemed just like another. + +"Does your mistress live quite alone here?" she asked of the servant. + +"Yes, ma'am," was the reply, more civilly spoken--for, that the +servant had been at first much put out by the occurrence, her manner +testified. "She's all alone, except for me and my old man." + +"Your old man?" exclaimed Miss Blake questioningly. + +"My husband," explained the woman, perceiving she was not understood. +"He's the gardener." + +"Oh, I saw him," said Miss Blake. "But he looks quite too old and +infirm to do much." + +"He's not as old as he looks--and he has a good deal of work in him +still. Of course when a man gets rheumatics, he can't be as active as +before." + +"How very dull your mistress must be!" + +"Not at all, ma'am. She has her birds, and flowers, and music, and +work. And the garden she's very fond of: she'll spend hours in the +greenhouse over the plants." + +"Mrs. Grey, I think I have heard her called." + +"Yes, Mrs. Grey." + +"Well now--where's her husband?" + +"She's not got a hus-- At least,--her husband's not here." + +The first part of the answer was begun in a fierce, resentful tone: +but at the break the woman seemed to recollect herself, and calmed +down. Miss Blake was silently observant, pondering all in her +inquisitive mind. + +"Mr. Grey is travelling abroad just now," continued the woman. "Here +we are." + +Yes, there they were escaped from the maze, the iron gate before them. +The woman took a key from her pocket and unlocked it--just as Sir Karl +had taken a key from his pocket the previous night. Miss Blake saw now +what a small key it was, to undo so large a gate. + +"Good morning," she said. "Thank you very much. It was exceedingly +thoughtless of me to stroll in." + +"Good day to you, ma'am." + +Very busy was Miss Blake's brain as she went home. The Maze puzzled +her. That this young and pretty woman should be living alone in that +perfect seclusion with only two servants to take care of her, one of +them at least old and decrepid, was the very oddest thing she had ever +met with. Miss Blake knew the world tolerably well; and, so far as her +experience went, a man whose wife was so young and so lovely as this +wife, would wish to take her travelling with him. Altogether, it +seemed very singular: and more singular still seemed the stealthy and +familiar entrance, that she had witnessed, of Sir Karl Andinnian. + +Meanwhile, during this bold escapade of Miss Blake's, Lady Andinnian +had gone out on a very different expedition. It could not be said that +Lucy had no acquaintance whatever at Foxwood before she came to it. +She knew the vicar's eldest daughter, Margaret, who had occasionally +stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Blake at Winchester: the two clergymen were +acquainted, having been at college together. On this morning Lucy had +started to see Miss Sumnor; walking alone, for Karl was busy. The +church, a very pretty one, with a tapering spire, stood in its +churchyard, just through the village. The vicarage joined it: a nice +house, with a verandah running along the front; a good garden and some +glebe land. + +On a couch in a shaded room, lay a lady of some thirty, or more, years +of age; her face thin, with upright lines between the eyebrows, +telling of long-standing trouble or pain, perhaps of both; her hands +busy with some needle-work. Lady Andinnian, who had not given her +name, but simply asked to see Miss Sumnor, was shown in. She did not +recognize her at the first moment. + +"Margaret! It cannot be you." + +Margaret Sumnor smiled her sweet, patient smile, and held Lady +Andinnian's hand in hers. "Yes it is, Lucy--if I may presume still to +call you so. You find me changed. Worn and aged." + +"It is true," candidly avowed Lucy, in the shock to her feelings. "You +look altogether different. And yet, it is not three years since we +parted. Mrs. Blake used to tell me you were ill, and had to lie down a +great deal." + +"I lie here always, Lucy. Getting off only at night to go to my bed in +the next room. Now and then, if I am particularly well, they draw me +across the garden to church in a hand-chair: but that is very seldom. +Sit down. Here, close to me." + +"And what is the matter with you?" + +"It has to do with the spine, my dear. A bright young girl like you +need not be troubled with the complication of particulars. The worst +of it is, Lucy, that I shall be as I am for life." + +"Oh Margaret!" + +Miss Sumnor raised her work again and set a few stitches, as if +determined not to give way to any kind of emotion. Lady Andinnian's +face wore quite a frightened look. + +"_Surely_ not for always, Margaret!" + +"I believe so. The doctors say so. Papa went to the expense of having +a very clever man down from London; but he only confirmed what Mr. +Moore had feared." + +"Then, Margaret, I think it was a cruel thing to let you know it. Hope +and good spirits go so far to help recovery, no matter what the +illness may be. Did the doctors tell you?" + +"They told my father, not me. I learnt it through--through a sort of +accident, Lucy," added Miss Sumnor: who would not explain that it was +through the carelessness--to call it by a light name--of her +stepmother. "After all, it is best that I should know it. I see it is +now, if I did not at the time." + +"How it must have tried you!" + +"Oh it did; it did. What I felt for months, Lucy, I cannot describe. I +had grown to be so useful to my dear father: he had begun to need me +so very much; to depend upon me for so many things: and to find that I +was suddenly cut off from being of any help to him, to be instead only +a burden!--even now I cannot bear to recall it. It was that that +changed me, Lucy: in a short while I had gone in looks from a young +woman into an aged one." + +"No, no, not that. And you have to bear it always!" + +"The bearing is light now," said Miss Sumnor, looking up with a happy +smile. "One day, Lucy, when I was in a sad mood of distress and inward +repining, papa came in. He saw a little of what I felt; he saw my +tears, for he had come upon me quickly. Down he sat in that very chair +that you are sitting in now. 'Margaret, are you realizing that this +calamity has come upon you from God--that it is His will?' he asked: +and he talked to me as he had never talked before. That night, as I +lay awake thinking, the new light seemed to dawn upon me. 'It is, +it is God's will,' I said; 'why should I repine in misery?' Bit by +bit, Lucy, after that, the light grew greater. I gained--oh such +comfort!--in a few weeks more I seemed to lie right under God's +protection; to be, as it were, always in His sheltering Arms: and my +life is happier now than I can tell you of, in spite of very many and +constant trials." + +"And you manage to amuse yourself, I see," resumed Lucy, breaking the +pause that had ensued. + +"Amuse myself! I can assure you my days are quite busy and useful +ones. I sew--as you perceive, resting my elbows on the board; see, +this is a pillowcase that I am darning. I read, and can even write a +note; I manage the housekeeping; and I have my class of poor children +here, and teach them as before. They are ten times more obedient and +considerate, seeing me as I am, than when I was in health." + +Lucy could readily believe it. "And now tell me, Margaret, what +brought this illness on?" + +"Nothing in particular. It must have been coming on for years, only we +did not suspect it. Do you remember that when at the rectory I never +used to run or walk much, but always wanted to sit still, and dear +Mrs. Blake would call me idle? It was coming on then. But now, Lucy, +let me hear about yourself. I need not ask if you are happy." + +Lucy blushed rosy red: she was only too happy: and gave an account of +her marriage and sojourn abroad, promising to bring her husband some +day soon to see Miss Sumnor. Next, they spoke of the new place--St. +Jerome's, and the invalid's brow wore a look of pain. + +"It has so grieved papa, Lucy. Indeed, there's no want of another +church in the place; even if it were a proper church, there's no one +to attend it: our own is too large for the population. Papa is grieved +at the movement, and at the way it is being done; it is anything but +orthodox. And to think that it should be Theresa Blake who has put it +forward!" + +"The excuse she makes to us is that she wanted a daily service." + +"A year ago papa took to hold daily service, and he had to discontinue +it, for no one attended. Very often there would be only himself and +the clerk." + +"I do not suppose this affair of Theresa's will last," said Lucy, +kindly, as she took her leave, and went home. + +Karl was out at luncheon, but they all three met at dinner: he, Lucy, +and Miss Blake. Lucy told him of her visit to Margaret Sumnor, and +asked him to go there with her on his return from London, whither he +was proceeding on the morrow. Miss Blake had not heard of the +intention before, and inquired of Sir Karl whether he was going for +long. + +"For a couple of days; perhaps three," he answered. "I have several +matters of business to attend to." + +"I think I might as well have gone with you, Karl," said his wife. + +"Not this time, Lucy. You have only just come home from travelling, +you know, and need repose." + +Miss Blake, having previously taken her determination to do it, +mentioned, in a casual, airy kind of way, her adventure of the +morning: not however giving to the intrusion quite its true aspect, +and not saying that she had seen the young lady. She had "strolled +accidentally" into the place called the Maze, she said, seeing the +gate open, and lost herself. A woman servant came to her assistance +and let her out again; but not before she had caught a glimpse of the +interior: the pretty house and lawn and flowers, and the infirm old +gardener. + +To Miss Blake's surprise--or, rather, perhaps not to her surprise--Sir +Karl's pale face turned to a burning red. He made her no answer, but +whisked his head round to the butler, who stood behind him. + +"Hewitt," he cried sharply, "this is not the same hock that we had +yesterday." + +"Yes, Sir Karl, it is. At least I--I believe it is." + +Hewitt took up the bottle on the sideboard and examined it. Miss Blake +thought he looked as confused as his master. "He plays tricks with the +wine," was the mental conclusion she drew. + +Hewitt came round, grave as ever, and filled up the glasses again. +Karl began talking to him, about the wine in the cellar: but Miss +Blake was not going to let her subject drop. + +"Do you know this place that they call the Maze, Sir Karl?" + +"Scarcely." + +"Or its mistress, Mrs. Grey?" + +"I have seen her," shortly replied Karl. + +"Oh, have you! When?" + +"She wrote me a note relative to some repairs that were required, and +I went over." + +"Since you were back this time, do you mean?" + +"Oh no. It was just after my mother's death." + +"Don't you think it very singular that so young a woman should be +living there alone?" + +"I suppose she likes it. The husband is said to be abroad." + +"You have no acquaintance with the people?" persisted Miss Blake. + +"Oh dear no." + +"And going in with a key from his own pocket!" thought Miss Blake, as +she drew in her lips. + +"Foxwood and its inhabitants, as I told Lucy, are tolerably strange to +me," added Sir Karl. "Lucy, you were talking of Margaret Sumnor. What +age is she?" + +He was resolute in turning the conversation from the Maze: as Miss +Blake saw. What was his motive? All kinds of comical ideas were in her +mind, not all of them good ones. + +"I'll watch," she mentally said. "In the interests of religion, to say +nothing of respectability, _I'll watch_." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +Miss Blake on the Watch. + + +"Lucy, you will come with me to the opening service?" + +Lady Andinnian shook her head. "I think not, Theresa." + +"Why, it would be quite a distraction for you," urged Miss Blake, +using the word in the French sense. + +Sir Karl had been in London some three or four days now; and Lucy, all +aweary without him, was longing and looking for his return every hour +of the live-long summer's day. But she was proof against this offered +temptation. + +"I don't think Karl would like me to go to St. Jerome's, Theresa. +Thank you all the same." + +"Do you mean to make Sir Karl your guide and model through life, +Lucy?"--and Lady Andinnian, sincere and simple herself, detected not +the covert sarcasm. + +"I hope I shall never do, or wish to do anything that he would object +to," was her answer, a sweet blush dyeing her cheeks. + +"Well, if you won't appear at church, will you attend the kettledrum +afterwards, Lucy?" + +"The kettledrum?" echoed Lucy. "What kettledrum?" + +"We are going to hold one at Mrs. Jinks's--that is, in Mr. Cattacomb's +rooms--for the purpose of introducing him to some of his friends, and +to organize the parish work." + +Lady Andinnian looked up in surprise. "The parish work? What can you +be talking of, Theresa?" + +"Oh, there will be district visiting, and that. It must all be +arranged and organized." + +"Will it not be interfering with Mr. Sumnor?" Lucy ventured to ask, +after a pause of silence. + +"Not at all," was the answer, given loftily. "Shall I come round this +way and call for you as we return from the service?" + +"Thank you, no, Theresa; I would rather not. I do not think I should +myself much care for the kettledrum." + +"Very well," coolly replied Miss Blake. "As you please, of course, +Lady Andinnian." + +The service at St. Jerome's was at length about to be inaugurated: for +the Reverend Guy Cattacomb had duly appeared after a few days' delay, +for which he satisfactorily accounted. It was to be held in the +afternoon, this afternoon, he having arrived in the morning; and Miss +Blake, while talking to Lady Andinnian, was already dressed for it. +She started forth alone: just as other eager young women, mostly +young, some middle-aged, were starting for it, and flocking into St. +Jerome's. + +Much inward speculation had existed as to what the new parson would be +like; and the ladies looked at him eagerly when he entered from the +vestry to commence the service. They saw a tall young man in a narrow +surplice, with a sheep-skin tippet worn hind before, and a cross at +the back in the opening: spectacles; no hair on his face, and not over +much on his head, a few tufts of it only standing up like young +carrots; eyes very much turned up. Certainly, in regard to personal +beauty, the new pastor could not boast great things; but he made up +for it in zeal, and--if such a thing may be said of a clergyman--in +vanity; for that he was upon remarkably good terms with himself and +his looks, every tone and gesture betrayed. It was rather a novel +service, but a very attractive one. Mr. Cattacomb had a good sonorous +voice--though it was marred by an affected accent and a drawling kind +of delivery that savoured of insincerity and was most objectionably +out of place. Miss Jane St. Henry played the harmonium; the ladies +sang: and their singing, so far as it went, was good, but men's voices +were much wanted. There was a short sermon, very rapidly delivered, +and not to be understood--quite after a new fashion of the day. During +its progress, little Miss Etheridge happened to look round, and saw +Mr. Moore, the surgeon, at the back of the room. + +"If you'll believe me, old Moore's here!" she whispered to Mary St. +Henry. + +Yes, the surgeon was there. He had laughed a little over this curious +new place that was being called a church, and said at home that day +that he should look in and see what its services were to be like. He +was more surprised than pleased. Just as Mr. Smith, the agent, asked, +Is it Roman Catholic or Protestant? so did Mr. Moore mentally ask the +question now. The place was pretty full. Some few people had come over +from Basham to be present. Mr. Moore's eyes went ranging amid the +chairs, scanning the congregation. His daughters were not there. They +are too sensible, thought the doctor: though he did not give them +credit for overmuch sense in general. The fact was, the Misses Moore +had been afraid to come. Hearing their father say he should look in, +they deemed it wise to keep away--and did so, to their own deep +mortification and disappointment. Mr. Moore was an easy-tempered man, +and an indulgent father; but if once in a way he did by chance issue +an edict, they knew it might not be disobeyed--and had he seen them +there with his own eyes, he might have prohibited their going for the +future. So they allowed policy to prevail, and stayed at home. + +What with the opening service, and what with the coming party at Mrs. +Jinks's, Foxwood was that day stirred to its centre. The preparations +for the kettledrum were on an exhaustive scale, the different ladies +having vied with each other in sending in supplies. Butter, cream, +delicate bread and cakes, jam, marmalade, choice fruit, biscuits, and +other things too numerous to mention. Miss Blake had taken a huge +packet of tea, and some beautiful flowers, the latter offering cajoled +out of old Maclean, the head gardener at the Court. + +The walk to St. Jerome's and back, together with the excitement of the +new service, had made them thirsty, and it was universally agreed to +take tea first, though only four o'clock, and proceed to business +afterwards. The table groaned under the weight of good things on it, +and Miss Blake was president-in-chief. The room was too small for the +company, who sat or stood as they could, elbowing each other, and +making much of Mr. Cattacomb. Tongues were going fast, Mr. Cattacomb's +amidst them, and Miss Blake was getting hot with the work of +incessantly filling cups from the tea-pots, when a loud knock, +announcing further visitors, shook the street door and Paradise Row. + +"Who can it be? I'm sure we have no room for more!" + +Mrs. Jinks went to see. Throwing open the front door, there stood the +Misses Moore. Though debarred of the opening service, they would not +be done out of the kettledrum. + +"Are they here yet, Mrs. Jinks?" cried the young ladies eagerly. + +"Yes, they are here," replied the Widow Jinks, her cap (clean for the +occasion, and no bonnet) trembling with suppressed wrath. + +"Oh dear! Has tea begun?" + +"Begun, Miss Jemima! it's to be hoped it's three-parts over. I'll tell +you what it is, young ladies: when I agreed to let my parlours to the +Reverend Cattakin, I didn't bargain to keep the whole parish in +kettledrumming. Leastways, not to wait on 'em; and bile kettles for +'em, and toast muffins for 'em by the hour at a stretch. I thought +what a nice quiet lodger I should have--a single man, and him a +minister! Instead of which I might just as well keep an inn." + +The young ladies walked on, wisely giving no answer, and entered the +parlour. There they were presented to Mr. Cattacomb, and joined the +tea-table. + +Kettledrums, as we are all aware, cannot last for ever, and before +six o'clock Miss Blake was on her way back to Foxwood Court. The +discussion as to district visiting and other matters was postponed to +another day, Mr. Cattacomb pleading fatigue (and no wonder); and Miss +Blake--who was in point of fact the prime mover and prop and stay of +it all--inwardly thinking that a less crowded meeting would be more +conducive to business. As she was nearing the gate at Foxwood Court, +she met Mr. Smith sauntering along, apparently out for an airing. + +"Good afternoon, madam!" + +He would have passed with the words, but she stopped to talk with him. +The truth was, Miss Blake had taken, she knew not why or wherefore, a +liking for Mr. Smith. From the first moment she saw him he had +possessed a kind of attraction for her. It must be said that she +believed him to be a gentleman. + +"You were not at the opening service at St. Jerome's this afternoon, +Mr. Smith?" she said, half-reproachfully. + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I thought I should be out of place +there, as the congregation was comprised only of ladies," was his +reply. "Happening to be walking that way, I saw lots of them go in." + +"Foxwood cannot boast of gentlemen in the middle of the day; the few +who reside here are off to Basham for their different occupations. But +you are an idle man, Mr. Smith." + +"I am not always idle, I assure you, Miss Blake. I have Sir Karl +Andinnian's interests to look after." + +"Oh, indeed! As a friend, I presume?" + +"Just so." + +"Well, you would not have been quite solitary if you had come into the +church. Mr. Moore was there." + +"Ay. He looked in for five minutes, and came out laughing. I don't +know what amused him, unless it was to see the Misses Sumnor there." + +"I think you must have been watching us all--all who went in, and all +who came out," said Miss Blake. The agent smiled as he disclaimed the +imputation: and with that they parted. + +"Those flowers were so much admired and appreciated, Maclean," said +Miss Blake to the gardener as she passed the lodge--where he sat at +tea with his wife--the door open. "There are no such hothouse flowers +anywhere as yours." + +Maclean rose and thanked her for the compliment. She passed rapidly +on, and entered the house by the window of the North room. + +"I wonder where Lucy is?--Dressing, perhaps; or seated at the window +looking out for her husband. Foolish child! Does he deserve that +love?" + +Treading softly on the carpeted staircase, her knock at Lady +Andinnian's door and her entrance were simultaneous. Lucy, in her +white morning dress with its blue ribbons, was standing up beside her +husband. His arm was round her waist, her face lay upon his breast, +his own bent down upon it. + +It was an awkward moment for Miss Blake; she bit her lips as she +stammered an apology. Lucy, blushing and laughing, drew away. Karl +stood his ground, laughing too. + +"I did not know you had returned, Sir Karl." + +"I have just come; three minutes ago," he said, holding out his hand. +"Lucy was telling me you had gone to a kettledrum, and I saucily +assured her she must have dreamt it. Fancy kettledrums at Foxwood!" + +They separated for the purpose of dressing, Miss Blake biting her lips +still as she went to her room. The little matter had turned her hot +and cold. Do as she would, she could not get rid entirely of her love +for Karl Andinnian, in spite of the chronic resentment she indulged +towards him. + +"If this is jealousy," she murmured, sitting down to think, and +undoing her veil with fingers that thrilled to their extreme ends, "I +must indeed school myself. I thought I had learned to bear calmly." + +At dinner Sir Karl seemed in better spirits than usual. He told them +he had been to the Opera to hear the new singer, Ilma di Murska, in +"Robert le Diable." + +"Oh, Karl!--and not to have had me with you!" cried Lucy. + +"I will take you up on purpose, Lucy. You must hear her. In the song +'Robert, toi que j'aime' she electrified us all. I never heard +anything like it in my life. And she is most elegant on the stage. Her +dresses are splendid." + +"Was anyone there that you knew?" + +"I hardly looked at the house at all. I was in the stalls. The Prince +and Princess of Wales were in the royal box." + +"I am sure, Karl, it is a wonder to hear that you went!" + +"True, Lucy; but my evenings hung heavily on my hands. What with +Plunkett and Plunkett and other business matters, the days were busy +enough: I used to wish the evenings were. I felt very dull." + +"Just as I have been feeling here, Karl, without you." + +His answer to his wife was but a look; but Miss Blake wished she had +not caught it. What had she done, that his love should have missed her +to be lavished on this girl-child? + +"Sir Karl," she cried somewhat abruptly, "who is Mr. Smith?" + +"I don't know," carelessly replied Sir Karl, whose thoughts were +preoccupied. + +"Not know! but is he not your agent?--and a friend also?" + +Sir Karl was fully aroused now. "Know who Mr. Smith is?" he +repeated--and he wished to heaven in his secret heart that he did +know. "How do you mean, Miss Blake? He is Mr. Smith, and--yes--a kind +of agent to me on the estate." + +The latter part of the answer was given lightly, half merrily, as if +he would pass it off with a laugh. Miss Blake resumed. + +"Is he not an old friend of the Andinnian family?" + +"Of some of them, I believe. I did not know him myself." + +"Who gave him his appointment?" + +"My mother. She considered it well to have some responsible person +here to look after my interests, as I was living abroad." + +"Do you not intend, Sir Karl, to make an acquaintance of him?--a +friend?" + +For a moment Sir Karl's brows were heavily knitted. "I do not suppose +I shall," he quietly said. + +"He seems a well-informed, agreeable man; and is, I conclude, a +gentleman," returned Miss Blake, quite in a tone of remonstrance. + +"I am glad to hear it," replied Sir Karl, his manner somewhat +freezing. "And so, Lucy, you have had some of the neighbours calling +here?" he continued, addressing his wife and turning the conversation. + +"Oh, Karl, yes! And you were not here to help me; and I did not know +them, and confused their names hopelessly with one another." + +"I should not have known them either," laughed Sir Karl. + +Miss Blake had some letters to write, and got to them after dinner: +she had been too much engaged with other things during the day. Tea +was taken in early to the drawing-room, and afterwards she went +back early to her own room, the North room, to finish her writing by +what little light remained. She saw Sir Karl and Lucy in the garden +arm-in-arm, conversing together in low, confidential tones. Evidently +they were all-sufficient for each other and did not miss her. + +Say what we will, it could but seem to Miss Blake a neglect and +something worse, looking upon past matters in her own light; and it +told upon her cruelly. + +The evening dusk drew on. She heard Lucy at the piano in the +drawing-room, seemingly alone, trying a bit of one song and a bit of, +another. There was no doubt that Lucy thought Theresa was still busy +and would not interrupt her. Miss Blake put up her desk and sat at the +open window. By and by, when it was nearly dark, she threw a shawl on +her shoulders, stepped out, crossed the lawn, and lost herself amidst +the opposite trees. Miss Blake was that night in no mood for +companionship: she preferred her own company to that of Lucy or her +husband. As we say by the cross little children, the black dog was on +her back; she did not listen even to the sweet melody of the +nightingales. + +"But for St. Jerome's I would not stay another day here," ran her +thoughts. "I almost wish now I had not stirred in the church matter, +but let the benighted place alone. As it is--and Mr. Cattacomb's +come--why, I must make the best of it, and do my duty. Stay! stay, +Theresa Blake!" she broke off in self-soliloquising sternness. "Is +this fulfilling your good resolution--to give up all and bear all? Let +me put away these most evil thoughts and work bravely on, and stay +here cheerfully for Lucy's sake. It may be that she will want a +friend, and I--Oh, there he is!" + +The last sentence related to Karl. She had gradually got round the +house to the other side, which brought her in face of Sir Karl's room. +The doors of the window stood wide open; a lamp was on the table, by +the light of which he seemed to be reading a note and talking to +Hewitt, who stood near. Crossing over on the soft grass she drew +within ear-shot, not really with any intention of listening, but in +her mind's abstraction--what was there likely to pass between Sir Karl +and his servant that concerned her to hear? With the bright lamp +inside and the darkness out, they could not see her. + +"You must be very cautious, Hewitt," Sir Karl was saying. "Implicitly +silent." + +"I have been, sir, and shall be," was the answer. "There's no fear of +_me_. I have not had the interests of the family at heart all these +years, Sir Karl, to compromise them now." + +"I know, I know, Hewitt. Well, that's all, I think, for to-night." + +Miss Blake passed back again out of hearing, very slowly and +thoughtfully. She had heard the words, and was dissecting them: it +almost sounded as though Sir Karl and his man had some secret +together. Stepping on to the terrace, she was about to go in, when she +heard Sir Karl enter the drawing-room and speak to his wife. + +"I think I shall take a bit of a stroll, Lucy." + +"To smoke your cigar? Do so, Karl." + +"I--wonder--whether it is an excuse to go where he went the other +night?" thought Miss Blake, the idea striking her like a flash of +lightning. "I'll watch him. I will. I said I would, and I will. His +family may have interests of their own, but Lucy and her family have +theirs, and for her sake I'll watch." + +Drawing the shawl over her head, she passed out at one of the small +gates, crossed the road, and glided along under cover of the opposite +hedge as far as the Maze. There she stood, back amidst the trees, and +sheltered from observation. The dress she wore happened to be black, +for it was one of St. Jerome's fast-days, the shawl was black, and she +could not be seen in the shade. + +It was a still night. The dew was rising, and there seemed to be some +damp exhaled from the trees. The time passed, ever so many minutes, +and she began to think she had come on a fruitless errand. Or was it +that Sir Karl was only lingering with his wife? + +"Good gracious! What was that?" + +A shrill shriek right over Miss Blake's head had caused the words and +the start. It must have been only a night bird; but her nerves--what +few she had--were on the tension, and she began to tremble slightly. +It was not a pleasant position, and she wished herself away. + +"I'll go," she mentally cried. "I wish I had not come. I--hope--Mr. +Smith's--not looking out, or he will see me!" she added, slowly and +dubiously. + +The doubt caused her to stay where she was and strain her eyes at the +opposite cottage. Was it fancy? One of the windows stood open, and she +thought she saw a head and eyes peeping from it. Peeping, not openly +looking. + +"He must have seen me come!" decided Miss Blake. "But surely he'd not +know me, wrapped up like this! Hark!" + +A very slight sound had dawned upon her ear. Was it Sir Karl +advancing? Surely the sound was that of footsteps! At the same moment, +there arose another and separate sound; and that was close to her, +inside the gates by which she stood. + +"Some one must be coming out!" breathed Miss Blake. "It's getting +complicated. I wish I was safe away. Two pairs of eyes may see what +one would not." + +Sir Karl Andinnian--for the footsteps were his--advanced. Very quietly +and cautiously. Miss Blake could see that he had changed his dress +coat for another, which he had buttoned round him, though the night +was close. Halting at the gate he drew the key from his pocket as +before, unlocked it, and passed in. Some one met him. + +"Karl! I am so glad you have come! I thought you would! I knew you had +returned." + +It was a soft, sweet voice: the same voice, Miss Blake could have laid +a wager on it, that had sung "When lovely woman stoops to folly." +Their hands met: she was sure of that. Perhaps their lips also: but +she could not see. + +"Why, how did you know I was back?" he asked. "Oh, Ann came to the +gate to answer a ring, and saw you pass by from the station." + +"Why are you out here!" he resumed. "Is it prudent!" + +"I was restless, expecting you. I have so much to say; and, do you +know, Karl----" + +The voice sank into too low a tone to be audible to the thirsty ears +outside. Both had spoken but in whispers. Miss Blake cautiously +stretched forth her head, so as to get a glimpse through the +closely-barred gate. Yes: it was the lovely girl she had seen during +that stealthy visit of hers: and she had taken Sir Karl's arm while +she talked to him. Another minute, and they both disappeared within +the trees of the maze. + +Whether Miss Blake was glued to the trunk of the tree she stood at, or +whether it was glued to her, remains a problem to be solved. It was +one of the two. There she stood; and leave it she could not. That the +flood-gates of a full tide of iniquity had suddenly been opened upon +her was as clear to her mind as the light of day. Much that had been +incomprehensible in the Maze and its inmates admitted of no doubt now. +An instinct of this had been playing in her fancy previously: but she +had driven it away as fancy, and would not allow herself to dwell on +it. And now--it seemed as though she stood at the edge of a yawning +precipice looking down on a gulf of almost unnatural evil, from the +midst of which Sir Karl Andinnian shone prominently out, the +incarnation of all that was wicked and false and treacherous. But for +the necessity of stillness and silence, Miss Blake could have groaned +aloud. + +A few minutes, and she stole away. There was nothing to wait or watch +for: she knew all. Forgetting about Clematis Cottage and the eyes that +might be peeping from it, she got back into the grounds of Foxwood and +sat down on the bare terrace in the night to commune with herself. +What should her course be? Surely she ought to impart the secret to +that poor girl, Lucy, whom the man had dared to make his wife. + +Let us render justice to Miss Blake. Hard though she was by nature, +she strove to do her duty in all conscientiousness at all times and in +all places. Sin she detested, no matter of what nature; detested it +both as sin and for its offence against God. That Sir Karl Andinnian +was living in secret, if not open sin, and was cruelly deceiving his +innocent and unsuspicious wife, was clearly indisputable. It must not +be allowed to go on--at least so far as Lucy was concerned. To allow +her to remain the loving and unsuspicious partner of this man would be +almost like making her a third in the wickedness, was what Miss Blake +thought in her anger. And she decided on her course. + +"And I--if I did not enlighten her, knowing what I know--should be +countenancing and administering to the sin," she said aloud. "Good +heavens! what a pit seems to be around us! may I be helped to do +right!" + +Rising, and shaking the night dew from her hair, she passed upstairs +to her own chamber. Lady Andinnian was moving about her dressing-room. +Impulse induced Miss Blake to knock at the door. Not that she intended +to speak then. + +"Are you undressing, Lucy?" she asked, an unconscious pity in her +voice for the poor young wife. + +"Not yet, Theresa. Aglaé's coming up, though, I think. It was dull +downstairs by myself, and I thought I might as well come on. I could +not find you anywhere. I thought you must have gone to bed." + +"I was out of doors." + +"Were you? I called to you outside on the terrace, but no one +answered." + +"Sir Karl is out, then?" + +"He is strolling about somewhere," replied Lucy. "He does not sleep +well, and likes to take half an hour's stroll the last thing. It +strikes me sometimes that Karl's not strong, Theresa: but I try to +throw the fear off." + +Miss Blake drew in her lips, biting them to an enforced silence. She +was burning to say what she could say, but knew it would be premature. + +"I will wish you goodnight, Lucy, my dear. I am tired, and--and out +of sorts." + +"Good night, Theresa: dormez bien," was the gay answer. + +"To waste her love and solicitude upon _him!_" thought Miss Blake, as +she stepped along the corridor with erect head and haughty brow. "I +told Colonel Cleeve before the marriage that he was wild--little +Dennet had said so--but I was put down. No wonder Sir Karl cannot +spend his income on his home! he has other ways and means for it. Oh, +how true are the words of holy writ! 'The heart of man is deceitful +above all things, and desperately wicked.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +Revealed to Lady Andinnian. + + +The morning sun had chased away the dew on the grass, but the +hedge-rows were giving out their fragrance, and the lark and blackbird +sang in the trees. Miss Blake was returning from early service at St. +Jerome's; or, as St. Jerome people called it, Matins. + +In spite of the nearly sleepless night she had passed, Miss Blake +looked well. Her superabundance of hair, freshly washed up with its +cunning cosmetics and adorned to perfection, gleamed as if so many +golden particles of dust were shining on it: her morning robe was of +light muslin, and becoming as fashion could make it. It was very +unusual for Miss Blake to get little sleep: she was of too equable a +temperament to lie awake: but the previous night's revelation of +iniquity had disturbed her in no common degree, and her head had ached +when she rose. The headache was passing now, and she felt quite ready +for breakfast. A task lay before her that day: the disclosure to Lady +Andinnian. It was all cut and dried: how she should make it and when +she should make it: even the very words of it were already framed. + +She would not so much as turn her eyes on the gate of the Maze: had +she been on that side of the road she would have caught up her +flounces as she passed it. Never, willingly, would she soil her shoes +with that side of the way again by choice--the place had a brand on +it. It was quite refreshing to turn her eyes on Clematis Cottage, +sheltering the respectable single bachelor who lived there. + +Turning her eyes on the cottage, she turned them on the bachelor as +well. Mr. Smith in a light morning coat, and his arm as usual in a +black sling, was out of doors amidst the rose trees on the little +lawn, gazing at one of them through his green spectacles. Miss Blake +stopped as he saluted her, and good mornings were exchanged. + +"I am no judge of flowers," he said, "have not lived among them enough +for that; but it appears to me that this rose, just come out, is a +very rare and beautiful specimen." + +Obeying the evident wish--given in manner alone, not in words--that +she should go in and look at the rose, Miss Blake entered. It was a +tea-rose of exquisite tint and sweetness. Miss Blake was warm in her +admiration; she had not noticed any exactly like it at the Court. +Before she could stop the sacrilege Mr. Smith had opened his penknife, +cut off the rose, and was presenting it to her. + +"Oh, how could you!" she exclaimed. "It was so beautiful here, in your +garden." + +"Madam, it will be more beautiful there," he rejoined, as she began to +put it in her waistband. + +"I should be very sorry, but that I see other buds will soon be out." + +"Yes, by to-morrow. Earth dots not deal out her flowers to us with a +niggardly hand." + +Accompanying the resolution Miss Blake had come to the previous +evening and perfected in the night--in her eyes a very righteous and +proper resolution; namely, to disclose what she knew to Lady +Andinnian--accompanying this, I say, was an undercurrent of +determination to discover as many particulars of the ill-savoured +matter as she possibly could discover. Standing at this moment on Mr. +Smith's grass-plat, that gentleman beside her and the gates of the +Maze in full view opposite, an idea struck Miss Blake that perhaps he +knew something of the affair. + +She began to question him. Lightly and apparently carelessly, +interspersed with observations about the flowers, she turned the +conversation on the Maze, asking this, and remarking that. + +"Lonely it must be for Mrs. Grey? Oh, yes. How long has she lived +there, Mr. Smith?" + +"She came--let me see. Shortly, I think, before Mrs. Andinnian's +death." + +"Ah, yes. At the time Sir Karl was staying here." + +"Was Sir Karl staying here? By the way, yes, I think he was." + +Miss Blake, toying with a spray of the flourishing clematis, happened +to look suddenly at Mr. Smith as he gave the answer, and saw his +glance turned covertly on her through his green glasses. "He knows all +about it," she thought, "and is screening Sir Karl. That last answer, +the pretended non-remembrance, was an evasion. Men invariably hold by +one another in matters of this kind. Just for a moment there was a +silence. + +"Mr. Smith, you may trust me," she then said in a low tone. "I fancy +that you and I both know pretty well who it was brought the lady here +and why she lives in that seclusion. But I could never have believed +it of Sir Karl Andinnian." + +Mr. Smith in his surprise--and it looked like very genuine +surprise--took off his glasses and gazed at Miss Blake without them. +He had rather fine brown eyes, she noticed. Not a word spoke he. + +"You wonder that I should speak of this, Mr. Smith--I see that." + +"I don't understand you, ma'am, and that's the truth." + +"Oh, well, I suppose you will not understand. Sir Karl ought to be +ashamed of himself." + +Whether it was her tart tone that suddenly enlightened Mr. Smith, or +whether he had but been pretending before, there could be no mistake +that he caught her meaning now. He put on his green spectacles with a +conscious laugh. + +"Hush," said he, making believe playfully to hide his face. "We are +content, you know, Miss Blake, to ignore these things." + +"Yes, I do know it, dear sir: it is the way of the world. But they +cannot be ignored in the sight of Heaven." + +The striking of nine o'clock inside the house reminded Miss Blake that +the morning was getting on, and that she had best make haste if she +wanted any breakfast. Mr. Smith held the gate open for her, and shook +her offered hand. She stepped onwards, feeling that a mutual, if +silent, understanding had been established between them--that they +shared the disgraceful secret. + +Had Miss Blake wanted confirmation in her belief, this admission of +Mr. Smith's would have established it. But she did not. She was as +sure of the fact as though an angel had revealed it to her. The sight +of her own good eyes, the hearing of her true ears, and the exercise +of her keen common sense had established it too surely. + +"My task lies all plain before me," she murmured. "It is a +disagreeable one, and may prove a thankless one, but I will not shrink +from it. Who am I that I should turn aside from an appointed duty? +That it _has_ been appointed me, events show. I have been guided in +this by a higher power than my own." + +An appointed duty! Perhaps Miss Blake thought she had been "appointed" +to watch the Maze gates in the shade of the dark night, to track the +private steps of her unsuspicious host, Karl Andinnian! There is no +sophistry in this world like self-sophistry; nothing else so deceives +the human heart: more especially when it is hidden under a guise of +piety. + +Miss Blake found her opportunity in the course of the morning. A shade +of pity crossed her for the happiness she was about to mar, as she saw +the husband and wife out together after breakfast, amid the flowers. +Now Lucy's arm entwined fondly in his, now tripping by his side, now +calling his attention to some rare or sweet blossom, as Mr. Smith had +called Miss Blake's in the morning, went they. In Lucy's bright face, +as she glanced perpetually at her lord and husband, there was so much +of love, so much of trust: and in his, Sir Karl's, there was a whole +depth of apparent tenderness for her. + +"Men were deceivers ever," angrily cried Miss Blake, recalling a line +of the old ballad. "It's enough to make one sick. But I am sorry for +Lucy; it will be a dreadful blow. How I wish it could be inflicted on +him instead of her! In a measure it will fall on him--for of course +Lucy will take active steps." + +Later, when Sir Karl, as it chanced, had gone over to Basham, and Lucy +was in her pretty little dressing room, writing to some girl friend, +Miss Blake seized on the opportunity. Shutting herself in with Lady +Andinnian, she made the communication to her. She told it with as much +gentle consideration as possible, very delicately, and, in fact, +rather obscurely. At first Lady Andinnian did not understand, could +not understand; and when she was made to understand, her burning face +flashed forth its indignation, and she utterly refused to believe. + +Miss Blake only expected this. She was very soothing and tender. + +"Sit down, Lucy," she said. "Listen. On my word of honour, I would not +have imparted this miserable tale to inflict on you pain so bitter, +but that I saw it _must_ be done. For your sake, and in the interests +of everything that's right and just and seemly, it would not have done +to suffer you to remain in ignorance, a blind victim to the dastardly +deceit practised on you by your husband." + +"He could not so deceive me, Theresa; he could not deceive any one," +she burst forth passionately. + +"My dear, I only ask you to listen. You can then judge for yourself. +Do not take my word that it is, or must be, so. Hear the facts, and +then use your own common sense. Alas, Lucy, there can be no mistake: +but for knowing that, should I have spoken, think you? It is, +unfortunately, as true as heaven." + +From the beginning to the end, Miss Blake told her tale. She spoke out +without reticence now. Sitting beside Lucy on the sofa, and holding +her hands in hers with a warm and loving clasp, she went over it all. +The mystery that appeared to encompass this young lady, living alone +at the Maze in strict seclusion with her two old servants, who were +man and wife, she spoke of first as an introduction. She said how +curiously it had attracted her attention, unaccountably to herself at +the time, but that _now_ she knew a divine inspiration had guided her +to the instinct. She avowed how she had got in, and that it was done +purposely; and that she had seen the girl, who was called Mrs. Grey, +and was "beautiful as an angel," and heard her sing the characteristic +song (which might well indeed have been written of _her_), "When +lovely woman stoops to folly." Next, she described Sir Karl's secret +visits; the key he let himself in with, taken from his pocket; the +familiar and affectionate words interchanged between him and the girl, +who on the second occasion had come to the gate to wait for him. She +told Lucy that she had afterwards had corroborative evidence from Mr. +Smith, the agent: he appeared to know all about it, to take it as a +common matter of course, and to be content to ignore it after the +custom of the world. She said that Sir Karl had brought Mrs. Grey to +the Maze during the time he was staying at Foxwood in attendance on +his sick mother: and she asked Lucy to recall the fact of his +prolonged sojourn here, of his unwillingness to leave it and rejoin +her, his wife; and of the very evident desire he had had to keep her +altogether from Foxwood. In short, as Miss Blake put the matter--and +every syllable she spoke did she believe to be strictly true and +unexaggerated--it was simply impossible for the most unwilling +listener not to be convinced. + +Lady Andinnian was satisfied: and it was as her death-blow. Truth +itself could not have appeared more plain and certain. After the first +outburst of indignation, she had sat very calm and quiet, listening +silently. Trifles excite the best of us, but in a great calamity heart +and self alike shrink into stillness. Save that she had turned pale as +death, there was no sign. + +"Lucy, my poor Lucy, forgive me! I would have spared you if I could: +but I believe the task of telling you was _laid_ on me." + +"Thank you, yes; I suppose it was right to tell me, Theresa," came the +mechanical answer from the quivering lips. + +"My dear, what will be your course? You cannot remain here, his wife." + +"Would you please let me be alone, now, Theresa? I do not seem to be +able to think yet collectedly." + +The door closed on Miss Blake, and Lady Andinnian bolted it after her. +She bolted the other two doors, so as to make sure of being alone. +Then the abandonment began. Kneeling on the carpet, her head buried on +the sofa pillow, she lay realizing the full sense of the awful shock. +It shook her to the centre. Oh, how dreadful it was! She had so loved +Karl, so believed in him: she had believed that man rarely loved a +maiden and then a wife as Karl had loved her. This, then, must have +been the secret trouble that was upon him!--which had all but induced +him to break off his marriage! So she reasoned, and supposed she +reasoned correctly. All parts of the supposition, had she thought them +well out, might not perhaps have fitted-in to one another: but in a +distress such as this, no woman--no, nor man either--is capable of +working out problems logically. She assumed that the intimacy must +have been going on for years: in all probability long before he knew +her. + +An hour or so of this painful indulgence, and then Lady Andinnian rose +from the floor and sat down to think, as well as she could think, what +her course should be. _She_ was truly religious, though perhaps she +knew it not. Theresa Blake was ostensibly so, and very much so in her +own belief: but the difference was wide. The one had the real gold, +the other but the base coin washed over. She, Lucy, strove to think +and to see what would be right and best to do; for herself, for her +misguided husband, and in the sight of God. + +She sat and thought it out, perhaps for another hour. Aglaé came to +the door to say luncheon was served, but Lady Andinnian said Miss +Blake was to be told that she had a headache and should not take any. +To make a scandal and leave her husband's home--as Theresa seemed to +have hinted--would have gone well nigh to kill her with the shame and +anguish it would entail. And oh, she hoped, she trusted, that her good +father and mother, who had yielded to her love for Karl and so +sanctioned the marriage, might never, never know of this. She lifted +her imploring eyes and hands to Heaven in prayer that it might be kept +from them. She prayed that she might be enabled to do what was right, +and to _bear_: to bear silently and patiently, no living being, save +Sir Karl, knowing what she had to endure. + +For, while she was praying for the way to be made clear before her and +for strength to walk in it, however thorny it might be, an idea had +dawned upon her that this matter might possibly be kept from the +world,--might be held sacred between herself and Sir Karl. _Could_ +she? could she continue to live on at the Court, bearing in patient +silence--nay, in impatient--the cruel torment, the sense of insult? +And yet, if she did not remain, how would it be possible to conceal it +all from her father and mother? The very indecision seemed well nigh +to kill her. + +Visitors drove up to the house in the course of the afternoon--the +county families were beginning to call--and Lady Andinnian had to go +down. Miss Blake was off to one of St. Jerome's services--of which the +Reverend Guy Cattacomb was establishing several daily. Sir Karl came +home while the visitors were there. After their departure, when he +came to look round for his wife, he was told she had hastily thrown on +bonnet and mantle and gone out. Sir Karl rather wondered. + +Not only to avoid her husband, but also because she wanted to see +Margaret Sumnor, and perhaps gain from her a crumb of comfort in her +utter wretchedness, had Lady Andinnian run forth to gain the vicarage. +Margaret was lying as before, on her hard couch, or board; doing, for +a wonder, nothing. Her hands were clasped meekly before her on her +white wrapper, her eyelids seemed heavy with crying. But the eyes +smiled a cheerful greeting to Lady Andinnian. + +"Is anything the matter, Margaret?" + +It was but the old story, the old grievance; Margaret Sumnor was +pained by it, more or less, nearly every day of her life--the home +treatment of her father: the contempt shown to him by his second +family; ay, and by his wife. + +"It is a thing I cannot talk of much, Lucy. I should not speak of it +at all, but that it is well known to Foxwood, and commented on openly. +Caroline and Martha set papa at naught in all ways: the insolence of +their answers to him, both in words and manner, brings the blush of +pain and shame to his face. This time the trouble was about that new +place of Miss Blake's, St. Jerome's. Papa forbid them to frequent it; +but it was just as though he had spoken to a stone--in fact, worse; +for they retorted and set him at defiance. They wanted daily service, +they said, and should go where it was held. So now papa, I believe, +thinks of resuming his daily services here, at Trinity, hoping it may +counteract the other. There, that's enough of home and my red eyes, +Lucy. You don't look well." + +Lady Andinnian drew her chair quite close to the invalid, so that she +might let her hand rest in the one held out for her. "I have a trouble +too, Margaret," she whispered. "A dreadful, sudden trouble, a blow; +and I think it has nearly broken my heart. I cannot tell you what it +is; I cannot tell any one in the world----" + +"Except your husband," interposed Miss Sumnor. "Never have any +concealments from him, Lucy." + +Lady Andinnian's face turned red and white with embarrassment. "Yes, +him; I shall have to speak to him," she said, in some hesitation: and +Miss Sumnor's deep insight into others' hearts enabled her to guess +that the trouble had something to do with Sir Karl. She suspected it +was that painful thing to a young wife--a first quarrel. + +"I am not like you, Margaret--ever patient, ever good," faltered poor +Lady Andinnian. "I seem to be nearly torn apart with conflicting +thoughts--perhaps I ought to say passions--and I thought I would come +to you for a word of advice and comfort. There are two ways in which I +can act in this dreadful matter; and indeed that word is no +exaggeration, for it is very dreadful. The one would be to make a stir +in it, take a high tone, and set forth my wrongs; that would be +revenge, just revenge; but I hardly know whether it would be right, or +bring right. The other would be to put up with the evil in silence, +and _bear_; and leave the future to God. Which must I do?" + +Margaret Sumnor turned as much as she could turn without assistance, +and laid both her hands imploringly on Lady Andinnian's. + +"Lucy! Lucy! choose the latter. I have seen, oh, so much of this +revenge, and of how it has worked. My dear, I believe in my honest +heart that this revenge was never yet taken but it was repented of in +the end. However grave the justifying cause and cruel the provocation, +the time would come when it was heartily and bitterly regretted, when +its actor would say, Oh that I had not done as I did, that I had +chosen the merciful part!" + +There was a brief silence. Miss Sumnor resumed. + +"'Vengeance is mine; I will repay;' you know who says that, Lucy: but +you cannot know what I have seen and marked so often--that when that +vengeance is taken into human hands, it somehow defeats itself. It may +inflict confusion and ruin on the adversary; but it never fails to +tell in some way on the inflictor. It may be only in mental regret: +regret that may not set in until after long years; but, rely upon it, +he never fails, in his remorseful heart, to wish the past could be +undone. A regret, such as this, we have to carry with us to the grave; +for it can never be remedied, the revengeful act cannot be blotted +out. It has been done; and it stands with its consequences for ever: +consequences, perhaps, that we never could have foreseen." + +Lady Andinnian sat listening with drooping face. A softer expression +stole over it. + +"There is one thing we never can repent of, Lucy; and that is, of +choosing the path of mercy--of leniency. It brings a balm with it to +the sorely-chafed spirit, and heals in time. Do _you_ choose it, my +dear. I urge it on you with my whole heart." + +"I think I will, Margaret; I think I will," she answered, raising for +a moment her wet eyes. "It will mortify my pride and my self-esteem: +be always mortifying them; and I shall need a great deal of patience +to bear." + +"But you will be able to bear; to bear all; you know where to go for +help. Do this, Lucy; and see if in the future you do not find your +reward. In after years, it may be that your heart will go up with, a +great bound of joy and thankfulness. 'I did as Margaret told me,' you +will say, 'and bore.' Oh, if men and women did but know the future +that they lay up for themselves according as their acts shall be!--the +remorse or the peace." + +Lucy rose and kissed her. "It shall be so, Margaret," she whispered. +And she went away without another word. + +She strove to keep the best side uppermost in her mind as she went +home. Her resolution was taken; and, perhaps because it was taken, the +temptation to act otherwise and to choose revenge, rose up in all +manner of attractive colours. She could abandon her ill-doing husband +and start, even that night, for her parents' home; reveal the whole, +and claim their protection against him. This would be to uphold her +pride and her womanly self-respect: but oh, how it would pain them! +And they had given their consent to the marriage against their better +judgment for her sake; so to say, against their own will. No; she +could not, for very shame, tell them, and she prayed again that they +might never know it. + +"I _can_ take all the pain upon myself, and bear it without sign for +their sakes," she mentally cried. "Oh yes, and for mine, for the +exposure would kill me. I _can_ bear this; I must take it up as my +daily and nightly cross; but I could not bear that my own dear father +and mother, or the dear friends of my girlhood, should know he is +faithless to me--that he never could have loved me. Theresa, the only +one cognisant of it, will be silent for my sake." + +Bitter though the decision was, Lucy could but choose it. She had +believed Karl Andinnian to be one of the few good men of the earth; +she had made him her idol; all had seen it. To let them know that the +idol had fallen from his pedestal, and _so_ fallen, would reflect its +slighting disgrace on her, and be more than human nature could +encounter. + +Her interview with Sir Karl took place that evening. She had managed, +save at dinner, to avoid his presence until then. It was held in her +dressing-room at the dusk hour. He came up to know why she stayed +there alone and what she was doing. In truth, she had been schooling +herself for this very interview, which had to be got over before she +went to rest. The uncertainty of what she could say was troubling her, +even the very words she should use caused her perplexity. In her +innate purity, her sensitively refined nature, she could not bring +herself to speak openly to her husband upon topics of this unpleasant +kind. That fact rendered the explanation more incomplete and +complicated than it would otherwise have been. He had come up, and she +nerved herself to the task. As good enter on it now as an hour later. + +"I--I want to speak to you, Sir Karl." + +He was standing by the open window, and turned his head quickly. Sir +Karl! "What's amiss, Lucy?" he asked. + +"I--I--I know all about your secret at the Maze," she said with a +great burst of emotion, her chest heaving, her breath coming in gasps. + +Sir Karl started as though he had been shot. His very lips turned of +an ashy whiteness. + +"Lucy! You cannot know it!" + +"Heaven knows I do," she answered. "I have learnt it all this day. Oh, +how could you so deceive me?" + +Sir Karl's first act was to dart to the door that opened on the +corridor and bolt it. He then opened the two doors leading to the +chambers on either side, looked to see that no one was in either of +them, shut the doors again, and bolted them. + +"Sir Karl, this has nearly killed me." + +"Hush!" he breathed. "Don't talk of it aloud, for the love of God!" + +"Why did you marry me?" she asked. + +"Why, indeed," he retorted, his voice one of sad pain. "I have +reproached myself enough for it since, Lucy." + +She was silent. The answer angered her; and she had need of all her +best strength, the strength she had so prayed for, to keep her lips +from a cruel answer. She sat in her low dressing-chair, gazing at him +with reproachful eyes. + +He said no more just then. Well-nigh overwhelmed with the blow, he +stood back against the window-frame, his arms folded, his face one of +pitiful anguish. Lucy, his wife, had got hold of the dreadful secret +that was destroying his own peace, and that he had been so cunningly +planning to conceal. + +"How did you learn it?" he asked. + +"I shall never tell you," she answered with quiet firmness, resolved +not to make mischief by betraying Theresa. "I know it, and that is +enough. Put it down, if you choose, that it was revealed to me by +accident--or that I guessed at." + +"But, Lucy, it is necessary I should know." + +"I have spoken, Sir Karl. I will never tell you." The evening breeze +came wafting into that room of pain; cooling, it might be, their +fevered brows, though they were not conscious of it. Lady Andinnian +resumed. + +"The unpardonable deceit you practised on my father and mother----" + +Sir Karl's start of something like horror interrupted her. "They must +never know it, Lucy. In mercy to us all, you must join with me in +concealing it from them." + +"It was very wicked in you to have concealed it from them at all. At +least, to have married me _with_ such a secret--for I conclude you +could not have really dared to tell them. They deserved better at your +hands. I was their only daughter: all they had to love." + +"Yes, it was wrong. I have reproached myself since worse than you can +reproach me. But I did not know the worst then." + +She turned from him proudly. "I--I wanted to tell you, Sir Karl, that +I for one will never forgive or forget your falsehood and deceit; and, +what I am about to say, I say for my father and mother's sake. I will +keep it from them, always if I can; I will bury it within my own +breast, and remain on here in your home, your ostensible wife. I had +thought of leaving your house for theirs, never to return; but the +exposure it would bring frightened me; and, in truth, I shrink from +the scandal." + +"What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "My 'ostensible' wife?" + +"I shall never be your wife again in reality. That can be your +room"--pointing to the one they had jointly occupied; "this one is +mine," indicating the chamber on the other hand. "Aglaé has already +taken my things into it." + +Sir Karl stood gazing at her, lost in surprise. + +"No one but ourselves need know of this," she resumed, her eyes +dropping before the tender, pitiful gaze of his. "The arrangements are +looked upon by Aglaé as a mere matter of convenience in the hot +weather; the servants will understand it as such. I would spare us +both gossip. For your sake and for mine I am proposing this medium +course--to avoid the scandal that otherwise must ensue. I shall have +to bear, Karl--to bear----" her heart nearly failed her in its bitter +grief--"but it will be better than a public separation." + +"You _cannot_ mean what you say," he exclaimed. "Live apart from me! +The cause cannot justify it." + +"It scarcely becomes you to say this. Have you forgotten the sin?" she +added, in a whisper. + +"The sin? Well, of course it was sin--crime, rather. But that is of +the past." + +She thought she understood what he wished to imply, and bit her lips +to keep down their bitter words. + +He was surely treating her as the veriest child, striving to hoodwink +her still! That he was agitated almost beyond control, she saw: and +did not wonder at. + +"The sin is past," he repeated. "No need to recall it or talk of it." + +"Be it so," she scornfully said. "Its results remain. _This_, I +presume, was the great secret you spoke of the night before our +marriage." + +"It was. And you see now, Lucy, why I did not dare to speak more +openly. I grant that it would have been enough to prevent our +marriage, had you then so willed it: but, being my wife, it is not any +sufficient cause for you to separate yourself from me." + +And, in answer to a question of mine, he could boast that night of his +innocence! ran her indignant thoughts. + +"I am the best judge of that," she said aloud, in answer. "Not +sufficient cause! I wonder you dare say it. It is an outrage on all +the proprieties of life. You must bring--them--to the Maze here, close +to your roof, and mine!" + +In her shrinking reticence, she would not mention to him the girl in +plain words; she would not even say "her," but substituted the term +"them," as though speaking of Mrs. Grey and her servants collectively. +Sir Karl's answer was a hasty one. + +"That was not my doing. The coming to the Maze was the greatest +mistake ever made. I was powerless to help it." + +Again she believed she understood. That when Sir Karl had wished to +shake off certain trammels, he found himself not his own master in the +matter, and could not. + +"And so you submitted?" she scornfully said. + +"I had no other choice, Lucy." + +"And you pay your visits there!" + +"Occasionally. I cannot do otherwise." + +"Does it never occur to you to see that public exposure may come? she +continued, in the same contemptuous tone. For the time, Lucy +Andinnian's sweet nature seemed wholly changed. Every feeling she +possessed had risen up against the bitter insult thrust upon her--and +Sir Karl seemed to be meeting it in a coolly insulting spirit. + +"The fear of exposure is killing me, Lucy," he breathed, his chest +heaving with its painful emotion. "I have been less to blame than you +imagine. Let me tell you the story from the beginning, and you will +see that----" + +"I will not hear a word of it," burst forth Lucy. "It is not a thing +that should be told to me. At any rate, I will not hear it." + +"As you please, of course; I cannot force it on you. My life was +thorny enough before: I never thought that, even if the matter came to +your knowledge, you would take it up in this cruel manner, and add to +my pain and perplexity." + +"It is for the Maze that we have to be economical here!" she rejoined, +partly as a question, her hand laid on her rebellious bosom. + +"Yes, yes. You see, Lucy, in point of fact----" + +"I see nothing but what I do see. I wish to see no further." + +Sir Karl looked searchingly at her, as though he could not understand. +Could this be his own loving, gentle Lucy? It was indeed difficult to +think so. + +"In a day or two when you shall have had time to recover from the +blow, Lucy--and a blow I acknowledge it to be--you will, I hope, judge +me more leniently. You are my wife and I will not give you up: there +is no real cause for it. When you shall be calmer you may feel sorry +for some things you have said now." + +"Sir Karl, listen: and take your choice. I will stay on in your home +on the terms I have mentioned, and they shall be perfectly understood +and agreed to by both of us; or I will leave it for the protection of +my father's home. In the latter case I shall have to tell him why. It +is for you to choose." + +`"Have you well weighed what your telling would involve?" + +"Yes; exposure: and it is that I wish to avoid. If it has to come, it +will be your fault. The choice lies with you. My decision is +unalterable." + +Sir Karl Andinnian wiped his brow of the fever-drops gathered there. +It was a bitter moment: and he considered that his wife was acting +with most bitter harshness. But no alternative was left him, for he +dared not risk exposure and its awful consequences. + +And so, that was the decision. They were to live on, enemies, under +the same roof-top: or at best, not friends. The interview lasted +longer; but no more explicit explanation took place between them: and +when they parted they parted under a mutual and total misapprehension +which neither of the two knew or suspected. Misapprehension had +existed throughout the interview--and was to exist. It was one of +those miserable cases that now and then occur in the world--a mutual +misunderstanding, for which no one is to blame. Sometimes it is never +set right on this side the grave. + +Her heart was aching just as much as his. She loved him passionately, +and she was calming down from her anger to a softer mood, such as +parting always brings. "Will you not send the--the people away?" she +whispered in a last word, and with a burst of grief. + +"If I can I will," was his answer. "I am hemmed in, Lucy, by all kinds +of untoward perplexities, and I cannot do as I would. Goodnight. I +never could have believed you would take it up like this." + +They shook hands and parted. The affair had been at last amicably +arranged, so to say: and the separation was begun. + +And so Sir Karl and Lady Andinnian were henceforth divided, and the +household knew it not. + +Miss Blake did not suspect a word of it. She saw no signs of any +change--for outwardly Karl and his wife were civil and courteous to +each other as usual; meeting at meals, present together in daily +intercourse. After a few days Miss Blake questioned Lady Andinnian. + +"Surely you have not been so foolishly soft as to condone that matter, +Lucy?" + +But Lucy wholly refused to satisfy her. Nay, she smiled, and as good +as tacitly let Miss Blake suppose that she might have been soft and +foolish. Not even to her, or to any other living being, would Lucy +betray what was sacred between herself and her husband. + +"I am content to let it rest, Theresa: and I must request that you +will do the same. Sir Karl and I both wish it." + +Miss Blake caught the smile and the gently evasive words, and was +struck mute at Lucy's sin and folly. She quite thought she ought to +have an atonement offered up for her at St. Jerome's. Surely Eve was +not half so frail and foolish when she took the apple! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +A Night at the Maze. + + +The Maze was an old-fashioned, curious house inside, full of angles +and passages and nooks and corners. Its rooms were small, and not many +in number, the principal ones being fitted up with dark mahogany +wainscoting. The windows were all casement windows with the exception +of two: into those, modern sashes of good size had been placed by the +late owner and occupant, Mr. Throcton. At Mr. Throcton's death the +property was put up for sale and was bought by Sir Joseph Andinnian, +furniture and all, just as it stood. Or, it may rather be said, was +bought by Lady Andinnian; for the whim to buy it was hers. Just after +the purchase had been entirely completed Lady Andinnian sickened and +died. Sir Joseph, ill at the time, did nothing whatever with the new +place; so that on his death it came into the possession of his heirs +in exactly the same state as when it was purchased. They let it be +also, and it remained shut up. According to what Mr. Smith informed +Miss Blake--and he was in the main correct, though not quite--Mrs. +Grey had come to it and taken possession while Mrs. Andinnian lay ill +at Foxwood and her son Karl was in attendance on her. But the little +fable the agent had made use of--that he had gone over to the Maze to +receive the premium from Mrs. Grey on taking possession--had no +foundation in fact. He had certainly gone to the Maze and seen the +lady called Mrs. Grey, but not to receive a premium, for she paid +none. + +The two rooms into which sash windows had been placed were--the one +that faced Miss Blake when she had penetrated to the confines of the +Maze on that unlucky day, and within which she had seen the +unconscious Mrs. Grey; and the one above it. They were at the end of +the house, looking towards the entrance gates. Into this upper room +the reader must pay a night visit. It was used as a sitting-room. The +same dark mahogany wainscoting lined the walls as in the room below, +the furniture was dark and heavy-looking; and, in spite of the sultry +heat of the night, the shutters were closed before the window and dull +crimson curtains of damask wool were drawn across them. There was +nothing bright in the appendages of the room, save the lighted lamp on +the table and a crystal vase of hothouse flowers. + +Seated at the table at work--the making of an infant's frock--was +Mrs. Grey. Opposite to her, in the space between the table and the +fire-place, sat Sir Karl; and by her side, facing him--Adam Andinnian. + +It is more than probable that this will be no surprise; that the +reader has already divined the truth of the secret, and all the +miserable complication it had brought and was bringing in its train. +It was not Adam Andinnian who had died in that fatal scuffle off +Portland Island--or more strictly speaking, off Weymouth--but one of +the others who had been concerned in it. + +Yes, there he sat, in life and in health; his speech as free, his +white and beautiful teeth not less conspicuous than of yore--Sir Adam +Andinnian. Karl, sitting opposite with his grave, sad face, was not in +reality Sir Karl and never had been. + +But Adam Andinnian was altered. The once fine black hair, which it had +used to please him to wear long in the neck, was now short, scanty, +and turned to grey; his once fine fresh colour had given place to +pallor, and he was growing a beard that looked grey and stubbly. +Decidedly old-looking now, as compared with the past, was Adam +Andinnian. He wore evening dress: just as though he had been attired +for a dinner party--say--at Foxwood Court. Mrs. Grey--as she was +called, though she was in reality Lady Andinnian wore a summer dress +of clear white muslin, through which might be seen her white neck and +arms. It was the pleasure of her husband, Sir Adam, that in the +evening, when only he dared to come out of his hiding-shell, they +should keep up, in attire at least, some semblance of the state that +ought to have been theirs. + +"I can tell you, Karl, that I don't approve of it," Sir Adam was +saying, with all his old haughty bearing and manner. "It's a regular +scandal. What business has any one to set up such a thing on my land?" + +"It's Truefit's land for the time being, you know, Adam. He gave the +consent." + +"A parcel of foolish people--be-vanitied boys of self-called priests, +and be-fooled girls, running and racing to the place four or five +times a day under pretence of worship!" continued Sir Adam, getting up +to pace the room in his excitement, as though he would have burst +through its small confines. "I won't permit it, Karl." + +He seemed to have got somewhat shorter, and his walk had a limp in it. +But he was the same hasty, fiery, Adam Andinnian. A man cannot well +change his nature. + +"I do not see how it is to be prevented," was Karl's answer. "It will +not do in our position, to raise a stir over anything, or to make +enemies. I daresay it will bring itself to an end some way or other." + +"The whole parish is making fun of it, I find: Ann hears it talked of +when she goes on errands. And it is a downright insult on Mr. Sumnor. +What a curious-minded person that Miss Blake must be! Rose"--Sir Adam +halted close to his wife--"if ever you put your foot inside this St. +Jerome's I'll not forgive you." + +She lifted her eyes to his from the baby's frock. "I am not likely to +go to it, Adam." + +"The empty-headed creatures that girls are, now-a-days! If +bull-baiting came up, they'd run off to it, just as readily as the +good girls of former days would run from any approach of evil to take +shelter under their mother's wing. Does your wife frequent St. +Jerome's, Karl?" + +"Oh no." + +"She shows her sense." + +Karl Andinnian smiled. "You have not lost the old habit, Adam--the +putting yourself into a heat for nothing. I came over this evening to +have some serious talk with you. Do sit down." + +"Yes do, Adam," added his wife, turning to him; "you will get the pain +in your hip again. Do you wish me to go away?" she added to Karl, as +she prepared to gather up her working materials. + +"No, no, Rose: it's only the old story, I know--the wanting to get rid +of me," interposed Sir Adam, sitting down himself. "Stay where you +are, wife. Now for it, Karl.--Wait a moment, though" he added, ringing +the bell. + +It was answered by the same staid, respectable-looking servant seen by +Miss Blake; the same confidential woman who had lived with Mrs. +Andinnian at Weymouth--Ann Hopley. + +"Ann, I am as thirsty as a fish," said her master. "Bring up a bottle +of soda-water and a dash of brandy." + +"Yes, sir," she replied--not daring now or at any other time to give +him his title. + +He opened the soda-water himself when it was brought, put in the +brandy, drank it, and sat down again. Karl Andinnian began to speak, +feeling an innate certainty that his words would be wasted ones. + +But some explanation of the past is necessary, and it may as well be +given here. + +When Karl Andinnian went down from London to Weymouth upon the news of +his brother's attempted escape and death, he found his mother in a +dreadful state of distress--as already related. This distress was not +put on: indeed such distress it would not be possible to assume: for +Mrs. Andinnian believed the public accounts--that Adam was dead. +_After_ she had despatched Karl to Foxwood to make arrangements for +the interment, the truth was disclosed to her, Sir Adam had escaped +with life, and was lying concealed in Weymouth; but he had been +terribly knocked about in the scuffle, and in fact had been considered +dead. By the careless stupidity of one of the warders, or else by his +connivance, Mrs. Andinnian never entirely knew which, he was reported +at the prison as being dead--and perhaps the prison thought itself +well rid of so obstreperous an inmate. The warders had said one to +another from the time he was first put there, that that Andinnian +gentleman had "mischief" in him. Further explanation may be given +later on in the story: at present it is enough to say that Adam +Andinnian escaped. + +When Mrs. Andinnian arrived with the body (supposed to be her son's) +at Foxwood, she then knew the truth. Adam was not dead. He was lying +somewhere in great danger; they would not, from motives Of prudence, +allow her to know where; but, dead he was not. Not a hint did she +disclose of this to Karl; and he stood by her side over the grave, +believing it was his brother that was placed in it. She called him Sir +Karl; she never gave him a hint that his succession to the title and +estates was but a pseudo one; she suffered him to depart in the false +belief. Perhaps she did not dare to speak of it, even to him. Karl +went abroad, re-met Lucy Cleeve, and became engaged to her. He caused +the marriage settlements to be drawn up and signed, still never +dreaming that he had no legal right to settle, that the revenues were +not his. Only when he went down to Foxwood, a day or two before his +marriage, did he become acquainted with the truth. + +That was the dread secret disclosed to him by his mother; that, in her +fear, she had made him take an oath to keep--"Adam is not dead." Just +at the first moment Karl thought her intellects must be wandering: but +as she proceeded in a few rapid words to tell of his escape, of his +dangerous illness, of his lying even then, hidden away from the +terrors of the law, all the dreadful position of his ill-fated brother +rushed over Karl as in one long agony. He saw in vivid colours the +hazard Adam was running--and must ever run, until either death or +recapture should overtake him; he saw as if portrayed in a mirror the +miserable future that lay before him, the lonely fugitive he must be. + +To Karl Andinnian's mind, no fate in this world could be so miserable. +Even death on the scaffold would to himself have been preferable to +this lifetime of living dread. He had loved his brother with a keen +love; and he felt this almost as a death-blow: he could have died in +his love and pity, if by that means his brother might be saved. +Mingling with this regret had come the thought of his own changed +position, and that he ought not to marry. + +This he said. But Mrs. Andinnian pointed out to him that his position +would not be so very materially altered. Such was her conviction. That +she herself, by connivance with one of the warders, had mainly +contributed to the step Adam had taken, that she had been the first to +put it into his head, and set him on to attempt it, she was all too +remorsefully conscious of. Now that he had escaped, and was entered in +the prison rolls as dead, and lay hidden away in some hole or corner, +not daring to come out of it, or to let into it the light of day, she +saw what she had done. Not even to her might his hiding-place be +disclosed. She saw that his future life must be, at the very best, +that of a nameless exile--if, by good fortune, he could make his +escape from his own land. If? His person was rather a remarkable one, +and well known to his enemies the police force. Not one, perhaps, but +had his photograph. A fugitive in some barren desert, unfrequented by +man, where he must drag on a solitary life of expatriation! Not much +of his income would be needed for this. + +"You will have to occupy Foxwood as its master; you must be Sir Karl +to the world as you are now," spoke Mrs. Andinnian; "and it is your +children who will inherit after you. There is no reason whatever for +breaking off your marriage, or for altering any of the arrangements. +You will have to pay a certain sum yearly to Adam out of the estate. +He will not need it long, poor fellow; a man's life, banned to the +extent his will be, eats itself away soon." + +Hemmed in by perplexities of all kinds, Karl's interview with his +mother ended, and he went forth with his care and trouble. His own +trouble would have been enough, but it was as nothing to that felt for +his brother. He dared not tell the truth to Colonel Cleeve or to Lucy, +or impart the slightest hint that his brother was alive; he almost as +little dared, for Lucy's sake, to break off the marriage. And so it +took place. + +After that, he heard no more until he was again at Foxwood, summoned +thither by his mother's illness. Mrs. Andinnian had fretted herself +sick. Night and day, night and day was the fear of her son's discovery +ever before her mind; she would see the recapture in her dreams: +remorse wore her out, and fever supervened. She would have given all +she possessed in the world could he be safely back at Portland Island +without having attempted to quit it. Karl, on his arrival, found her +in this sad state: and it was then she disclosed to him a further +complication in the case, which she had but recently learnt herself. +Sir Adam Andinnian was married. + +It may be remembered that he was for a few days absent from his home +in Northamptonshire, returning to it only on the eve of the day that +news came of Sir Joseph's death, the fatal day when he killed Martin +Scott. He had left home for the purpose of marrying Rose Turner, who +was staying in Birmingham, a measure which had previously been planned +between them. But for his mother's prejudices--as he called them--he +would have married the young lady in the face of day; but he knew she +would never consent, and he did not care openly to set her at naught. +"We will be married in private, Rose," he decided, "and I will feel my +way afterwards to disclose it to my mother." And Miss Rose Turner +cared for him too much to make any objection. Alas, the time never +came for him to disclose it. On the very day after his return to his +home, the young lady returning to hers, to her unsuspicious friends, +he was thrown into prison on the charge of murder. It was not a time +to speak; he wished to spare comment and annoyance to her; and she +gave evidence at the trial--which she could 'not have done had she +been his acknowledged wife. All this had been disclosed to Mrs. +Andinnian the day after Karl left to celebrate his marriage. The +stranger, Mr. Smith, spoken of by Hewitt as presenting himself again +that day at Foxwood, and demanding an interview with its mistress, +told her of it then. It was another bitter blow for Mrs. Andinnian, +and the distress of mind it induced no doubt helped to bring on the +fever. This, in her turn, she disclosed to Karl later from her +sick-bed; and for him it made the complication ten times worse. Had he +known his brother had a wife, nothing would have induced him to marry +Lucy. Mrs. Andinnian told him more; that Adam had escaped safely to +London, where he then lay hidden, and where his wife had joined him; +and that they were coming to inhabit the Maze at Foxwood. The last bit +of news nearly struck Karl dumb. + +"Is Adam mad?" he asked. + +"No, very sane," replied Mrs. Andinnian. "He wants to be at least on +his own grounds: and we all think--he and I and--no matter--that he +may be safer here than anywhere. Even were there a suspicion abroad +that he is alive--which there is not, and I trust never will be,--his +own place is the very last place that people would look into for him. +Besides, there will be precautions used--and the Maze is favourable +for concealment." + +"It will be utter madness," spoke Karl. "It will be putting himself +into the lion's mouth.' + +"It will be nothing of the sort--or Mr. Smith would not approve of +it," retorted Mrs. Andinnian. "I must see my son, Karl: and how else +am I to see him? I may not go to him where he is: it might bring +suspicion on him; but I can go over to the Maze." + +"Who is Mr. Smith?--and what has he to do with Adam?--and how comes he +in the secret?" reiterated Karl. + +But to this he could get no answer. Whether Mrs. Andinnian knew, or +whether she did not know, she would not say. The one fact--that Mr. +Smith held the dangerous secret, and must be conciliated, was quite +enough, she said, for Karl Mr. Smith had Adam's safety and interest at +heart, she went on to state; he wished to be near the Maze to watch +over him; and she had given him the pretty cottage opposite the Maze +gates to live in, calling him Sir Karl's agent, and appointing him to +collect a few rents, so as to give a colouring of ostensibility to the +neighbourhood. In vain Karl remonstrated. It was useless. The ground +seemed slipping from under all their feet, but he could do nothing. + +After all, poor Mrs. Andinnian did not live to see her most beloved +son. Anxiety, torment, restlessness, proved too much for her, and +brought on the crisis sooner than was expected. On the very day after +she died, the tenants came to the Maze--at least, all the tenants who +would be seen openly, or be suspected of inhabiting it. They arrived +by the last evening train; Mrs. Grey and her attendants, the Hopleys; +and took two flies, which were waiting in readiness, on to the Maze; +the lady occupying one, Hopley and his wife the other. How Adam +Andinnian reached the place, it is not convenient yet to state. + +In the course of the next evening, Karl Andinnian went over to the +Maze and saw his brother. Adam was much altered. In the fever, which +had supervened on his injuries received at the escape, he had lost his +hair and become pale and thin. But his spirits were undaunted. He +should soon "pick up" now he was in the free open country air and on +his own grounds, he said. As to danger, he seemed not to see it, and +declared there was less risk of discovery there than anywhere else. +Karl could play the grand man and the baronet for him at Foxwood--but +he meant, for all that, to have a voice in the ruling of his own +estate. Poor Karl Andinnian, on the contrary, saw the very greatest +danger in the position of affairs. He would have preferred to shut up +Foxwood, leaving only Hewitt to take care of it, that no chance of +discovery should arise from either servants or other inhabitants +there. But Sir Adam ruled it otherwise; saying he'd not have the Court +left to stagnate. Hewitt was in the secret. It might have been neither +expedient nor practicable to keep it from him: but the question was +decided of itself. One evening just before Mrs. Andinnian's death, +when Hewitt had gone to her sick-room on some errand at the dusk hour, +she mistook him for Karl; and spoke words which betrayed all. Karl was +glad of it: it seemed a protection to Adam, rather than not, that his +tried old servant should be cognizant of the truth. So Karl went +abroad again with his wife, and stayed until his keeping aloof from +Foxwood began to excite comment in his wife's family; when he deemed +it more expedient to return to it. + +And now does the reader perceive all the difficulties of Karl +Andinnian? There he was, in a false position: making believe to be a +baronet of the realm, and a wealthy man, and the owner of Foxwood: and +obliged to make believe. A hint to the contrary, a word that he was +not in his right place, might have set suspicion afloat--and Heaven +alone knew what would then be the ending. For Adam's sake he must be +wary and cunning; he must play, so to say, the knave's part and +deceive the world. But the dread of his brother's discovery lay upon +him night and day, with a very-present awful dread: it was as a +burning brand eating away his heart. + +And again--you, my reader, can now understand the complication between +Karl and his wife. He believed she had discovered the fact that Adam +was alive and living concealed at the Maze; _she_, relying on Miss +Blake's information, put down the Maze mystery to something of a very +different nature. How could he suppose she meant anything but the +dangerous truth? How could she imagine that the secret was any other +than Miss Blake had so clearly and convincingly disclosed to her? In +Lucy's still almost maidenly sensitiveness, she could not bring her +lips to allude openly to the nature of her charge: and there was no +necessity: she assumed that Karl knew it even better than she did. In +his reluctance to pronounce his brother's name or hint at the secret, +lest even the very air should be treacherous and carry it abroad, he +was perhaps less open than he might have been. When he offered to +relate to her the whole story, she stopped him and refused to listen: +and so closed up the explanation that would have set the cruel doubt +right and her heart at rest. + +Sitting there with Adam to-night, in that closely curtained room, Karl +entered upon the matter he had come to urge--that his brother should +get away from the Maze into some safer place. It was, as Sir Adam +expressed it, but the old story--for Karl had never ceased to urge it +from the first--and he wholly refused to listen. There was no risk, he +said, no fear of discovery, and he should not go away from his own +land. Either from this little particular spot of land which was +individually his, or from the land of his birth. It was waste of words +in Karl to speak further. Adam had always been of the most obstinate +possible temperament. But the (supposed) discovery of his wife had +frightened Karl worse than ever. He did not mention it to them, since +he was not able to say how Lucy had made it. + +"As sure as you are living, Adam, you will some day find the place +entered by the officers of justice!" he exclaimed in pain. + +"Let them enter it," recklessly answered Sir Adam. "They'll not find +me." + +"Oh, Adam, you don't know. They are lynx-eyed and crafty men." + +"No doubt. I am all safe, Karl." + +Karl had been there longer than usual, and he rose to say good night. +Mrs. Grey--for convenience sake we must continue to call her by that +name, and Lucy Lady Andinnian--folded up her work and went downstairs +with him. She was changed too; but for the better. The very pretty, +blooming-faced Rose Turner had come in for her share of the world's +bitter trouble, and it had spiritualized her. The once round face was +oval now, the lovely features were refined, the damask cheeks were a +shade more delicate, the soft blue eyes had a sad light in them. Miss +Blake's words were not misapplied to her--"beautiful as an angel." + +"Karl," she whispered, "the dread of discovery is wearing me out. If +we could but get away from England!" + +"I am sure it will wear out me," was Karl's answer. + +"Adam is afraid of Mr. Smith, I am sure. He thinks Smith would stop +his going. Karl, I fully believe, as truly as I ever believed any +great truth in my life, that Mr. Smith is keeping us here and will not +let us go. Mr. Smith may appear to be a friend outwardly, but I fear +he is an inward enemy. Oh, dear! it is altogether a dreadful +situation." + +Karl went on home, his brain active, his heart sinking. The manner in +which his wife had taken up the matter, distressed him greatly. He +supposed she was resenting it chiefly on the score of her father and +mother. The colonel had told him that they would rather have followed +Lucy to the grave than see her his wife had Sir Adam lived. + +"I wonder how she discovered it?" ran his thoughts--but in truth the +fact did not excite so much speculation in his mind, because he was +hourly living in the apprehension that people must suspect it. When we +hold a dangerous secret, this is sure to be the case. "Perhaps Hewitt +let drop an incautious word," he went on musing, "and Lucy caught it +up, and guessed the rest. Or--perhaps I dropped one in my sleep." + +Crossing the lawn of the Court, he entered by the little smoking-room, +his hand pressed upon his aching brow. No wonder that people found +fault with the looks of Sir Karl Andinnian! He was wearing to a +skeleton. Just as his mother, when she was dying, used to see the +recapture of Adam in her dreams, so did Karl see it in his. Night +after night would he wake up from one of the dreadful visions. Adam, +the retaken convict, held fast by a heap of scowling, threatening +warders, and a frightful scaffold conspicuous in the distance. He +would start up in bed in horror, believing it all real, his heart +quivering, and once or twice he knew that he had cried out aloud. + +"Yes, yes, that's how it must have been," he said, the mystery +becoming apparently clear to his eyes as the light of day. "Hewitt is +too cautious and true. I have betrayed it in my sleep. Oh, my brother! +May Heaven help and save him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +Before the World. + + +Foxwood court was alive with gaiety. At least, what stood for gaiety +in that inwardly sad and sober house. Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve had come +for a fortnight's stay. Visits were being exchanged with the +neighbours; dinner parties reigned. It was not possible for Sir Karl +and Lady Andinnian to accept hospitality and not return it: and--at +any rate during the sojourn of the Colonel and his wife--Sir Karl +dared not shut themselves up as hermits lest comment should be +excited. So the Court held its receptions, and went out to other +people's: and Sir Karl and Lady Andinnian dressed, and talked, and +comported themselves just as though there was no shadow between them. + +Lady Andinnian was growing graver day by day: her very heart seemed to +be withering. That Sir Karl paid his secret visits to the Maze at +night two or three times a week, she knew only too well. One of the +most innocent and naturally unsuspicious persons in the world was she: +but, now that her eyes had been opened, she saw all clearly. Without +watching and tracking the movements of her husband as Miss Blake had +tracked them; in her guileless honour she could never have done that; +Lady Andinnian was only too fully awake now to the nightly strolls +abroad of her husband, and instinct told her for what purpose they +were taken. + +Life for her at this present time seemed very hard to bear. The task +she had imposed on herself--to endure in patience and silence--seemed +well nigh an impracticable one. The daily cross that she had +apportioned herself to take up felt too heavy for mortal frame to +carry. Humiliation, jealousy, love, waged war with each other within +her, and rendered her very wretched. It needed all the good and gentle +and patient principles instilled into her from early childhood, it +needed all the strength she was ever praying for, to hold on +perseveringly in her bitter path, and make no sign. At times she +thought that the silence to which she was condemned must eat away her +heart; but a chance occurrence or two showed her that silence was not +the worst phase she might have to bear. + +On the day after Mrs. Cleeve's arrival, she was upstairs in her +daughter's chamber. Miss Blake was also there. Lucy had come in, hot +and tired, from at afternoon walk to Margaret Sumnor's, and Aglaé had +been summoned to help her to change her silk dress for an unpretending +muslin. + +"I did not know it was so hot before I went out, or I would not have +put on the silk," observed Lucy, "Sitting so quietly with you all the +morning, mamma, in that cool drawing-room, talking of old times, I +forgot the heat." + +Mrs. Cleeve made no particular reply. She was looking about her; +taking silent notice. The doors of communication to the further +chamber stood open, as was usual during the day: Lucy took care of +that, to keep down suspicion in the house of there being any +estrangement between herself and her husband. + +"And you have made this your sleeping room, Lucy, my dear?" observed +Mrs. Cleeve. + +"Yes, mamma." + +"And that further one is Sir Karl's! Well, I'm sure you are getting +quite a fashionable couple--to have separate rooms. I and your papa +never had such a thing in our lives, Lucy." + +Lucy Andinnian grew crimson; as if a flush of the summer heat were +settling in her face. She murmured, in reference to the remarks, some +words about the nights being so very hot, and that she had felt a sort +of fever upon her. The very consciousness of having the truth to +conceal caused her to be more urgent in rendering some plea of excuse. +Aglaé, whose national prejudice had been particularly gratified at the +alteration, and who had lived too long in Mrs. Cleeve's service to +keep in whatever opinion might rise to her tongue's end, hastened to +speak. + +"But, and is it not the most sensible arrangement, madame, that my +lady and Sir Karl could have made, when the summer is like an Afric +summer for the hotness? Mademoiselle here knows that." + +"Don't appeal to me, Aglaé," cried Miss Blake, in a frozen tone. + +"Yes, yes, Aglaé; I say the fashion is coming up in England; and +perhaps it induces to comfort," said Mrs. Cleeve. + +"But certainly. And, as madame sees"--pointing through the little +sitting-room to the further chamber--"it is but like the same chamber. +When Sir Karl is in that and my lady in this, they can look straight +at one another." + +"Aglaé, see to these shoulder-knots," sharply interposed Lady +Andinnian. "You have not put them on evenly." + +"And talk to each other too, if they please," persisted Aglaé, +ignoring the ribbons to uphold her opinion. "Madame ought to see that +the arrangement is good." + +"At any rate, Lucy, I think you should have kept to the large room +yourself, and Sir Karl have come to the smaller one," said Mrs. +Cleeve. + +"It's the very remark I made to my lady," cried Aglaé, turning at +length to regard the ribbons with a critical eye. "But my lady chose +herself this. It is commodious; I say nothing to the contrary; but it +is not as large as the other." + +Oh how Lucy wished they would be silent. Her poor flushed face knew +not where to hide itself; her head and heart were aching with all +kinds of perplexity. Taking up the eau-de-cologne flask, she saturated +her handkerchief and passed it over her brow. + +"Has my lady got ache to her head!" + +"Yes. A little. Alter these ribbons, Aglaé, and let me go." + +"It is because of this marvellous heat," commented Aglaé. "Paris this +summer would not be bearable." + +Aglaé was right in the main; for it was an unusually hot summer. The +intense heat began with Easter, and lasted late into autumn. In one +sense it was favourable to Lucy, for it upheld her given excuse in +regard to the sleeping arrangements. + +Miss Blake had stood all the while with in-drawn lips. It was a habit +of hers to show it in her lips when displeased. Seeing always the +doors open in the day-time, no suspicion of the truth crossed her. She +believed that what she had disclosed to Lucy was no more to her than +the idle wind, once Sir Karl had made good his own false cause. + +A question was running through Miss Blake's mind now--had been in it +more or less since Mrs. Cleeve came: should she, or should she not, +tell that lady what she knew' She had deliberated upon it; she had set +herself to argue the point, for and against; and yet, down deep in her +heart from the first had laid the innate conviction that she should +tell. In the interests of religion and morality, she told herself that +she ought not to keep silence; for the suppression of iniquity and +deceit, she was bound to speak. Had Lucy but taken up the matter +rightly, there would have been no necessity for her to have again +interfered: neither should she have done it. But Lucy had set her +communication at naught: and therefore, in Miss Blake's judgment, the +obligation was laid upon her. Why--how could she, who was only second +to the Rev. Guy Cattacomb in the management and worship at St. +Jerome's, and might have been called his lay curate; who prostrated +herself there in prayer ever so many times a day, to the edification +and example of Foxwood--how could she dare to hold cognizance of a +mine of evil, and not strive to put an end to it, and bring it home to +its enactors? Every time she went to that holy shrine, St. Jerome's, +every time she came back from it, its sacred dust, as may be said, +hallowing her shoes, she had to pass those iniquitous gates, and was +forced into the undesirable thoughts connected with them! + +If Miss Blake had wavered before, she fully made her mind up now; now, +as she stood there in the chamber, the conversation dying away on her +ears. Aglaé was attending to the shoulder-knots; Lucy was passive +under the maid's hands; and Mrs. Cleeve had wandered into the little +intermediate sitting-room. No longer a dressing-room; Lucy had given +it up as such when she changed her chamber. She had some books and +work and her desk there now, and sat there whenever she could. Miss +Blake stood on, gazing from the window and perfecting her resolution. +She thought she was but acting in the strict line of wholesome duty, +just as disinterestedly as the Archbishop of Canterbury might have +done: and she would have been very much shocked had anybody told her +she was only actuated by a desire of taking vengeance on Karl +Andinnian. She wanted to bring home a little confusion to him; she +hoped to see the young lady at the Maze turned out of the village +amidst an escorting flourish of ironical drums and shrieking fifes, +leaving Foxwood Court to its peace. But Miss Blake was in no hurry to +speak: she must watch her opportunity. + +They were engaged to dine the following day at a distance, four or +five miles off; a ball was to follow it. When the time came, Lady +Andinnian, radiant in her white silk bridal dress, entered the +reception-room leaning on the arm of her good-looking husband. Who +could have dreamt that they were living on ill terms, seeing them now? +In public they were both cautiously courteous to each other, observing +every little obligation of society: and in truth Karl at all times, at +home and out, was in manner affectionate to his wife. + +Two carriages had conveyed them: and, in going, Lucy had occupied one +with her father; Karl, Mrs. Cleeve, and Miss Blake the other. Lucy had +intended to return in the same order, but found she could not. Colonel +Cleeve, unconscious of doing wrong, entered the carriage with his wife +and Miss Blake: Lucy and her husband had to sit together. The summer's +night was giving place to dawn. + +"I fear you are tired, Lucy," he kindly said, as they drove off. + +"Yes, very. I wish I was at home." + +She drew her elegant white cloak about her with its silken tassels, +gathered herself into the corner of the carriage, and shut her eyes, +seemingly intending to go to sleep. Sleep! her heart was beating too +wildly for that. But she kept them resolutely closed, making no sign; +and never another word was spoken all the way. Sir Karl helped her +out: the others had already arrived. + +"Good night," she whispered to him, preparing to run up the stairs. + +"Good night, Lucy." + +But, in spite of Lady Andinnian's efforts to make the best of things +and show no sign, a mother's eye could not be deceived; and before +Mrs. Cleeve had been many days in the house, she was struck with the +underlying aspect of sadness that seemed to pervade Lucy. Her +cheerfulness appeared to be often forced; this hidden sadness was +real. Unsuspecting Mrs. Cleeve could come to but one conclusion--her +daughter's health must be deranged. + +"Since when have you not felt well, Lucy?" she asked her +confidentially one day, when they were alone in Lucy's little +sitting-room. + +Lucy, buried in a reverie, woke up with a start at the question. "I am +very well, mamma. Why should you think I am not?" + +"Your spirits are unequal, Lucy, and you certainly do not look well; +neither do you eat as you ought. My dear, I think--I hope--there must +be a cause for it." + +"What cause?" returned Lucy, not taking her meaning. + +"We should be so pleased to welcome a little heir, my dear. Is it so?" + +Lucy--she had just dressed for dinner, and dismissed Aglaé--coloured +painfully. Mrs. Cleeve smiled. + +"No, mamma, I think there is no cause of that kind," she answered, in +a low, nervous tone. And only herself knew the bitter pang that +pierced her as she remembered how certain it was that there could be +no such cause for the future. + +But Mrs. Cleeve held to her own private opinion. "The child is shy in +these early days, even with me," she thought. "I'll say no more." + +One morning during this time, Karl was sitting alone in his room, when +Hewitt came to him to say Smith the agent was asking to see him. Karl +did not like Smith the agent: he doubted, dreaded, and did not +comprehend him. + +"Will you see him, sir?" asked Hewitt, in a low tone, perceiving the +lines on his master's brow. + +"I suppose I must see him, Hewitt," was the reply--and the +confidential, faithful servant well understood the force of the must. +"Show him in." + +"Beg pardon for disturbing you so early, Sir Karl," said the agent, as +Hewitt brought him in and placed a chair. "There's one of your small +tenants dropping into a mess, I fancy. He has got the brokers in for +taxes, or something of that kind. I thought I'd better let you know at +once." + +Hewitt shut the door, and Karl pushed away the old letters he had been +sorting. Sir Joseph's papers and effects had never been examined yet; +but Karl was settling to the work now. That Mr. Smith had spoken in an +unusually loud and careless tone, he noticed: and therefore judged +that this was but the ostensible plea for his calling, given lest any +ears should be about. + +"Which of my tenants is it, Mr. Smith!" he quietly asked. + +Mr. Smith looked round to be sure that the door was closed, and then +asked Sir Karl if he'd mind having the window shut; he felt a bit of a +draught. And he shut the glass doors himself with his one hand, before +Karl could assent to the proposal, or rise to do it himself. + +"It is Seaford the miller," he answered. "And"--dropping his voice to +the lowest and most cautious tone--"it is a fact that he has the +brokers in for some arrears of Queen's rates. But the man has +satisfied me that it is but a temporary embarrassment; and I think, +Sir Karl, your rent is in no danger. Still it was right that you +should know of it; and it has served, just in the nick of time, to +account for my object in coming." + +"What is the real object?" inquired Karl, in a voice as cautious as +the other voice. + +Mr. Smith took a newspaper out of the pocket of his light summer coat; +borrowed his disabled hand from the sling to help unfold it, and then, +pointed to a small paragraph. It ran as follows:-- + + +"Curious rumours are afloat connected with a recorded attempt at +escape from Portland Island, in which the unfortunate malefactor met +his death. A mysterious whisper has arisen, we know not how or whence, +that the death was but a fiction, and that the man is at large." + + +"What paper is it?" cried Karl, trying to force some colour into his +white lips. + +"Only one in which all kinds of stories are got up," rejoined +Mr. Smith, showing the title of a sensational weekly paper. "The +paragraph may have resulted from nothing but the imagination of some +penny-a-liner, Sir Karl, at fault for real matter." + +"I don't like it," observed Karl, after a pause. "Assume that it may +be as you suggest, and nothing more, this very announcement will be +the means of drawing people's thoughts towards it." + +"Not it," spoke Mr. Smith. "And if it does?--nobody will think it +points to Sir Adam Andinnian. Another prisoner has been killed since +then, trying to escape." + +"How do you know that?" + +"I _do_ know it," replied Mr. Smith, emphatically. But he advanced no +further proof. "It was a curious thing, my getting this paper," he +continued. "Yesterday I was over at Basham, mistook the time of the +returning train, and found when I reached the station that I had to +wait three-quarters of an hour. The only newspapers on the stand were +these weekly ones; I bought this to while away the time, and saw the +paragraph." + +"These events, looked upon as chances and errors, are in reality +ordained," spoke Karl dreamily. "What can be done, Mr. Smith?" + +"Nothing; nothing, Sir Karl. There's nothing to do. He is safe enough +where he is--even if the rumour did come to be looked into by the +law's authorities. Rely upon it, the Maze will never be suspected." + +"I wish to heaven he had never come to the Maze!" was Karl Andinnian's +pained rejoinder. + +"It might be better on the whole that he had not," acknowledged Mr. +Smith. "The plan originated with himself and with the late Mrs. +Andinnian--and they carried it out." + +"I wish," said Karl, speaking upon sudden impulse, "that you would +allow me to know how you became connected with this affair of my +unfortunate brother--and what you still have to do with it." + +"How I became connected with it does not signify," was the short and +ready answer. "As to what I have to do with it still, you know as well +as I. I just watch over him--or rather the place that contains him-- +and if danger should arise I shall be at hand to, I hope, give him +warning and to protect him from it." + +"He ought to be got away from the Maze," persisted Karl. + +"He'd never get away in safety. Especially if there's anything in +this"--striking his hand on the newspaper paragraph. "With my consent, +he will never try to." + +Karl did not answer; but he thought the more. That this man was the +true impediment to his brother's escape; that he was in fact keeping +him where he was, he believed with his whole heart. Once Sir Adam +could be safe away from the kingdom, Mr. Smith no doubt foresaw that +he might no longer enjoy Clematis Cottage to live in, or the handsome +sum which he received quarterly. A sum that Mrs. Andinnian had +commenced to pay, and Karl did not dare to discontinue. The words were +but a confirmation of his opinion. Mr. Smith was Adam's enemy, not +friend; he was keeping him there for his own self-interest: and Karl +feared that if Adam attempted to get away in spite of him, he might in +revenge deliver him up to justice. In dangers of this secret kind, +fear has no limit. + +"He could not be as safe anywhere in England as here," concluded Mr. +Smith, as if he divined Karl's thoughts. "The police would suspect +every hole and corner of the country, every town, little and big, +before they would suspect his own home. As to the sailing away for +another land, the danger of his recognition would be too great both on +the voyage and on embarking for it, for him to dare it. He'd be +discovered as sure as apple-trees grow apples." + +"Will it be better to tell him of this!" cried Karl, alluding to the +newspaper. + +"I think not. Just as you please, though, Sir Karl. Rely upon it, it +is only what I suggest--an emanation from some penny-a-liner's +inventive brain." + +"The paper had better be burnt," suggested Karl. + +"The very instant I get home," said Mr. Smith, putting the paper in +his pocket and taking his hat from the table. "I wish I could burn the +whole impression--already gone forth to the world. I'll go out this +way, Sir Karl, if you will allow me." + +Opening the glass doors again, he stepped across the terrace to the +lawn, talking still, as though continuing the conversation. Other +windows stood open, and the agent was cautious. + +"I'll be sure to see Seaford in the course of the day. You may trust +to me not to let any of them get behind-hand with their rents. Good +morning, Sir Karl." + +The agent, however, did not turn into his house. Deep in thought, he +strolled on, up the road, his free hand in his light coat pocket, his +head bent in meditation. He wished he could obtain some little light +as to this mysterious announcement; he fancied he might be able to. On +he strolled, unthinkingly, until he came to St. Jerome's, the entrance +door of which edifice was ajar. + +"Holding one of their services," thought the agent. "I'll have a look +in, and see Cattacomb surrounded by his flock of lambs." + +Mr. Smith was disappointed: for the reverend gentleman was not there. +It appeared to be the hour for cleaning the room, instead of one for +holding service. Four or five young ladies, their gowns turned up +round their waists and some old gloves on, were dusting, sweeping, and +brushing with all their might and main; Miss Blake presiding as high +priestess of the ceremonies. + +"They'd not do such a thing in their own homes to save their lives," +laughed the agent, coming softly out again unseen. "Cattacomb must be +in clover among 'em!" + +He went home then, looked attentively once more at the alarming +paragraph, and burnt the newspaper. After that, he paced his little +garden, as if in a fit of restlessness, and then leaned over the gate, +lost in reflection. The trees of the Maze were perfectly still in the +hot summer air; the road was dusty and not a single passenger to be +seen on it. + +A few minutes, and footsteps broke upon his ear. They were Miss +Blake's, bringing her home from St. Jerome's. She stopped to shake +hands. + +"Well," said he, with a laugh, "all the scrubbing done?" + +"How do you know anything about the scrubbing?" returned Miss Blake. + +"I looked in just now, and saw you all at it, dusting and brushing, +and thought what an enviable young priest that Cattacomb must be. Now, +my lad! don't ride over us if you can help it." + +The very same butcher-boy, in the same blue frock, had come galloping +up to the Maze gate, rung the bell, and was now prancing backwards +across the road on his horse, which was very restive. Something +appeared to have startled the animal; and it was to the boy the last +remark had been addressed. Miss Blake stepped inside the garden gate, +held open for her--for the horse seemed to think the path his own +ground as well as the highway. + +"He have been shoed this morning, and he's always in this dratted +temper after it," spoke the boy gratuitously. + +The woman-servant came out with her dish, received some meat, and +disappeared again, taking care to lock the gate after her. She had +never left it unlocked since the unlucky day when Miss Blake got in. +Glancing over the road, she saw the lady and the agent watching her, +and no doubt recognized the former. + +"Looks like a faithful servant, that," remarked Mr. Smith. + +"Faithful," echoed Miss Blake--"well yes, she does. But to what a +mistress! Fidelity to such a person does her no credit." + +Mr. Smith turned as grave as a judge. "Hush!" said he, impressively. +"Unless one has sure and good ground to go upon, it is better not to +assume evil." + +"No ground was ever surer than this." + +"My dear young lady, you may be utterly mistaken." + +She liked the style of address from him--my dear _young_ lady: it +flattered her vanity. But she would not give way. + +"I have seen what I have seen, Mr. Smith. Sir Karl Andinnian would not +be stealing in there at night, if it were proper for him to be going +in the open day." + +"Never speak of it," cried Mr. Smith, his tone one of sharp, strong +command. "What could you prove? I ask, Miss Blake, what you could +prove--if put to it?" + +She did not answer. + +"Why, nothing, madam. Absolutely _nothing_. How could you?" + +Miss Blake considered. "I think there's a good deal of negative +proof," she said, at length. + +"Moonshine," cried Mr. Smith. "Negative proof in a case of this kind +always is moonshine. Listen, my dear Miss Blake, for I am advising you +now as a good friend. Never breathe a word of this matter to living +soul. You don't know what the consequences to yourself might be." + +"Consequences to myself!" + +"To yourself, of course: there's no one else in question--at least in +my mind. You might be sued for libel, and get sentenced to pay heavy +damages and to a term of imprisonment besides. For goodness sake, be +cautious! Remember Jane Shore! She had to stand in the pillory in a +white sheet in the face and eyes of a gaping multitude, a lighted +taper in her hand." + +"Jane Shore!" cried Miss Blake, who at the above suggestion had begun +to go as pale as she could well go. "Jane Shore! But that was not for +libel. It was for--for--" + +Miss Blake broke down. + +"Shoreditch is named after her, you know," put in Mr. Smith. "Poor +thing! she was very lovely: raven hair and eyes of a violet blue, say +the old chronicles. Keep your own counsel, young lady, implicitly--and +be silent for your own sake." + +Miss Blake said good morning, and walked away. The prospect suggested +to her, as to the fine and imprisonment, looked anything but a +pleasant one. She resolved henceforth to _be_ silent; to Mrs. Cleeve +and to all else: and, under the influence of this new and disagreeable +suggestion, she wished to her heart she had never opened her lips to +Lady Andinnian. + +"Meddlesome tabby cat," aspirated the gallant Mr. Smith. "She might +play up Old Beans with her tongue. Women are the very deuce for being +ill-natured to one another." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +A Night Alarm. + + +Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve had departed again, and the time went on. +Foxwood Court was comparatively quiet. The opening visits on all sides +had been paid and returned, and there was a lull in the dinner +parties. The weather continued most intensely hot; and people were +glad to be still. + +Never had poor Lucy Andinnian felt the estrangement from her husband +so cruelly as now. At first the excitement of resentment had kept her +up, and the sojourn of her father and mother, together with the almost +daily gaiety, had served to take her out of herself: it was only at +night during the lonely hours, when trouble prevented sleep, that she +had felt its keenest sting. But now: now when she and Karl were alone, +save for Miss Blake: when she sat in her lonely room hour after hour, +and had leisure to realize her true position, Lucy gave way to all the +abandonment of grief her trial brought. It was indeed a bitter one; a +fiery trial: and when she looked back to it in after days, she could +never imagine how she had contrived to bear it. + +Love is an all-powerful master: an overfilling tyrant. In the first +torments of awakened jealousy, it is all very well to take refuge in +revengeful anger, and snap our fingers metaphorically at the beloved +one, and say he may go promener. The reaction comes. Jealousy, alas, +does not tend to extinguish love, but rather to increase it. Lucy +Andinnian found it so to her cost. Her love for Karl had in no whit +abated: and the very fact of knowing he paid these stolen night visits +to the Maze, while it tortured her jealousy, in no way diminished her +love. She was growing pale and thin; she questioned whether she had +done wisely in undertaking this most cruel task of bearing in silence +and patience, hoping it might bring him back to his true allegiance; +for she knew not whether she could endure on to the end. + +There were moments when in her desolation she almost wished she was +reconciled to her husband on any terms, even to the extent of +condoning the wrong and the evil. The strict reader must pardon her, +for she was very desolate. The idea always went away at once, and she +would arouse herself with a shiver. Perhaps, of all phases of the +affair, the one that told most upon her, that she felt to be more +humiliating than the rest, was the fact of its having been brought +close to her home, to its very gates: and a thousand times she asked +herself the ambiguous question--Why could not Sir Karl rid the Maze of +its inmates, and convey them to a distance? + +She might have schooled her heart to care for Karl less had they been +separated: he at the North Pole, say: she at the South. But they were +living under the same roof, and met hourly. They went to church +together, and paid visits with each other, and sat at the same +breakfast and dinner tables. For their public intercourse was so +conducted that no suspicion of the truth should get abroad, within +doors or without. As to Karl, he was waiting on his side with what +patience he might until his wife's mood should alter; in fact, he had +no other alternative; but he treated her with the most anxious +kindness and consideration. That she had taken the matter up with +unjustifiable harshness, he thought; but he excused it, knowing +himself to be the real culprit for having married her. And thus they +went on; Lucy's spirit wounded to the core, and her anguished heart +pining for the love that she believed was not hers. + +She was sitting one Saturday evening under the acacia tree, in the +delicate muslin she had worn in the day, when Karl came down from his +dressing-room ready for dinner, and crossed the lawn to her. He had +been to Basham, and she had not seen him since the morning. + +"You are very pale, Lucy." + +"My head aches badly: and it was so pleasant to remain here in the +cool that I did not go in to dress," she said to him in a tone of +apology. + +"And why should you?" returned Karl. "That is as pretty a dress as any +you have. What has given you the headache?" + +"I--always have it now, more or less," had been on the tip of her +tongue; but she broke off in time. "The heat, I think. I got very hot +to-day, walking to Margaret Sumnor's." + +"It is too hot for walking, Lucy. You should take the carriage." + +"I don't like the parade of the carriage when I go to Margaret's." + +"Would you like a little pony-chaise? I will buy you one if you----" + +"No, thank you," she interrupted hastily, her tone a cold one. "I +prefer to walk when I go about Foxwood. The heat will pass away +sometime." + +"You were saying the other day, Lucy, to some one who called, that you +would like to read that new book on the Laplanders. I have been +getting it for you." + +He had a white paper parcel in his hand, undid it, and gave her a +handsomely-bound volume. She felt the kindness, and her sad face +flushed slightly. + +"Thank you; thank you very much. It was good of you to think of me." + +"And I have been subscribing to the Basham library, Lucy, and brought +home the first parcel of books. It may amuse you to read them." + +"Yes, I think it will. Thank you, Sir Karl." + +She had never called him "Karl" when they were alone, since the +explosion. Now and then occasionally before people, she did, +especially before her father and mother. But he understood quite well +that it was only done for appearance' sake. + +The dinner hour was at hand, and they went in. Very much to the +surprise of both, Mr. Cattacomb was in the drawing-room with Miss +Blake. Lucy had neither heard nor seen him: but the acacia tree was +out of sight of the front entrance. + +"I have been telling Mr. Cattacomb--he came to me in the heat, on +business of St. Jerome's--that you will be charitable enough to give +him some dinner," said Miss Blake, introducing Mr. Cattacomb to Sir +Karl in form--for it was the first time he had met that reverend man. +Of course Karl could only return a civil answer; but he had not been +at all anxious for the acquaintanceship of Mr. Cattacomb, and was +determined not to treat him precisely as though he had been an invited +guest. + +"I think you may perhaps prefer to take in your friend Miss Blake, as +Lady Andinnian is a stranger to you," he said, when Hewitt announced +dinner. "We are not on ceremony now." + +And Sir Karl caught his wife's hand within his. "I was not going to +leave you to _him_, Lucy," he whispered. + +So they went parading in to dinner arm-in-arm, this estranged man and +wife, brushing past Hewitt and the tall new footman, who wore powdered +hair. + +"It is just as though he did care for me!" thought Lucy, glancing at +her husband as he placed her in her seat at the table's head. + +Mr. Cattacomb and Miss Blake, seated opposite each other, talked a +great deal, Karl scarcely at all. When alone, the dinners at the Court +were simply served, Sir Karl carving. He was attentive to his +impromptu guest, and sent him of the best: but he thought he had never +in all his life been in company with so affected and vain a man as +that belauded clergyman. Once, with the fish before him, Karl fell +into a reverie. He woke up with a start, looking about him like a man +bewildered. + +"Some more fish, Lucy, my darling?" + +Lucy's plate had gone away long before. They all saw that he had been, +so to speak, unconscious of what he said. He rallied then; and did not +lose himself again. + +Dinner over, Mr. Cattacomb, making an apology, hurried away for some +slight service at St. Jerome's, Miss Blake accompanying him as a +matter of course. Lucy disappeared: and Karl, thus abandoned, went to +his smoking-room. Not to smoke; but to muse upon the acute angles of +his position--as he was too much given to do. Karl Andinnian was as a +man in a net: as things looked at present, there seemed to be no +chance of freedom from it, no hope of it at present or in the future. +And his ill-fated brother again! The past night he, Karl, had dreamt +one of those ugly dreams. He thought he saw Adam fleeing from his +pursuers; a number of them, and they all looked like warders of +Portland Prison. Panting, crying, Adam rushed in, seized hold of Karl, +and begged him, as he valued salvation hereafter, to hide and save +him. But the warders burst in and surrounded them. Poor Karl woke up +as usual in fright and agony. This dream had been recurring to his +mind all day: it was very vivid now in the silent evening hour after +sunset. + +"I'd give my life to place him in safety," ran his thoughts. "Not much +of a gift, either, for I verily believe this constant, distressing +suspense will kill me. If he were but safe in some distant land! He +might--Why, what is Lucy doing?" + +Opposite this south window there was a beautiful vista through the +trees of the grounds beyond. Sir Karl had seen his wife running +swiftly from one walk to another, and suddenly stoop--as he fancied. +Looking still, he found she did not get up again. + +"She must have fallen," he exclaimed, and rushed out. + +He was with her in a minute. She was getting up after her fall, but +her ankle felt intolerably painful. Karl was very tender: he had her +in his arms, and took her to a leafy arbour close by. There he put her +to sit down, and held her to him for support. + +"I have twisted my ankle," she said. "It's nothing." + +But the tears of pain stood in her eyes. He soothed her as he would +have soothed her in the bygone days; holding her in his firm +protection, whispering terms of sweet endearment. What with the +ankle's sharp twinges, what with his loving words, and what with her +chronic state of utter wretchedness, poor Lucy burst into sobs, and +sobbed them out upon his breast. + +"My darling! The ankle is giving you pain." + +"The ankle's nothing," she said. "It will soon be well." But she lay +there still and sobbed pitiably. He waited in silence until she should +grow calmer, his arm round her. A distant nightingale was singing its +love-song. + +"Lucy," began Karl, then, "I would ask you--now that we seem to be for +the moment alone with the world and each other--whether there is any +_sense_ in living in the way we do? Is there any happiness for either +of us? I want you to forgive all, and be reconciled: I want you to see +the matter in its proper light, apart from prejudice. The past is past +and cannot be recalled: but it leaves no just reason in the sight of +God or man for our living in estrangement." + +Her head was hidden against him still. She did not lift her eyes as +she whispered her answer. + +"Is there no reason for it now, Karl? Now, at the present time. None?" + +"No. As I see it, NO; on my word of honour as a gentleman. The notion +you have taken up is an unsound and utterly mistaken one. You had +grave cause to complain: granted: to resent; I admit it all: but +surely it was not enough to justify the rending asunder of man and +wife. The past cannot be undone--Heaven knows I would undo it if I +could. But there is no just cause for your visiting the future upon me +in this way, and making us both pay a heavy penalty. Won't you forgive +and forget? Won't you be my own dear wife again? Oh, Lucy, I am full +of trouble, and I want your sympathy to lighten it." + +Her whole heart yearned to him. He drew her face to his and kissed her +lips with the sweetest kisses. In the bliss and rest that the +reconciliation brought to her spirit, Lucy momentarily forgot all +else. Her kisses met his; her tears wet his cheeks. What with one +emotion and another--pain, anguish, grief and bliss, the latter +uppermost--poor Lucy felt faint. The bitter past was effaced from her +memory: the change seemed like a glimpse of Paradise. It all passed in +a moment, or so, of time. + +"Oh, Karl, I should like to be your wife again!" she confessed. "The +estrangement we are living in is more cruel for me than for you. Shall +it be so?" + +"Shall it!" repeated Karl. "Is there need to ask me, Lucy?" + +"It lies with you." + +"With me! Why, how? How does it lie with me? You know, my darling----" + +A slight ruffle, as if some one were brushing past the shrubs in the +opposite path, caused Sir Karl to withdraw his arm from his wife. Miss +Blake came up: a note in her hand. Sir Karl politely, in thought, +wished Miss Blake at York. + +"As I was coming in, Sir Karl, I overtook a woman with this note, +which she was bringing you. It was the servant at the Maze--or some +one very like her." + +Miss Blake looked full at Sir Karl as she spoke, wishing no doubt that +looks were daggers. She had added the little bit of information, as to +the messenger, for Lucy's especial benefit. Karl thanked her coolly, +and crushed the note, unopened, into his pocket. Lucy, shy, timid +Lucy, was limping away. Miss Blake saw something was wrong and held +out her arm. + +"What is the matter, Lucy? You are in pain! You have been crying!" + +"I slipped and hurt my ankle, Theresa. It was foolish to cry, though. +The pain is much less already." + +Miss Blake helped her indoors in lofty silence. Anything like the +contempt she felt for the weakness of Lucy Andinnian, she perhaps had +never felt for any one before in all her life. Not for the weakness of +crying at a hurt: though that was more befitting a child than a woman: +but for the reprehensible weakness she was guilty of in living on +terms of affection with her husband. "Must even sit in a garden arbour +together hand in hand, listening to the nightingales," shrieked Miss +Blake mentally, with rising hair. "And yet--she knows what I disclosed +to her!" + +The note was from Mrs. Grey. Had Miss Blake herself presided at its +opening, she could not reasonably have found fault with it. Mrs. Grey +presented her compliments to Sir Karl Andinnian, and would feel +obliged by his calling to see her as soon as convenient, as she wished +to speak with him on a little matter of business concerning the house. + +There was nothing more. But Karl knew, by the fact of her venturing on +the extreme step of writing to the Court, that he was wanted at the +Maze for something urgent. It was several days since he had been +there: for he could not divest himself of the feeling that some one of +these nightly visits of his, more unlucky than the rest, might bring +on suspicion and betrayal. To his uneasy mind there was danger in +every surrounding object. The very sound of the wind in the trees +seemed to whisper it to him as he passed; hovering shades of phantom +shape glanced out to his fancy from the hedges. + +He stayed a short while pacing his garden, and then went indoors. It +was getting dusk. Miss Blake had her things off and was alone in the +drawing-room. The tea waited on the table. + +"Where's Lucy?" he asked. + +"She went to her room to have her ankle seen to. I would have done +anything for her, but she declined my services." + +Karl knocked at his wife's little sitting-room door, and entered. She +was leaning on the window-sill, and said her ankle felt much better +after the warm water, and since Aglaé had bound it up. Karl took her +hand. + +"We were interrupted, Lucy, when I was asking an important question," +he began--"for indeed I think I must have misunderstood you. How does +the putting an end to our estrangement lie with me?" + +"It does lie with you, Karl," she answered, speaking feelingly and +pleasantly, not in the cold tone of reserve she had of late maintained +when they were alone. "The estrangement is miserable for me; you say +it is for you; and the efforts we have to make, to keep up the farce +before the household and the world, make it doubly miserable for both +of us. We cannot undo our marriage: but to continue to live as we are +living is most unsatisfactory and deplorable." + +"But it is you who insisted on living so, Lucy--to my surprise and +pain." + +"Could I do otherwise?" she rejoined. "It is a most unhappy business +altogether: and at times I am tempted to wish that it had been always +kept from me. As you say--and I am willing to believe you, and do +believe you--the past is past: but you know how much of the +consequences remain. It seems to me that I must give way a little: +perhaps, having taken my vows as your wife, it may be what I ought to +do; a duty even in God's sight." + +"Do you recollect your words to me on the eve of our wedding-day, +Lucy, when I was speaking of the possibility that a deeper blow might +fall: one that would dishonour us both in the world's eyes, myself +primarily, you through me, and cause you to repent of our union? You +should never repent, you said; you took me for richer for poorer, for +better or for worse." + +"But I did not know the blow would be of this kind," murmured Lucy. +"Still, I will do as you wish me--forget and forgive. At least if I +cannot literally forget, for that would not be practicable, it shall +be as though I did, for I will never allude to it by word or deed. +That will be my concession, Karl. You must make one on your side." + +"Willingly. What is it?" + +"Clear the Maze immediately of its tenants." + +He gave a slight start, knitting his brow. Lucy saw the proposal was +unpalatable. + +"Their being there is an insult to me, Karl," she softly said, as if +beseeching the boon. "You must get them away." + +"I cannot, Lucy," he answered, his face wrung with pain. "I wish I +could! Don't you understand that I have no control over this?" + +"I think I understand," she said, her manner growing cold. "You have +said as much before. Why can you not? It seems to me, if things be as +you intimate, that the matter would be easily accomplished. You need +only show firmness." + +He thought haw little she understood. But he could not bear to enlarge +upon it, and said nothing. + +"There are houses enough, and to spare, in the world, Karl." + +"Plenty of them." + +"Then why not let the Maze be left?" + +"More things than one are against it, Lucy. There are wheels within +wheels," he added, thinking of Smith the mysterious agent. "One great +element against it is the risk--the danger." + +"Danger of exposure, do you mean?" + +"Of discovery. Yes." + +Never had Karl Andinnian and his wife been so near coming to an +enlightenment on the misunderstanding that lay between them and their +peace. It passed off--just as many another good word passes off, +unsaid, in life. + +"My hands are tied, Lucy. If wishing the Maze empty would effect it, +it would be vacant to-morrow. I can do nothing." + +"I understand," she said bitterly, even as she had said once before, +all the old resentful indignation rising up within her. "I understand, +Sir Karl. There are complications, entanglements; and you cannot free +yourself from them." + +"Precisely so." + +"_Is_ the sin of the past?" she asked with flashing eyes and a rising +colour; her voice betraying her frame of mind. He gazed at her, unable +to understand. + +"Why of course it is past, Lucy. What can you mean?" + +"Oh, you know, you know. Never mind. We must go on again as we have +been going on." + +"No, Lucy." + +"YES, Sir Karl. As long as those people remain in the Maze, tacitly to +insult me, I will never be more to you than I am now." + +It was a strangely harsh decision; and one he could not account for. +He asked for her reasons in detail, but she would not give any. All +she said further was, that if he felt dissatisfied, she could--and +should--seek the protection of her father and declare the truth. + +So they parted again as they had parted before. Hemmed in on all +sides, afraid to move an inch to the left or the right, Karl could +only submit; he could do nothing. + +"I was charged by Miss Blake to tell you that tea is ready," he said, +turning on his heel to quit the room. + +"Ask her to send me a cup by Aglaé, please. I shall stay here to rest +my ankle." And as Karl closed the door upon her, poor Lucy burst into +a flood of tears, and sobbed as though her heart would break. +Underlying all else in her mind was a keen sense of insult, of slight, +of humiliation: and she asked herself whether she ought to bear it. + + +Pacing the gravel path round the trees of the Maze after dark had +fallen--as much dark as a summer's night ever gives us--were Karl +Andinnian and Mrs. Grey. She, expecting him, went to wait for him just +within the gate: as she did the evening Miss Blake had the +satisfaction of watching and seeing. It was a still, hot night, and +Mrs. Grey proposed that they should walk round the outer circle once, +before going in: for she had things to say to him. + +"Why have you 'kept away these last few days, Karl?" she asked, taking +the arm he offered her. "Adam has been so vexed and impatient over it: +but I should not have ventured to write to you for only that--I hope +you were not angry with me." + +He told her he was not angry. He told her why he had kept away--that +an instinct warned him it might be imprudent to come in too often. It +seemed to him, he added, that the very hedges had eyes to watch him. +She shivered a little, as though some chill of damp had struck her; +and proceeded to relate what she had to say. + +By a somewhat singular coincidence, a copy of the same newspaper that +contained the mysterious paragraph had been bought at the little +newsvendor's in Foxwood by Ann Hopley, who was fond of reading the +news when her day's work was over. She saw the paragraph, took alarm, +and showed it to her master and mistress. + +"It has nearly frightened me to death, Karl," said Mrs. Grey. "The +paper was a week old when Ann bought it: and I am glad it was, or I +should have been living upon thorns longer than I have been." + +He told her that he had seen it. And he did what he could to reassure +her, saying it was probably but an unmeaning assertion, put in from +dearth of news. + +"That is just what Mr. Smith says," she replied. "He thinks it is from +the brain of some poor penny-a-liner." + +"Mr. Smith!" exclaimed Karl. "How do you know?" + +"Adam would see him about it, and I sent for him. He, Smith, says +there's nothing for it now but staying here; and Adam seems to be of +the same opinion." + +"Were you present at their interview?" + +"No. I never am. The man is keeping us here for purposes of his own. I +feel sure of it. He has been a good friend to us in many ways: I don't +know what we should have done without him; but it is his fault that we +are staying on here." + +"Undoubtedly it is." + +"Adam is just as careless and gay as ever in manner, but I think the +announcement in the newspaper has made him secretly uneasy. He is not +well to-night." + +"What is the matter with him?" + +"It is some inward pain: he has complained of it more than once +lately. And he has been angry and impatient of an evening because you +did not come. It is so lonely for him, you know." + +"I do know it, Rose. Nothing brings me here at all but that." + +"It was he who at last made me write to you to-day. I was not sorry to +do it, for I had wanted to see you myself and to talk to you. I think +I have discovered something that may be useful; at least that we may +turn to use. First of all--Do you remember a year or two ago there was +a public stir about one Philip Salter?" + +"No. Who is Philip Salter?" + +"Philip Salter committed a great crime: forgery, I think: and he +escaped from the hands of the police as they were bringing him to +London by rail. I have nearly a perfect recollection of it," continued +Mrs. Grey, "for my uncle and aunt took great interest in it, because +they knew one of the people whom Salter had defrauded. He was never +retaken. At least, I never heard of it." + +"How long ago was this?" + +"More than two years. It was in spring-time, I think." + +Karl Andinnian threw his recollection back. The name, Philip Salter, +certainly seemed to begin to strike on some remote chord of his +memory; but he had completely forgotten its associations. + +"What of him, Rose?" he asked. + +"This," she answered, her voice taking even a lower tone: "I should +not be surprised if this Mr. Smith is the escaped man, Philip Salter! +I think he may be." + +"This man, Smith, Philip Salter!" exclaimed Karl. "But what grounds +have you for thinking it?" + +"I will tell you. When Mr. Smith came over a day or two ago, it was in +the evening, growing dusk. Adam saw him in the upstairs room. They +stood at the window--perhaps for the sake of the light, and seemed to +be looking over some memorandum paper. I was walking about outside, +and saw them. All at once something fell down from the window. I ran +to pick it up, and found it was a pocket-book, lying open. Mr. Smith +shouted out, 'Don't touch it, Mrs. Grey: don't trouble yourself,' and +came rushing down the stairs. But I had picked it up, Karl; and I saw +written inside it the name, Philip Salter. Without the least intention +or thought of prying, I saw it: 'Philip Salter.' Mr. Smith was up with +me the next moment, and I gave him the pocket-book, closed:" + +"His Christian name is certainly Philip," observed Karl after a pause +of thought. "I have seen his signature to receipts for rent--'Philip +Smith.' This is a strange thing, Rose." + +"Yes--if it be true. While he is planted here, spying upon Adam, he +may be hiding from justice himself, a criminal." + +Karl was in deep thought. "Was the name in the pocket-book on the +fly-leaf, Rose--as though it were the owner's name?" + +"I think so, but I cannot be sure. It was at the top of a leaf +certainly. If we could but find it out--find that it is so, it might +prove to be a way of release from him," she added; "I mean some way or +other of release might come of it. Oh, and think of the blessing of +feeling free! I am sure that, but for him, Adam would contrive to +escape to a safer land." + +There was no time to say more. The night was drawing on, and Karl had +to go in to his impatient brother. Impatient! What should we have been +in his place? Poor Adam Andinnian! In his banned, hidden, solitary +days, what interlude had he to look forward to but these occasional +visits from Karl? + +"I will think it over, Rose, and try and find something out," said +Karl as they went in. "Have you told Adam?" + +"No. He is so hot and impulsive, you know. I thought it best to speak +to you first." + +"Quite right. Say nothing to him at present." + +In quitting the Maze that evening, Adam, in spite of all Karl could +say or do, would walk with him to the gate: only laughing when Karl +called it dangerous recklessness. There were moments when the same +doubt crossed Karl's mind that had been once suggested to him by Mr. +Plunkett--Was Adam always and altogether sane? This moment, was one. +He absolutely stood at the gate, talking and laughing in an undertone, +as Karl went through it. + +"Rubbish, Karlo, old fellow," said he to the last remonstrance. "It's +a dark night, and not a soul within miles of us. Besides, who knows me +here?" + +Karl had locked the gate and was putting the key in his pocket, when a +sound smote his ear and he turned it to listen. The tramp, tramp, as +of policemen walking with measured steps was heard, coming from the +direction of the railway-station, and with it the scuffle and hum of a +besetting crowd. It brought into his mind with a rush and a whirl that +fatal night some twelve months before, when he had heard the tramp of +policemen on the other side the hedge--and their prisoner, though he +knew it not, was his brother, Adam Andinnian. + +"Adam, do you hear!" he cried hoarsely. "For the love of heaven, hide +yourself." And Sir Adam disappeared in the Maze. + +What with the past recollection, what with his brother's near +presence, what with the approach of these police--as he took them to +be--what with the apprehension ever overlying his heart, Karl was +seized with a panic of terror. Were they coming in search of Adam? He +thought so: and all the agony that he often went over in his dreams, +he suffered now in waking reality. The hubbub of exposure; the public +disgrace; the renewed hard life for him at Portland Island; even +perhaps--Karl's imagination was vivid just then--the scaffold in the +distance as an ending! These visions surging through his brain, Karl +flew to the other side of the road--lest his being on the side of the +Maze might bring suspicion on it--and then walked quietly to his own +entrance gates. There he stood, and turned to await the event, his +head beating, his pulses leaping. + +With a relief that no tongue could express, Karl saw them pass the +Maze and come onwards. Presently, in the night's imperfect light, he +distinguished a kind of covered stretcher, or hand-barrow, borne by a +policeman and other men, a small mob following. + +"Is anything amiss!" he asked, taking a few steps into the road, and +speaking in the quietest tones he could just then command. + +"It's poor Whittle, Sir Karl," replied the policeman--who knew him. +There were a few scattered cottages skirting the wood beyond the +Court, and Karl recognized the name, Whittle, as that of a man who +lived in one of them and worked at the railway-station. + +"Is he ill?" asked Karl. + +"He is dead, Sir Karl. He was missed from his work in the middle of +the afternoon and not found till an hour ago: there he was, stretched +out in the field, dead. We got Mr. Moore round, and he thinks it must +have been a sun-stroke." + +"What a sad thing!" cried Karl, in his pitying accents. "Does his wife +know?" + +"We've sent on to prepare her, poor woman! There's four or five little +children, Sir Karl, more's the pity!" + +"Ay; I know there are some. Tell her I will come in and see her in the +morning." + +A murmur of approbation at the last words arose from the bystanders. +It seemed to them an earnest that the new baronet, Sir Karl, would +turn out to be a kind and considerate man; as good for them perhaps as +Sir Joseph had been. + +He listened to the tramp, tramp, until it had died away, and then +turned in home with all his trouble and care: determined to search the +newspapers--filed by Sir Joseph--before he went to rest, for some +particulars of this Philip Salter. + +"Oh that Adam were but safe in some less dangerous land!" was the +refrain, ever eating itself into his brain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +In the same Train. + + +"You must step out sharp, Sir Karl. The train is on the move." + +Sir Karl Andinnian had gone hastening into the railway-station, late, +on Monday morning, to catch the eleven o'clock train, and was taking a +ticket for London. It was the station-master who had addressed him, as +he handed him his ticket. One of the porters held open the door of a +first-class compartment, and Sir Karl jumped in. + +A lady was gathered into the corner beyond him, her veil down: there +was no one else in the carriage. Karl did not look round at her until +the train had left the station. And when he saw who it was, he thought +his eyes must be playing him false. + +"Why, Rose!" he exclaimed. "Can it be you?" + +She smiled and threw her veil back, leaning towards him at the same +moment to explain why she was there. The whistle set up a shriek at +the time, and though Sir Karl, his ear bent close to her, no doubt +heard the explanation, the air of the carriage did not. "Slight +accident--last night--quite useless--would have me come--Rennet--" +were all the disconnected words _that_ caught. + +"I quite shrunk from the journey at first," she said, when the whistle +had subsided. "I feel always shy and timid now: but I am not sorry to +go, for it will give me the opportunity of making some needful +purchases. I would rather do it in London than Basham; in fact, I +should not dare to go to Basham myself: and I did not care to trust +Ann Hopley to buy these fine little things." + +"Is Adam better?" + +"Yes, I think so: he seemed pretty well yesterday. You did not come to +the Maze last night, Karl. He was wishing for you." + +Karl turned off the subject. The fright he had had, coming out on +Saturday night, would serve to keep him away for some days to come. In +his heart of hearts he believed that, in the interests of prudence, +the less he went to the Maze the better: instinct was always telling +him so. + +"I suppose you will return to-night, Rose?" + +"If I can," she answered. "It depends on Rennet. Should I be obliged +to wait until to-morrow, I shall have to sleep at an hotel: Adam has +directed me to one." And so the conversation innocently progressed, +and the train went on. + +But now, as capricious fortune had it, who should be in that self-same +train but Miss Blake! Miss Blake was going up to London en cachette. +That is to say, she had not intended Sir Karl and Lady Andinnian to +know of the journey. Some grand piece of work, involving choice silks +and much embroidery, was being projected by Miss Blake for Mr. +Cattacomb's use at St. Jerome's: she had determined to get the silks +at first hand, which she could only do in London; and took the train +this morning for the purpose. "If I am not in to luncheon, don't +think anything of it: I can get a biscuit out," she said to Lucy: and +Miss Blake's general out-of-door engagements appeared to be so +numerous--what with the church services, and the hunting-up little +ragamuffins from their mothers' cottages for instruction--that Lucy +would have thought nothing of it had she been away all day long. Miss +Blake, however, intended to get back in the afternoon. + +Seated in her compartment, waiting for the train to start, she had +seen Sir Karl Andinnian come running on to the platform; and she drew +her face back out of sight. She saw him put into a carriage just +behind her own: and she felts a little cross that he should be going +to London at all. + +"What is taking him, I wonder?" she thought. "He never said a word +about it at breakfast. I don't believe Lucy knows it." + +Arrived at the terminus, Miss Blake, knowing that gentlemen mostly +leap out of a train before it has well stopped, held back herself. +Cautiously peeping to see him pass and get fairly off, she saw what +she had not expected to see--Sir Karl helping out a lady. They passed +on quickly: Sir Karl carrying a large clasped reticule bag, and the +lady clinging to his arm. She was closely veiled: but Miss Blake's +keen eyes knew her through the veil for Mrs. Grey. + +Miss Blake could have groaned the roof off the carriage. She was the +only passenger left in it. "The deceitful villain!" she exclaimed: and +then she burst on to the platform, and sheltered herself behind a +projecting board to look after the criminals. + +Sir Karl was putting Mrs. Grey into a four-wheeled cab. He handed in +her reticule bag after her, shook hands, gave a direction to the +driver, and the cab went off. Then he looked round for a hansom, and +was driven away in his turn. Miss Blake, making good her own +departure, believed she had not yet suspected half the tricks and +turns there must be in this wicked world. + +"Poor Lucy! poor wife!" she murmured, pityingly. "May Heaven look down +and shield her!" + +Karl's errand in London was to find out what he could about Philip +Salter. On the Saturday night, patiently searching the file of +newspapers--the "Times"--he at length came upon the case. One Philip +Salter had been manager to a financial firm in London, and for some +years managed it honestly and very successfully. But he got +speculating on his own account, lost and lost, and continued to lose, +all the while using the funds, that were not his, to prop him up, and +prevent exposure. To do this, unsuspected, he was forced to resort to +forgery: to fabricate false bonds; to become, in short, one of the +worst of felons. The day of discovery came; but Mr. Salter had not +waited for it. He was off, and left no trace, as he thought, behind +him. Some clue, however, fancied or real, was obtained by a clever +ordinary police officer. He went down to Liverpool, seized Philip +Salter on board an American vessel just about to steam out of port, +and started with him for London at once by the night train, +disguised as he was. Midway on the road, Salter did what only a +desperate man, fighting for very life, would have dared to do--he +jumped from the carriage and made his escape. + +So much Karl read: but, though he searched onwards, he could see +nothing else. Some of the newspapers were missing; had not been filed; +and, it might be, that they were the very papers that spoke further. +He then resolved to seek information elsewhere. + +All day on the Sunday it had been floating through his mind. His +wife's ankle was better. He walked to church with her as usual, +sitting by her side in their conspicuous pew--placed sideways to the +pulpit and exposed to the eyes of all the congregation. Throughout the +service, throughout the sermon, Karl's mind was dwelling on the +suspicion connecting Philip Smith with Philip Salter. Lucy thought him +very still: as still and sad as herself. The only other conspicuous +pew was opposite; it belonged to the vicarage. Margaret Sumnor was in +it alone, in the half-reclining seat that had been made for her. Mrs. +Sumnor rarely went to church in the morning: the younger daughters +were of course at St. Jerome's. + +"I will go to London to-morrow," decided Karl in his own mind that +night. "Could Smith be got away from his post of espionage it might be +Adam's salvation." And that's what brought him taking the eleven +o'clock train on Monday morning. + +His hansom cab conveyed him to Plunkett and Plunkett's. That he must +conduct this inquiry in the most cautiously delicate manner, he knew +well; or he might only make bad worse, and bring the hornet's nest, +that he was always dreading, about his brother's head. Once let +Smith--if he were really Salter--suspect that inquiries were being +made about himself, and he might in revenge denounce Sir Adam. + +Mr. Plunkett, with whom Karl as well as the rest of the family had +always transacted business, was not in town. Mr. George Plunkett saw +him, but he was to Karl comparatively a stranger. Even this seemed to +fetter him and make him feel more uneasily, but without reason, the +necessity of caution. In a decidedly hesitating way, he said that he +had a reason for wishing to learn some particulars about a man who had +cheated the community a year or two ago and had made his escape, one +Philip Salter: he wanted to know whether he had been re-caught; or, if +not, where he was now supposed to be. Mr. George Plunkett immediately +asked--not supposing there was any reason why he should not be +told--for what purpose Sir Karl wished for the information. Was it +that any of his friends had been sufferers and were hoping to get back +what they had lost? And Karl contrived, without any distinct +assertion, to leave this impression on the lawyer's mind. Mr. +Plunkett, however, could give him no information about Salter, beyond +the fact--or rather, opinion, for he was not sure--that he had never +been retaken. The matter was not one they had any interest in, he +observed; and he recommended Sir Karl to go to Scotland Yard. + +"I will write a note of introduction for you to one of the head +officers there, Sir Karl," he said. "It will insure you attention." + +But Karl declined this. "If I went to Scotland Yard at all," he said, +"it would be as an unknown, private individual, not as Sir Karl +Andinnian. I don't much care to go to Scotland Yard." + +"But why?" exclaimed Mr. George Plunkett. And then, all in a moment an +idea flashed across him. He fancied that Sir Karl was shy of +presenting himself there as the brother of the unfortunate man who had +stood his trial for murder. + +"I have reasons for not wishing it to be known that I am stirring in +this," admitted Karl. "Grave reasons. At Scotland Yard they might +recognize me, and perhaps put questions that at present I would rather +not answer." + +"Look here, then," said the lawyer. "I will give you a letter to one +of the private men connected with the force--a detective, in fact. You +can see him at his own house. He is one of the cleverest men they +have, and will be sure to be able to tell you everything you want to +know. There's not the least necessity for me to mention your name to +him, and he'll not seek to learn it. I shall say you are a client and +friend of ours, and that will be sufficient." + +"Thank you, that will be best," replied Karl. + +Mr. George Plunkett wrote the note there and then, and gave it to +Karl. It was addressed to Mr. Burtenshaw, Euston Road. He took a cab +and found the house--a middling-sized house with buff-coloured blinds +to the windows. A maid servant came to the door, and her cap flew off +as she opened it. + +"Can I see Mr. Burtenshaw?" asked Sir Karl + +"Mr. Burtenshaw's out, sir," she replied, stooping to pick up the +"cap,"--a piece of bordered net the size of a five-shilling piece. "He +left word that he should be back at five o'clock." + +"If I were a detective officer, my servants should wear caps on their +heads," thought Karl, as he turned away, and went to get some dinner. + +The church clocks were striking five when he was at the door again. +Mr. Burtenshaw was at home; and Karl, declining to give his name, was +shown to an upstairs room. A little man of middle age, with a sallow +face and rather nice grey eyes, was standing by a table covered with +papers. Karl bowed, and handed him Mr. George Plunkett's note. + +"Take a seat, sir, pray, while I read it," said Mr. Burtenshaw, +instinctively recognising Karl for a gentleman and a noble one. And +Karl sat down near the window. + +"Very good; I am at your service, sir," said the detective, drawing a +chair opposite Karl's. "What can I do for you?" + +With less hesitation than he had shown to Mr. George Plunkett, for he +was gathering courage now the ice was broken, Karl frankly stated why +he had come, and what he wanted--some information about the criminal, +Philip Salter. + +"Do you know much about the case?" continued Karl--for Mr. Burtenshaw +had made no immediate reply, but sat in silence. + +"I believe I know all about it, sir. I was wondering whether you had +unearthed him and were come to claim the reward." + +"The reward! Is there an offered reward out against him?" + +"Five hundred pounds. It was offered after he had made his desperate +escape, and it stands still." + +"He has not been retaken then?" + +"No, never. We have failed in his case, I am ashamed to say. What +particulars are they, sir, that you wish to hear of him? Those +connected with his frauds and forgeries?" + +"Not those: I have read of them in some of the old papers. I want to +know where he is supposed to be; and what he is like in person." + +"Our belief is that he is still in Great Britain; strange though it +may sound to you to hear me say it. England or Scotland. After that +escapade, all the ports were so thoroughly guarded and watched, that I +don't think he could have escaped. We have a more especial reason, +which I do not speak of, for suspecting that he is here still: at +least that he was three months ago." + +"There are a hundred places in England where he may be hiding," spoke +Karl impulsively. "Where he may be living as an ordinary individual, +just like the individuals about him." + +"Exactly so." + +"Living openly as may be said, but cautiously. Perhaps wearing a +disguise." + +"No doubt of the disguise. False hair and whiskers, spectacles, and +all that." + +Karl remembered Mr. Smith's green spectacles. His hair might not be +his own: he wished he had taken better note of it. + +"And in person? What is he like?" + +"That I cannot tell you," said Mr. Burtenshaw. "I never saw him. Some +of us know him well. Grimley especially does." + +"Who is Grimley?" + +"The man who let him escape. He has been under a cloud since with us. +My wonder is that he was not dismissed." + +"Then you don't know at all what Salter is like?" + +"Are there no photographs?" + +"I think not. I have seen none. Is it very essential your ascertaining +this?" + +"The most essential point of all. Is this Grimley to be got at? If I +could see him to-day and get Salter's description from him, I should +be more than glad." + +Mr. Burtenshaw took some ivory tablets from his pocket and consulted +them. "I will send for Grimley here, sir. Will eight o'clock be too +late for you?" + +"Not at all," replied Karl, thinking he could get away by the +half-past nine train. + +Mr. Burtenshaw escorted him to the head of the stairs, and watched him +down, making his mental comments. + +"I wonder who he is? He looks too full of care for his years. But he +knows Salter's retreat as sure as a gun--or thinks he knows it. Won't +denounce him till he's sure." + +When Karl got back at eight o'clock, some disappointment was in store +for him. Grimley was not there. The detective showed the scrap of +message returned to him, scribbled in pencil on a loose bit of paper. +Karl read as follows, + + +"Can't get to you before eleven: might be a little later. Suppose it's +particular? Got a matter on hand, and have to leave for the country at +five in the morning." + + +"Will you see him at that late hour, sir?" + +Karl considered. It would involve his staying in town for the night, +which he had not prepared for. But he was restlessly anxious to set +the question at rest, and resolved upon waiting. + +He walked away through the busy London streets, seemingly more crowded +than usual that Monday evening, and sent a telegraphic message to his +wife, saying he could not be home until the morrow. Then he went into +the Charing Cross Hotel and engaged a bed. Before eleven he was back +again at Mr. Burtenshaw's. Grimley came in about a quarter past: a +powerful, tallish man with a rather jolly face, not dressed in +his official clothes as a policeman, but in an ordinary suit of +pepper-and-salt. + +"You remember Philip Salter, Grimley?" began the superior man at once, +without any circumlocution or introduction. + +"I ought to remember him, Mr. Burtenshaw." + +"Just describe his person to this gentleman as accurately as you can." + +"He's not dropped upon at last, is he?" returned the man, his whole +face lighting up. + +"No. Don't jump to conclusions, Grimley, but do as you are bid." Upon +which rebuke Grimley turned to Sir Karl. + +"He was about as tall as I am, sir, and not unlike me in shape: that +is, strongly made, and very active. His real hair was dark brown, and +almost, black--but goodness only knows what it's changed into now." + +"And his face?" questioned Karl. As yet the description tallied. + +"Well, his face was a fresh-coloured face, pleasant in look, and he +was a free, pleasant man to talk to you. His eyes--I can't be sure, +but I think they were dark brown: his eyebrows were thick and rather +more arched than common. At that time his face was clean-shaved, +whiskers and all: daresay it's covered with hair now." + +"Was he gentlemanly in his look and manners?" + +"Yes, sir, I should say so. A rather bustling, business-kind of +gentleman: I used to see him often before he turned rogue. Leastways +before it was known. You'd never have thought it of him: you'd have +trusted him through thick and thin." + +Smith at Foxwood was not bustling in his manners: rather quiet. But, +as Sir Karl's thoughts ran, there was nothing there for him to be +bustling over: and, besides, the trouble might have tamed him. In +other particulars the description might have well served for Smith +himself, and Karl's hopes rose. Grimley watched him keenly. + +"Have you a photograph of him?" asked Karl. + +"No, sir. 'Twas a great pity one was never took. I might have had it +done at Liverpool that day; but I thought I'd got himself safe, and it +didn't occur to me. Ah! live and learn. I never was _done_ before, and +I've not been since." + +"You let him escape you in the train?" + +"I let him: yes, sir, that's the right word; as things turned out. +'Don't put the handcuffs on me, Grimley,' says he, when we were about +to start for the up-night train. 'It's not pleasant to be seen in that +condition by the passengers who sit opposite you. I'll not give you +any trouble: you've got me, and I yield to it.' 'On your honour, sir?' +says I. 'On my word and honour,' says he. 'To tell you the truth, +Grimley,' he goes on, 'I've led such a life of fear and suspense +lately that I'm not sorry it's ended.' Well, sir, I put faith in him: +you've heard me say it, Mr. Burtenshaw: and we took our seats in the +carriage, me on one side, my mate, Knowles, on the other, and Salter, +unfettered, between us. He had got a great thick fluffy grey wrapper +on, half coat, 'half cloak, with them wide hanging sleeves: we touched +the sleeves on both sides, me and Knowles, with our arms and +shoulders. There was one passenger besides; he sat opposite Knowles, +and slept a good deal. Salter slept too--or seemed to sleep. Well, +sir, we had got well on in our journey, when from some cause the lamp +goes out. Soon after, the train shoots into a tunnel, and we were in +utter darkness. Salter, apparently, was sleeping fast. A glimmer of +light arose when we were half way through it, from some opening I +suppose, and I saw the opposite passenger, as I thought, leaning out +at the far window, the one next Knowles. The next minute there was a +sound and a rush of air. Good heavens he has fell out, I says to +Knowles: and Knowles--I say he had been asleep too--rouses up and says +'Why the door's open.' Sir, when we got out of the tunnel, the rays of +the bright lamp at its opening shone in; the opposite passenger was +safe enough, his head nodding on his breast, but my prisoner was +gone." + +Karl caught up his breath; the tale excited him. "How could it have +been done?" he exclaimed. + +"The dickens knows. There was his thick rough coat again our arms, but +his arms was out of it. How he had managed to slip 'em out and make no +stir, and get off his seat to the door, I shall never guess. One thing +is certain--he must have had a railway key hid about him somewhere and +opened the door with it: he must have been opening it when I thought +it was the passenger leaning out." + +"What did you do?" + +"We could do nothing, sir. Except shout to arouse the guard; we did +enough of that, but the guard never heard us. When the next station +was reached, a deal of good time had been lost. We told what had +occurred, and got the tunnel searched. That Salter would be found +dead, everybody thought. Instead of that he was not found at all; not +a trace of him." + +"He must have received injuries," exclaimed Karl. + +"I should say so," returned Grimley. "Injuries that perhaps he carries +from that day to this." And Karl half started as he remembered the arm +always in a sling. + +Just for a single moment the temptation to denounce this man came over +him, in spite of his wish and will. Only for the moment: he remembered +the danger to his brother. Besides, he would not have betrayed Smith +for the world. + +"What age is Salter?" he resumed. + +"He must be about five-and-thirty now, sir. He was said to be +three-and-thirty when it happened." + +That was the first check. Smith must be quite forty. "Did Salter look +older than his years?" he asked. + +"No, I think not. Ah, he was a cunning fox," continued Mr. Grimley, +grating his teeth at the remembrance. "I've known since then what it +is to trust to the word and honour of a thief. Can you tell me where +to find him, sir?" he suddenly cried, after a pause. "To retake that +man would be the most satisfactory piece of work I've got left to me +in life." + +"No, I cannot," replied Karl, gravely: which Mr. Grimley did not +appear to like at all. So the interview came to an end without much +result; and Karl departed for his hotel. Both Grimley and Mr. +Burtenshaw, bowing him out, remained, firmly persuaded in their own +minds that this unknown gentleman, who did not give his name, +possessed some clue or other to the criminal, Salter. + +We must return for a few minutes to Foxwood Court. Miss Blake got back +by an early afternoon train as she had intended, and found some +visitors with Lady Andinnian. It was old General Lloyd from Basham +with two of his daughters. They were asking Lady Andinnian to take +luncheon with them on the morrow, and accompany them afterwards to the +flower-show that was to be held at the Guildhall. Sir Karl and Miss +Blake were included in the invitation. Lucy promised: she seemed worn +and weary with her solitude, and she loved flowers greatly. For Sir +Karl she said she could not answer: he was in London for the day: but +she thought it likely he would be able to accompany her. Miss Blake +left it an open question: St. Jerome's was paramount just now, and +to-morrow was one of its festival-days. + +They dined alone, those two, Sir Karl not having returned for it: and, +in spite of troubles, it seemed very dull to Lucy without her husband. + +"Did you know Sir Karl was going to London?" asked Miss Blake. + +"Yes," said Lucy; "he told me this morning. He had business with +Plunkett and Plunkett." + +Miss Blake suddenly pushed her hair from her forehead as if it +troubled her, and bit her lips to enforce them to silence. + +After dinner Miss Blake went out. Tom Pepp, who was appointed +bell-ringer to St. Jerome's, in his intervals of work, had played +truant at Matins in the morning and wanted looking up; so she went to +do it. This bell was a new feature at St. Jerome's, and caused much +talk. It was hung over the entrance-door, communicating with a stout +string inside: which string Tom Pepp had to pull--to his intense +delight. + +When Miss Blake got back, Lucy was still alone. The evening passed on, +and Sir Karl did not come. Soon after nine o'clock a telegraphic +dispatch arrived from him, addressed to Lady Andinnian. Her heart beat +a little faster as she opened and read it. + + +"I cannot get my business done to-night, and must sleep in town. Shall +be home to-morrow." + + +"I wonder what business it is that is detaining him?" spoke Lucy, +mechanically, after handing the dispatch to Theresa, her thoughts bent +upon her absent husband. + +Theresa Blake was trembling to her fingers' ends. She flung down the +dispatch after reading it, and flung after it a contemptuous word. The +action and the word quite startled Lady Andinnian. + +"I'll tell you, Lucy; I'll tell you because you ought to know it," she +cried, scattering prudence to the winds in her righteous indignation; +scattering even all consideration touching Jane Shore, the pillory, +the white sheet, and the lighted taper. "The plea of business is good +to assume: very convenient! Sir Karl did not go to London alone this +morning. That girl was with him." + +"What girl?" faltered Lucy. + +"She at the Maze. She with the angel face." Lucy slightly shivered. +For a moment she made no comment. Her face turned ghastly. + +"Oh, Lucy, my dear, forgive me!" cried Miss Blake. "Perhaps I have +been wrong to tell you; but I cannot bear that you should be so +deceived. I went up to London myself this morning after some +embroidery silks that I could not get at Basham. Sir Karl and she were +in the same train. I saw them get out together at the terminus." + +It was cruel to hear and to have to bear; but Lucy said never a word. +Her tell-tale face had betrayed her emotion, but she would not let +anything else betray it. + +"Perhaps both happened to have business in London," she quietly said, +when she could trust her voice to be steady. "I am sure Karl went up +to go to Plunkett and Plunkett's." + +And not another allusion did she make to it. Ringing for Hewitt, she +calmly told him his master would not be home: and after that talked +cheerfully to Theresa until the evening was over. Miss Blake wondered +at her. + +Calm before _her_ and the world. But when she got upstairs and was +alone in her chamber, all the pent-up anguish broke forth. Her heart +seemed breaking; her sense of wrong well nigh overmastered her. + +"And it was only on Saturday he vowed to me the sin was all of the +past!" she cried. And she lay in torment through the live-long +summer's night. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +Only one Fly at the Station. + + +The railway station at Basham seemed to be never free from bustle. +Besides pertaining to Basham proper, it was the junction for other +places. Various lines crossed each other; empty carriages and trolleys +of coal stood near; porters and others were always running about. + +Four o'clock on the Tuesday afternoon, and the train momentarily +expected in from London. A few people had collected on the platform: +waiting for friends who were coming by it, or else intending to go on +by it themselves. Amidst them was a young and lovely lady, who +attracted some attention. Strangers wondered who she was: one or two +knew her for the lady of Foxwood Court, wife of Sir Karl Andinnian. + +There had been a flower-show at Basham that day: and Lady Andinnian, +as may be remembered, had promised to attend it with the family of +General Lloyd, taking luncheon with them first. But when the morning +came, she heartily wished she had not made the engagement. Sir Karl +had not returned to accompany her. Miss Blake declared that she could +not spare the time for it: for it happened to be a Saint's Day, and +services prevailed at St. Jerome's. Another check arose: news was +brought in from the coachman that one of the horses had been slightly +hurt in shoeing, and the carriage could not be used that day. + +Upon that, Lady Andinnian said she must go by train: for it would +never have occurred to her to break her promise. + +"I think, Theresa, you might manage to go with me," she said. + +Miss Blake, calculating her hours, found she had two or three to spare +in the middle of the day, and agreed to do so: provided she might be +allowed to leave Mrs. Lloyd's when luncheon was over and not be +expected to go to the town-hall. "You will only be alone in returning, +for just the few minutes that you are in the train, Lucy," she said. +"The Lloyds will see you into it, and your servants can have a fly +waiting for you at Foxwood Station." This programme had been carried +out: and here was Lucy waiting for the four o'clock train at Basham, +surrounded by General Lloyd and part of his family. + +It came steaming slowly in. Adieux were interchanged, and Lucy was put +into what is called the ladies' carriage. Only one lady was in it +besides herself; some one travelling from London. They looked at each +other with some curiosity, sitting face to face. It was but natural; +both were young, both were beautiful. + +"What lovely hair! and what charming blue eyes! and what a bright +delicate complexion!" thought Lucy. "I wonder who she is." + +"I have never in all my life seen so sweet a face!" thought the other +traveller. "Her eyes are beautiful: and there's, such a loving sadness +in them! And what a handsome dress!--what style altogether!" + +Lucy's dress was a rich silk, pearl grey in colour; her bonnet white; +her small parasol was grey, covered with lace, its handle of carved +ivory. She looked not unlike a bride. The other lady wore black silk, +a straw bonnet, and black lace veil thickly studded with spots; which +veil she had put back as if for air, just after quitting Basham; and +she had with her several small parcels. Why or wherefore neither of +them knew, but each felt instinctively attracted by the appearance of +the other. + +They were nearing Foxwood Station--it was but about eight minutes' +distance from Basham--when Lucy, in changing her position, happened to +throw down a reticule bag which had lain beside her. Both of them +stooped to pick it up. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon! I ought to have moved it when you got in," +said the stranger, placing it on her own side amidst her parcels. And +Lucy, on her part, apologised for having thrown it down. + +It served to break the ice of reserve: and for the next remaining +minute or two they talked together. By the stranger beginning to +gather together her parcels, Lucy saw she was preparing to get out at +Foxwood. + +"Are you about to make a stay in this neighbourhood?" she asked. + +"For the present." + +"It is a very charming spot. We hear the nightingales every evening." + +"You are staying in it too, then?" + +"Yes. It is my home." + +The train came to a stand-still, and they got out. Foxwood station, +after the manner of some other small rural stations, had its few +buildings on one side only: the other was open to the high road, and +to the fields beyond. In this road, drawn up close to the station, was +a waiting fly, its door already open. The stranger, carrying some of +her parcels, went straight up to it, supposing it was there for hire, +and was about to get in. + +"Beg pardon, ma'am," said the driver, "this here fly's engaged." + +She, seemed vexed, disappointed: and looked up at him. "Are you sure?" +she asked. Lucy was standing close by and heard. + +"It's brought here, ma'am, for the Lady Andinnian." + +"For whom?" she cried, her voice turning to sharpness with its haste; +her face, through her veil, changing to a ghastly white. + +The driver stared at her: he thought it was all temper. Lucy looked, +too, unable to understand, and slightly coloured. + +"For whom did you say the fly was brought?" the lady repeated. + +"For Lady Andinnian of Foxwood Court," explained the man in full. "I +shouldn't go to tell a untruth about it." + +"Oh I--I misunderstood," she said, her voice dropping, her look +becoming suddenly timid as a hare's: and in turning away with a sudden +movement, she found herself face to face with Lucy. At that same +moment, a tall footman with a powdered head--who had strayed away in +search of amusement, and strayed a little too far--came bustling up to +his mistress. + +"This is your fly, my lady." + +By which the stranger knew that the elegant girl she had travelled +with and whose sweet face was then close to her own, was the young +Lady Andinnian. Her own white face flushed again. + +"I--I beg your pardon," she said. "I did not know you were Sir Karl +Andinnian's wife. The fly, I thought, was only there for hire." + +Before Lucy could make any answer, she had disappeared from the spot, +and was giving some of her parcels to a porter. Lucy followed. + +"Can I offer to set you down anywhere? The fly is certainly waiting +for me, but--there is plenty of room." + +"Oh thank you, no. You are very kind: but--_no!_ I can walk quite +well. I am obliged to you all the same." + +The refusal was spoken very emphatically; especially the last No. +Without turning again, she rapidly walked from the station, the porter +carrying her parcels. + +"I wonder who she is?" murmured Lucy aloud, looking back as she was +about to enter the fly, her powdered servant standing to bow her in. +For she saw that there was no luggage, save those small parcels, and +was feeling somewhat puzzled. + +"It is Mrs. Grey, my lady; she who lives at the Maze." + +Had the footman, Giles, said it was an inhabitant of the world of +spirits, Lucy would not have felt more painfully and disagreeably +startled. _She!_ And she, Lucy, had sat with her in the same carriage +and talked to her on pleasant terms of equality! She, Mrs. Grey! Well, +Theresa was right: the face would do for an angel's. + +"Why, my dear Lady Andinnian, how pale you look! It's the heat, I +suppose." + +Lucy, half bewildered, her senses seeming to have gone she knew not +whither, found herself shaking hands with the speaker, Miss Patchett: +an elderly and eccentric lady who lived midway between the station and +the village of Foxwood. Lucy mechanically asked her if she had come in +the train. + +"Yes," answered Miss Patchett. "I've been to London to engage a +housemaid. And I am tired to death, my dear, and the London streets +were like fire. I wish I was at home without having to walk there." + +"Let the fly take you." + +"It's hardly worth while, my dear: it's not far. And it would be +taking you out of the way." + +"Not many yards out of it. Step in, Miss Patchett." + +The old lady stepped in, Lucy following her; Giles taking his place by +the driver. Miss Patchett was set down at her house, and then the +horse's head was turned round in the direction of Foxwood Court. The +old lady had talked incessantly; Lucy had comprehended nothing. St. +Jerome's absurd little bell was being swayed and tinkled by Tom Pepp, +but Lucy had not given it a second glance, although it was the first +time she had had the gratification of seeing and hearing it. + +"I could almost have died, rather than it should have happened," she +thought, her face burning now at the recollection of the encounter +with Mrs. Grey, so mortifying to every good feeling within her. "How +white she turned--how sharply she spoke--when they told her the fly +was there for Lady Andinnian! And to think that I should have offered +to set her down! To think it! Perhaps those parcels contained things +that Karl bought for her in London!" + +The fly, bowling on, was nearing the Maze gate. Lucy's fascinated gaze +was, in spite of herself, drawn to it. A middle-aged woman servant had +opened it and was receiving the parcels from the porter. Mrs. Grey had +her purse out, paying him. As she put the coin into his hand, she +paused to look at Lady Andinnian. It was not a rude look, but one that +seemed full of eager interest. Lucy turned her eyes the other way, and +caught a full view of Mr. Smith, the agent. He was stretched out at +one of his sitting-room windows, surveying the scene with undisguised +curiosity. Lucy sank into the darkest corner of the fly, and flung her +hands over her burning face. + +"Was any position in the world ever so painful as mine?" she cried +with a rising sob. "How shall I live on, and bear it?" + +The fly clattered in by the lodge gate and drew up at the house. +Hewitt appeared at the door, and Giles stood for his mistress to +alight. + +"Has Sir Karl returned, Hewitt?" questioned Lucy. + +"Not yet, my lady." + +She stood for a moment in thought, then gave orders for the fly to +wait, and went indoors. An idea had arisen that if she could get no +comfort whispered to her, she should almost go out of her mind. Her +aching heart was yearning for it. + +"Hewitt, I shall go and see poor Miss Sumnor. I should like to take +her a little basket of strawberries and a few of Maclean's best +flowers. Will you see to it for me, and put them in the fly?" + +She tan up stairs. She put off her robes alone, and came down in one +of her cool muslins and a straw bonnet as plain as Mrs. Grey's. Hewitt +had placed the basket of strawberries--some of the large pine-apple +beauties that the Court was famous for--in the fly, a sheet of tissue +paper upon them, and some lovely hothouse flowers on the paper. Lucy +got in; told the footman she should not require his attendance; and +was driven away to the vicarage. + +"Am I to wait for you, my lady?" asked the driver, as he set her down +with her basket of fruit and flowers. + +"No, thank you; I shall walk home." + +Margaret was lying alone as usual, her face this afternoon a sad one. +Lucy presented her little offering; and when the poor lonely invalid +saw the tempting, luscious fruit, smelt the sweet perfume of the +gorgeous flowers, the tears came into her eyes. + +"You have brought all this to brighten me, Lucy. How good you are! I +have had something to try me to-day, and was in one of my saddest +moods." + +The tears and the admission tried Lucy sorely. Just a moment she +struggled with herself for composure, and then gave way. Bursting into +a flood of grief, the knelt down and hid her face on Margaret's bosom. + +"Oh Margaret, Margaret, you cannot have as much to try you as I have!" +she cried out in her pain. "My life is one long path of sorrow; my +heart is breaking. Can't you say a word to comfort me?" + +Margaret Sumnor, forgetting as by magic all sense of her own trouble, +tried to comfort her. She touched her with her gently caressing hand; +she whispered soothing words, as one whispers to a child in sorrow: +and Lucy's sobs exhausted themselves. + +"My dear Lucy, before I attempt to say anything, I must ask you a +question. Can you tell me the nature of your sorrow?" + +But Lucy made no reply. + +"I see. It is what you cannot speak of." + +"It is what I can never speak of to you or to any one, Margaret. But +oh, it is hard to bear." + +"It seems so to you, I am sure, whatever it may be. But in the very +darkest trial and sorrow there is comfort to be found." + +"Not for me," impetuously answered Lucy. "I think God has forgotten +me." + +"Lucy, hush! You know better. The darkest cloud ever o'ershadowing the +earth, covers a bright sky. _We_ see only the cloud, but the +brightness is behind it; in time it will surely show itself and the +cloud will have rolled away. God is above all. Only put your trust in +Him." + +Lucy was silent. There are times when the heart is so depressed that +it admits not of comfort; when even sympathy cannot touch it. She bent +her face in her hands and _thought_. Look out where she would, there +seemed no refuge for her in the wide world. Her duty and the ills of +life laid upon her seemed to be clashing with each other. Margaret had +preached to her of patiently bearing, of resignation to Heaven's will, +of striving to live on, silently hoping, and returning good for evil. +But there were moments when the opposite course looked very sweet, and +this moment was one. But one thought always held her back when this +retaliation, this revenge appeared most tempting--should she not +repent of it in the future? + +"Lucy, my dear," broke in the invalid's voice, always so plaintive, "I +do not pretend to fathom this trouble of yours. It is beyond me. +I can only think it must be some difference between you and your +husband----" + +"And if it were?" interrupted Lucy, recklessly. + +"If it were! Why then, I should say to you, above all things, _bear_. +You do not know, you cannot possess 'any idea of the bitter life Of a +woman at real issue with her husband. I know a lady--but she does not +live in these parts, and you have never heard of her--who separated +from her husband. She and my own mother were at school together, and +she married young and, it was thought, happily. After a time she grew +jealous of her husband; _she had cause for it_: he was altogether a +gay, careless man, fond of show and pleasure. For some years she bore +a great deal in silence, the world knowing nothing of things being +wrong between them. Papa could tell you more about this time than I: I +was but a little child. How he and my mother, the only friends who +were in her confidence, urged her to go on bearing with what patience +she might, and trusting to God to set wrong things right. For a long +while she listened to them; but there came a time when she allowed +exasperation to get the better of her; and the world was astonished by +hearing that she and her husband had agreed to separate. Ah Lucy! it +was then that her life of real anguish set in. Just at first, for a +few weeks or so, perhaps months, she was borne up by the excitement of +the thing, by the noise it made in the world, by the gratification of +taking revenge on her husband--by I know not what. But as the long +months and the years went on, and all excitement, I may almost say all +interest in life, had faded, she then saw what she had done. She was a +solitary woman condemned to an unloved and solitary existence, and she +repented her act with the whole force of her bitter and lonely heart. +Better, Lucy, that she had exercised patience, and trusted in God; +better for her own happiness." + +"And what of her now?" cried Lucy, eagerly. + +"Nothing. Nothing but what I tell you. She lives away her solitary +years, not a day of them passing but she wishes to heaven that that +one fatal act of hers could be recalled--the severing herself from her +husband." + +"And he, Margaret?" + +"He? For aught I know to the contrary, he has been as happy since as +he was before; perhaps, in his complete freedom, more so. She thought, +poor woman, to work out her revenge upon him; instead of that, it was +on herself she worked it out. Men and women are different. A separated +man--say a divorced man if you like--can go abroad; here, there, and +everywhere; and enjoy life without hindrance, and take his pleasure at +will: but a woman, if she be a right-minded woman, must stay in her +home-shell, and eat her heart away." + +Lucy Andinnian sighed. It was no doubt all too true. + +"I have related this for your benefit, Lucy. My dear little friend, at +all costs, _stay with your husband_." + +"I should never think of leaving him for good as that other poor woman +did," sobbed Lucy. "I should be dead of grief in a year." + +"True. Whatever your cross may be, my dear--and I cannot doubt that it +is a very sharp and heavy one--take it up as bravely as you can, and +bear it. No cross, no crown." + +Some of the school children came in for a lesson in fine +work--stitching and gathering--and Lady Andinnian took her departure. +She had not gained much comfort; she was just as miserable as it was +possible to be. + +The church bell was going for the five o'clock evening service. Since +the advent of St. Jerome's, Mr. Sumnor had opened his church again for +daily service, morning and evening. This, however, was a Saint's day. +A feeling came over poor Lucy that she should like to sob out her +heart in prayer to God; and she slipped in. Not going down the aisle +to their own conspicuous pew, but into an old-fashioned, square, +obscure thing near the door, that was filled on Sundays with the poor, +and hidden behind a pillar. There, unseen, unsuspected, she knelt on +the floor, she lifted up her heart on high, sobbing silent sobs of +agony, bitter tears raining from her eyes; asking God to hear and help +her; to help her to bear. + +She sat out the service and grew composed enough to join in it. The +pillar hid her from the clergyman's view; nobody noticed that she was +there. So far as she could see, there were not above half-a-dozen +people in the church. In going out, Mr. Sumnor and Mr. Moore's sister, +Aunt Diana, came up to join her. + +"I did not know you were in church, Lady Andinnian," said the +clergyman. + +"The bell was going when I left your house: I had been to see +Margaret: so I stepped in," she replied. "But what a very small +congregation!" + +"People don't care to attend on week-days, and that's the truth," put +in Miss Moore--a middle-aged, stout lady, with her brown hair cut +short and a huge flapping hat on. "And the young folks are all off to +that blessed St. Jerome's. My nieces are there; I know it; and so are +your two daughters, Mr. Sumnor. More shame for them!" + +"Ay," sighed Mr. Sumnor, whose hair and face were alike grey, and his +look as sad as his tone. "Their running to St. Jerome's, as they do, +is nothing less, in my eyes, than a scandal. I don't know what is to +be the end of it all." + +"End of it all," echoed Aunt Diana, in her strong-minded voice. "Why, +the end will be nothing but a continuation of the folly; or perhaps +worse--Rome, or a convent, or something of that kind. I truly believe, +Mr. Sumnor, that heaven above was never so mocked before, since the +world began, as it is now by this semblance of zeal in boys and girls +for religious services and worship. The true worship of a Christian, +awakened to his state of sin and to the need he has of God's +forgiveness and care, of Christ's love, is to be revered--but that is +totally different from this business at Jerome's. _This_ is hollow at +the core; born of young men's and young girls' vanity. Does all the +flocking thither come of religion, think you? Not it." + +"Indeed no," said Mr. Sumnor. + +"And therefore I say it is a mockery of true religion, and must be a +sin in the sight of heaven. They run after Mr. Cattacomb himself: +nothing else. I went to St. Jerome's myself this morning; not to say +my prayers; just to watch my nieces and see what was going on. They +had all sorts of ceremonies and foolish folly: three of the girls had +been there beforehand, confessing to the Reverend Guy: and there was +he, performing the service and turning up the tails of his eyes." + +"O Miss Diana," involuntarily exclaimed Lucy, hardly knowing whether +to laugh or reprove. + +"It is true, Lady Andinnian. Mr. Sumnor here knows it is. Why does +Cattacomb go through his service with all that affectation? Of course +the girls like it: but they are little fools, all of them; they'd +think anything right that was done by him. I fancy the young man has +some good in him; I acknowledge it; but he is eaten up with vanity, +and lives in the incense offered by these girls. Ah well, it's to be +hoped they will all, priest and children, come to their senses +sometime." + +She turned into her home as she spoke, after wishing them good-bye. +Lucy stayed to shake hands with the clergyman. + +"Miss Diana is given to expressing herself strongly, but she is right +in the main," said Mr. Sumnor. "St. Jerome's is giving me a great deal +of trouble and sorrow just now, in more ways than one. But we have all +something to bear," he added, after a pause. "All. Sometimes I think +that the more painful it is, the more God is caring for us. Fare you +well, my dear young lady. Give my kind regards to Sir Karl." + +Lucy walked homewards, a feeling of peace insensibly diffusing itself +over her afflicted soul. The clergyman's words had touched her. + +Verses of Holy Writ and thoughts connected with them kept rising in +her mind like messages of consolation. In her misery, she felt how +very weak and weary she was; that there was nothing for her but to +resign herself to Heaven's protecting hand, as a helpless child. The +cry for it broke out involuntarily from her lips. + +"Lord, I am oppressed. Undertake for me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +Hard to Bear. + + +Dinner was waiting when Lady Andinnian entered, and the first person +she saw was her husband. He met her in the hall with outstretched +hand, his face clear and open, showing no signs of shame or guilt. + +"Did you think I was lost, Lucy?" + +She suffered her hand to touch his; for Hewitt and the tall footman, +Giles, were standing in the hall, looking on. Sir Karl saw how red her +eyes were. + +"I meant to have returned by an earlier train; but as I had the day +before me I took the opportunity of seeing after a few things I wished +to purchase--and the time slipped on," said Karl. "How have you been, +Lucy?" + +"Oh, quite well, thank you." + +"Whom do you think I travelled down with, Lucy? My old friend, +Lamprey. He had to come to Basham on some matter of business: so I +have brought him here to dinner. Make haste," he added, as she turned +to the staircase: "I think it must be ready." + +"I will be down directly," she answered. + +Aglaé was waiting; and in five minutes Lucy came down again, dressed. +Captain Lamprey was introduced to her--for it happened that they had +not been personally acquainted when at Winchester---and gave her his +arm into the dining-room. Miss Blake fell to Karl. + +But in Lucy's heart-sickness, she could scarcely be cheerful. Her +tell-tale eyes were heavy; there arose ever and anon one of those +rising sobs of the breath that speak most unmistakably of hidden +grief: and altogether Captain Lamprey felt somewhat disappointed in +Lady Andinnian. He remembered how beautiful Lucy Cleeve used to be: he +had heard of the renewed gaiety of heart her marriage with Karl +brought her: but he saw only a sad woman, who was evidently not too +happy, and whose beauty was marred by sadness and paleness. Karl was +more cheerful than usual; and Miss Blake seemed not to tire of +inquiring after Winchester and its people. But in the midst of all his +observations, Captain Lamprey never suspected that there was anything +but perfect cordiality between Sir Karl and his wife. And the dinner +came to an end. + +After coffee, Captain Lamprey set off to walk to Basham. Karl went out +with him, to put him in the right road and accompany him part of it. +Miss Blake had gone to Vespers. Lucy was alone. + +It seemed to her to be dull everywhere; especially dull indoors, and +she stepped out to the lawn: turning back almost immediately to get a +shawl for her shoulders, in obedience to an injunction of her +husband's. On the Sunday evening, when he found her sitting out of +doors without one, he had fetched one at once, and begged her not to +be imprudent or to forget her ague-fever of the previous year. She +remembered this now and went back for the shawl. Some wives, living in +estrangement from their husbands, might have studiously set his +commands at naught, and have risked ague, or what not, rather than +obey them. Not so Lucy Andinnian. She was meek and gentle by nature. +Moreover, in spite of the ill-feeling he had caused to rise up between +them, in spite of her sense of wrong and insult, she loved him in her +heart, and could not help it, as truly as ever. Visions would steal +over her in unguarded moments, of the present trouble being hushed to +rest; of all that was amiss being done away with, and she and he +reconciled and at peace again. Unhappily for the demands of pride, of +self-assertion, Lucy was by no means one of your high-spirited and +strong-minded heroines, who rashly overlook all interests to indulge +in reprisals and revenge. + +She folded the shawl about her--one of substantial white silk +crape--as carefully as Karl could have folded it; and she stayed, she +knew not how long, in the open air. Pacing the lawn; sitting amidst +the flowers; standing under the shade of the trees; always in deep +thought. The nightingale sang, and the tears gathered in her eyes as +she listened to the strain. "What a sweet place this would be to live +in," thought Lucy, "if only we could but have peace with it!" + +But the nightingale's song and the oppressive thoughts, together with +the falling dusk, brought back all her low spirits again. "There will +never be any more happiness for me in this world, never, never," she +sighed, and the tears were dropping as she went up to her own room. + +By and by Sir Karl returned. Not seeing his wife downstairs, he went +up and knocked at the door of her little sitting-room. He had not had +an opportunity of speaking a private word to her since his return. +There came no answer, and he entered. The room was empty; but as he +stood for a moment in the deep silence of twilight, the sound of sobs +in Lucy's bedchamber smote his ear. He knocked at it. + +"Lucy!" + +She had indeed once more given way to all the abandonment of grief. +Which was very foolish: but perhaps its indulgence brought a kind of +relief, and indeed her spirit was very sore. The knock startled her: +but she had not heard the call. + +"Who's there?" she asked, stepping to the door and stifling her sobs +as she best could. + +"I want to speak to you, Lucy." + +She dried her eyes, and unlocked the door, and made believe to be +calmly indifferent, as she stepped into the sitting-room. + +"I beg your pardon, Sir Karl. I was busy, and did not hear you." + +"You are looking very ill, Lucy," he said, with grieved concern. "I +thought so when I first saw you this afternoon. Then, as now, your +eyes were red with weeping." + +She strove for calmness; she prayed for it. Her determination had been +taken to bury in haughty silence all she had learnt of the London +journey, its despicable deceit, and insult to her. She _could not_ +have spoken of it; no, not even to reproach him and to bring his shame +home to him: it would have inflicted too much humiliation on her +sensitive spirit. Besides, he must know what she suffered as well as +she did. + +"I have had rather a tiring day," she answered, leaning sideways +against the open window. "There was the elaborate luncheon with +General and Mrs. Lloyd, and the flower-show afterwards. The weather +was very warm and oppressive." + +"That may account for your being tired and not looking well: but not +for the weeping, Lucy. As I stood here waiting for you to answer my +knock, I heard your sobs." + +"Yes," she said, rather faintly, feeling how useless it would be to +deny that there had been some weeping. "I get a little low-spirited +sometimes in the evening." + +"But why? wherefore?" + +"Is life so pleasant with us just now that I can always be gay, think +you!" she retorted, after a pause, and her voice took a tone of +resentment. + +"But the unpleasantness is of your making; not mine. You _know_ it, +Lucy." + +"Then--then it is right that I should be the one to suffer," was her +impatient answer--for his words were trying her almost beyond +endurance. "Let it go so: I do not wish to speak of it further." + +Karl was standing at the opposite corner of the window, facing her, +his arms folded. On his part he was beginning to be a little out of +patience too, with what he deemed her unreasonable caprice. For a few +moments there was silence. + +"What I want to tell you is this, Lucy. My visit to London was +connected with that wish which you seem to have so much at +heart--though I cannot exactly understand why----" + +"I have no wish at heart," she resentfully interrupted. + +"Nay, but hear me. The wish you expressed to me I think you must have +at heart, since on its fulfilment you say depends our reconciliation. +I speak of the removal of--of the tenants of the Maze," he added, half +breaking down, in his sensitive hesitation. "Since my conversation +with you on Saturday, during which, if you remember, this stipulation +of yours was made, there occurred, by what I should call, a singular +chance, only that I do not believe anything is chance that affects our +vital interests in this life--there occurred to me a slight +circumstance by which I thought I saw a possibility of carrying out +your wish----" + +"You said then that it was your wish also," again interrupted Lucy. +"Or affected to say it." + +"Your wish for it cannot be as hearty as mine," he impulsively +answered. "I pray for it night and day." + +And Lucy could not well mistake the emotional earnestness. She +believed him there. + +"Well, I thought I saw a chance of it," he resumed, "and I went to get +some information, that I fancied might help me, from Plunkett and +Plunkett--" + +"Is it fitting that you should give these details to me?" she +haughtily interposed. + +"I wish you to understand that I am doing my best. Plunkett and +Plunkett could not give me the information: but they directed me to +some people where I might obtain it. To enable me to see one of these +people, I had to stay in town all night; and that was the reason of my +not getting home." + +Lucy had taken a spray of jessamine from her waistband, and stood +pulling it to pieces, listening with an air of indifference. + +"I do not really know more than I did before I went to town, as to +whether or not the Maze can be left empty," he went on. "But I have a +good hope of it. I think I may be able to accomplish it, though +perhaps not quite immediately. It may take time." + +"As you please, of course," answered Lucy coldly. "It is nothing to +me." + +Karl Andinnian had one of the sweetest tempers in the world, and +circumstances had taught him patience and endurance. But he felt +grieved to his very heart at her cutting indifference, and for once +his spirit rebelled against it. + +"Lucy, how dare you treat me so? What have I done to deserve it from +you? You must know and see what a life of tempest and apprehension +mine is. There are moments when I feel that I could welcome death, +rather than continue to live it." + +She was not ungenerous. And, as he so spoke, it struck her that, +whatever her wrongs, she had been petty and ungracious to him now. And +perhaps--Heaven knew--he was really striving to rid himself of Mrs. +Grey as earnestly as she could wish it. Her countenance softened. + +"I am as a man tied down in a net from which there is no extrication," +he resumed with increased emotion. "My days are so full of care that I +envy the poor labourers at work by the road-side, and wish I was one +of them--anything in the world, good or bad, but what that world calls +me--Sir Karl Andinnian. And my wife, whom I have loved with my heart's +best love, and whom I might have fondly hoped would pity my strait and +comfort me--she turns against me. God forgive you for your harshness, +Lucy." + +The reproaches wrung her heart terribly. In the moment's repentance, +she believed she had judged him more hardly than he deserved. Her tone +was gentle, her eyes had tears in them. + +"I have to bear on my side too, Karl. You forget that." + +No, he did not forget it. But the temporary anger was pre-eminent just +then. A hot retort was on his lips; when the sight of her face, sad +with its utter sorrow, struck on every generous chord he possessed, +and changed his mood to pity. He crossed over and took her unresisting +hands in his. + +"Forgive my words, Lucy: you tried me very much. We have both +something to forgive each other." + +She could not speak; sobs were rising in her throat. Karl bent forward +and kissed her passionately. + +"Need we make life worse for one another than it is?" he asked. + +"I cannot help it," she sobbed. "Don't blame me, for I cannot help +it." + +"Suppose I take the matter into my own hands, Lucy, and say you shall +help it." + +"You will not do that," she said, the implied threat restoring her +coldness and calmness, though her face turned as pale as the blossoms +of the jessamine. "Things are bad enough as they are, but that would +make them worse. I should leave your home for good and all--and should +have to say why I do so." + +She knew how to subdue him. This exposure, if she carried it out, +might cost his brother's safety. Karl, feeling his helplessness most +bitterly, dropped her hands, and went back to his post at the opposite +side of the window. + +"I have not said quite all I wish to say," he began, in a voice from +which emotion had passed. "As I had the day in London before me, I +thought I would look after a pony-chaise for you, Lucy, and I found a +beauty. It will be home in a day or two." + +"But you have not bought it?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"Oh, I'm sorry! I did not want one. But it was very kind of you to +think of me, Karl," she added in her gratitude. + +"And there's a pretty pony to match: a small, quiet, gentle creature. +I hope you will like him. I cannot have you running about the place on +foot, making yourself ill with the heat." + +"Thank you; thank you. But I never drove in my life. I fear I should +be a coward." + +"I will drive you until you get used to him. That is, if you will +permit me. Lucy, believe me, amidst all my care and trouble, your +happiness lies next my heart." + +On his way to leave the room, he stopped and shook hands with her: +perhaps as an earnest of his friendliness. Theresa Blake, walking on +the lawn beneath, had seen them conversing together at the window. She +thought a taste of Jane Shore's pillory might not have been amiss for +bringing Lady Andinnian to her senses. + +Presently Lucy went down and had tea with Theresa, presiding herself +at the cups and saucers by moonlight--for there was little light of +day left. Sir Karl did not appear. He was in his room on the other +side the house, holding some colloquy with Hewitt. + +"I am going to have a pony-chaise, Theresa." + +"Oh, indeed," returned Miss Blake, who seemed in rather a crusty +humour. "I thought I heard you say that you did not require one." + +"Perhaps I may be glad of it, for all that. At any rate, Sir Karl has +bought it, pony, and chaise, and all; and they will be down this +week." + +Miss Blake's face was a scornful one just then, in her condemnation of +wrong-doing. "He bribes her into blindness," was the thought that ran +through her mind. + +"Why are your eyes so red and heavy, Lucy? They were so at dinner." + +"My eyes red!" artfully responded Lucy. "Are they? Well, I have had +rather a tiring day, Theresa; and it has been so very hot, you know. +You ought to have waited for the flower-show. It was one of the best I +ever saw." + +"Yes, I should have liked it." + +"I took home poor Miss Patchett in my fly, from the station," went on +Lucy, who seemed to be running from one topic to another, perhaps to +divert attention from herself. "She had been to London to engage a +servant, and looked ready to drop with the heat. Did you ever know it +so hot before, Theresa?" + +"I think not. Not for a continuancy. Is Sir Karl going to take any +tea? There's nothing else so refreshing these sultry evenings." + +"He says tea only makes him hotter," returned Lucy with a smile. "Ring +the bell, please, Theresa: you are nearer to it than I am." + +Giles appeared, in answer, and was sent by Lucy to inquire whether his +master would take tea, or not. The message brought forth Karl. The +moon was shining right on the table. + +"I'll drink a cup of tea if you will put in plenty of milk to cool +it," said he. "How romantic you look here, sitting in the moonlight! +Thank you, Lucy." + +"We are glad to do without lights so long as we can in this weather," +observed Miss Blake. "They make the room warmer." + +He drank the tea standing, and went back again. Lucy sent the tray +away, and presently ordered the lights. She then ensconced herself in +an easy chair with one of the romances Karl had brought her on the +Saturday: and Miss Blake strolled out of doors. + +At first Lucy held the book upside-down. Then she read a page three +times over, and could not comprehend it. Ah, it was of no use, this +playing at light-hearted ease. She might keep up the farce tolerably +well before people; but when alone with herself and her misery, it was +a senseless mockery. + +Leaving the book behind her, she went wandering about from room to +room. The windows of all were put open, to catch what little air there +might be. As she stood in one of the unlighted rooms, Sir Karl passed +along the terrace. She drew back lest he should see her, and heard him +go into the lighted drawing-room and call her. + +"Lucy!" + +Not a word would she answer. She just stood back against the wall in +the dark beyond the curtain, and kept still. He went out again, and +began pacing the opposite path in the shade cast by the overhanging +trees. Lucy watched him. Suddenly he plunged in amidst the trees, and +she heard one of the private gates open and close. + +"He is gone _there_," she said, the pulses of her heart quickening and +her face taking a ghastly tinge in the moonlight. + +Miss Blake, who had been also lingering in the garden, in some of its +shaded nooks and corners, her thoughts busy with Guy Cattacomb and +with certain improvements that reverend man was contemplating to +introduce at St. Jerome's, had also seen Sir Karl, and watched his +stealthy exit. She immediately glided to another of the small private +gates of egress, cautiously opened it, and looked out. + +"Yes, I thought so: he is off to the Maze," she mentally cried, as she +saw Sir Karl, who had crossed the road, walking towards that secluded +spot, and keeping close against the opposite hedge. The moonlight was +flung pretty broadly upon the road to-night, but the dark hedge served +to screen him in a degree. Miss Blake's eyes were keen by moonlight or +by daylight. She watched him pass under the trees at the entrance: she +watched him open the gate, and enter. And Miss Blake, religious woman +that she was, wondered that the skies did not drop down upon such a +monster in human shape; she wondered that the same pure air from +heaven could be permitted to be breathed by him and by that earthly +saint, The Reverend Guy. + +Some few of us, my readers, are judging others in exactly the same +mistaken manner now: and have no more suspicion that we are wrong and +they right than Miss Theresa Blake had. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +With his Brother. + + +Sir Karl locked the gate safely, wound himself through the maze of +trees, and soon reached the open space before the house. Part of the +grass-plat was steeped in light, and he saw Mrs. Grey walking there. +He crossed it to accost her. + +"Did you get back yesterday, Rose?" he inquired, after shaking hands. + +"No, not until this afternoon. Rennet kept me. I saw him when I drove +there yesterday: but he was then preparing to go out of town for the +rest of the day on business, and it was impossible for him to do what +was wanted before this morning. So I had to wait in town." + +"I wonder we did not chance to travel down together, then!" observed +Karl. "I did not return until this afternoon. Would you like to take +my arm, Rose, while you walk?" + +"Thank you," she answered, and took it. She had on the black dress she +had worn in London, and her golden hair gleamed with all its beauty in +the moonlight. Karl remarked that she leaned upon him somewhat +heavily. + +"You are tired, Rose!" + +"I felt very tired when I got home. But Ann Hopley preaches to me so +much about the necessity of taking exercise, that I thought I would +walk about here for half-an-hour. I have had scarcely any walking +to-day; I was so fatigued with the journey and with the shopping +yesterday that I had to keep as still as I could this morning. But +there was a good deal to do; what with Rennet and some errands I had +left." + +"Where's Adam?" + +"In-doors. He is complaining of that sensation of pain again. I do not +like it at all, Karl." + +"And while he is lying concealed here he cannot have medical advice. +At least I don't see how it would be possible." + +"It would not be possible," said Rose, decisively. "Oh, but I +forgot--I have to tell you something, Karl. Whom do you think I +travelled with from Basham to Foxwood?" + +"I don't know." + +"Your wife." + +"My wife!" + +"It is true. I was in the ladies' carriage alone all the way from +London. At Basham a young and elegant lady in pearl-grey silk and +white bonnet, with the daintiest parasol I ever saw was put in. An old +gentleman--she called him 'General'--and some ladies were with her on +the platform. We were alone in the carriage, she and I; and I think we +looked at each other a good deal. What she thought of me I don't know; +but I thought that she had one of the sweetest and gentlest faces my +eyes ever rested on. She had a sweet voice, too, for we spoke a little +just as we got to Foxwood." + +"But did you know her?--did she know you?" interrupted Karl. + +"No, no. I should have had no idea who she was, but that there arose +some question about the one fly waiting there, and some one said it +had been brought for Lady Andinnian. Karl, if ever I felt startled in +my life, it was then." + +"Why were you startled?" + +"Don't you see? 'Lady Andinnian!' I took it at the moment to mean +myself, and I felt my face turn white at the danger. Fear is quiet; +and I am living in it always, Karl. What I thought was, that Adam had +sent that fly for me, supposing I might come by that train; and that, +in his incaution, or perhaps out of bravado, he had given my true +name. Of course nothing could have been more absurd than this fancy of +mine--but it was what arose to me. Almost at once I recognized my +mistake, and saw how it was--that _she_ was the Lady Andinnian meant, +Sir Karl's wife. I think I said something to her, but I was so +confused I hardly know. I only have wondered since that I did not +guess who she was at first, from her attire and her beauty." + +"Lucy did not tell me of this." + +"Oh dear no, she would not be likely to recall it, or to know me from +any other stranger one may meet in travelling. Adam says you love her +to excess: I am sure, Karl, I don't wonder at it." + +He made no answer. Yes, he loved his wife with a wondrous love: but +just now she was trying that love sharply. + +"And about the matter you went up upon?" resumed Mrs. Grey. "Did you +succeed in learning anything of Philip Salter?" + +"Not much. I joined you on the grass here to tell you what I did +learn, before going in to Adam. Salter has never been retaken: and the +police have an idea that he is still in concealment in England. +There's a reward of five hundred pounds out against him." + +"Why do they think he is in England?" asked Rose, quickly. + +"I don't know. They would not tell me." + +"You communicated with the police, then, Karl. You were not afraid?" + +"Not with the police as a body, but with one of their private +detectives: a Mr. Burtenshaw. Plunkett and Plunkett gave me a note to +him. It was he who said he believed Salter to be still in the country: +but the reason for believing it he would not give me." + +"And did you get him described?" + +"Yes, by the very man who let him escape: a policeman named Grimley: +Burtenshaw sent for him. In nearly every particular his description +tallies with Smith." + +"Oh, Karl! he is certainly Salter." + +"Does Smith wear his own hair?" + +"Yes. At least," she added, less decisively, "if it were false I think +I should not have failed to notice it. It is very dark; his whiskers +are nearly black and his hair is only a shade lighter." + +"Just so. But--I should say Smith was forty." + +"About that." + +"Well, Salter, they say, would be now only five-and-thirty. I don't +attach much importance to the disparity!" added Karl: "Salter's +trouble may have prematurely aged him." + +"What shall you do in it?" she resumed after a pause. "It seems to me +that if we could get Smith removed so as to leave Adam, in that sense, +free, the half of our dreadful trouble would be over." + +"I don't know what I shall do," replied Karl. "It will not do to stir +an inch, as to the bringing it home to Smith, unless I am sure and +certain. At present, Rose, it seems to be for me only another care +added to the rest." + +"Karlo, old fellow, is that you?" interrupted a voice from the passage +window over the porch. "What on earth do you stay chattering to the +wife for? I want you." + +Karl looked up, nodded to his brother, and went in. Adam was in his +customary evening attire, and just as gay as usual. He waited for Karl +at the head of the stairs and they went together into the sitting-room +that was always used at night. This sitting-room had a second door; +one in the paneling, not visible to a casual observer. It communicated +with a passage that nothing else communicated with; the passage +communicated with a spiral staircase, and that with nobody knew what +or where. Had Adam Andinnian been surprised in his retreat by his +enemies, it was by that private door he would have made his escape, or +tried to do it. + +"Rose says you are not very well, Adam: that you are feeling the pain +again," began Karl. "What do you think it is?" + +"Goodness knows: I don't," returned Adam. "My opinion is, that I must +in some way have given my inside a deuce of a wrench. I don't tell +Rose that: she'd set on and worry herself." + +"I hope it is nothing serious--that it will soon pass off. You see, +Adam, the cruel difficulty we should be in, if you were to require +medical advice." + +"Oh, bother!" cried Adam. + +"Why do you say 'bother?'" + +"Because it is bother, and nothing else. When did I ever want medical +advice? In general health, I'm as strong as a horse." + +"When we were young men at home, they used to say I had twice the +constitution that you had, Adam, in spite of your strong looks." + +"Home fallacy!" said Adam lightly. "It was the father used to say +that, I remember. For the most part, the preaching that people make +over 'constitution' is worth no more than the breath wasted on it. The +proof of a pudding is in the eating: and the proof of a sound +constitution lies in a man's good strength. I am stronger than you, +Karl." + +"As regards muscular strength, you are." + +"And what's muscular strength a proof of, pray, but constitutional +strength? Come, old wise-acre!" + +To argue with Adam Andinnian had been always about as profitable as to +tell a ship to sail against the wind. So Karl said no more about +strength. + +"The chance that such a necessity may arise, Adam, and the difficulty +and danger that would attend it----" + +"What necessity?" interrupted Adam. + +"Of your requiring a medical man. Your wife will want one; but that's +different: she is supposed to live here alone, and you will of course +take care to keep out of the way at that time. But the other thought +does cross my mind anxiously now and again." + +"Karlo, old man, you were always one of the anxious ones. I am content +to leave problems alone until they arise. It is the best way." + +"Sometimes it may be; not always. Of course all these thoughts turn +round to one point, Adam--the urgent expediency there exists for your +quitting the Maze." + +"And I am not going to quit it." + +"The advance of those people on Saturday night; the studied tramp, as +I thought it, of policemen, gave me a fright, Adam. Let us suppose +such a thing for a moment as that they were coming after you! No +earthly aid could have shielded you." + +"But they were not coming after me, you see; they were but carrying +some poor dead man to his home on my estate. The same fear may apply +wherever I go." + +"No, it could not. It could apply to nowhere as it does to here. In +some place abroad, Adam, you would be comparatively secure and safe. I +am convinced that this locality is, of all, the most dangerous." + +"If I were already at the same place you mention, wherever that may +be--an inaccessible island in the icy seas, say--I should undoubtedly +be more out of the reach of English constables and warders than I am +now: but as matters stand, Karl, I am safer here, because the danger +to me would lie in getting away. I shall not attempt to do it." + +Karl paused for a few minutes before he resumed. His brother, sitting +near the shaded lamp, was turning over the pages of the "Art Journal," +a copy of which Mrs. Grey had brought from London. + +"How came you to know Smith, Adam?" + +"How came I to know Smith!" repeated Sir Adam. "To tell you the truth, +Karl, Smith saved me. But for his sheltering me in the time you know +of, I should not be at liberty now; probably not in life. Until then +he was a stranger." + +"And for saving you he exacts his black mail." + +"Little blame to him for it," returned Sir Adam, with a half laugh. + +"I believe that the man is keeping you here," continued Karl; "that +you dare not go away unless he lifts his finger." + +"Naturally he is anxious for my safety, Karl; for the sake of his own +self-interest." + +"Precisely so. He would rather keep you here in danger than suffer you +to escape to freedom. Do you know anything of his antecedents?" + +"Nothing. For all I can tell, as to who or what the man was before +that night he rescued me, he might have dropped from the moon." + +"And since then it has been the business of your life to conciliate +him, Adam!" + +"What would you? The man knows that I am Adam Andinnian: and, knowing +it, he holds a sword over me. Is it worth my while, or not, to try to +keep it from falling?" + +Karl sighed deeply. He saw all the intricacies of the case; and, what +was worse, he saw no outlet from them. If only he could but feel that +his brother was passably safe at the Maze, he would have been less +uneasy: but a secret instinct, that he surely believed was a +prevision, warned him of danger. + +"I wish, with my whole heart, Adam, that you had never come here!" +broke from him, in his dire perplexity, the reiterated cry. + +Sir Adam threw down the "Art Journal," and turned to confront his +brother, leaning a little forward in his chair. His face was flushed, +his voice took a tone of passion, even his beautiful teeth looked +stern. + +"Karl, did you ever try to realize to yourself all the horrors of my +position at Portland!" he asked. "I, a gentleman, with a gentleman's +habits--and a man to whom freedom of will and of limb was as the very, +essence of life--was condemned for ever to a manacled confinement; to +mate with felons; to be pointed at as one of a herd of convict +labourers. A felon myself, you will perhaps say; but I do not +recognize it. Had I been guilty of aught disgraceful? No. What I did, +in shooting that man Scott, I was perfectly justified in doing, after +my solemn warning to him. Remember, it was my wife he insulted that +evening; not simply, as the world was allowed to believe, my young +neighbour, Miss Rose Turner. What should _you_ feel if some low +reprobate seized your wife, Lucy, before your eyes, and pressed his +foul kisses on her innocent face! Your blood would be up, I take it." + +"Adam, since I knew she was your wife I have almost held you +justified." + +"To go on. Can you realize a _tithe_ of what it was for me on Portland +Island!" + +"From the time you went there until I heard of your death, I never +ceased to realize it in my own soul night or day." + +"Karl, I believe it. I remember what your sensitively tender nature +always used to be. And we did care for each other, old fellow." + +"Ay, and _do_." + +"Well, compare that life I escaped from with this that I lead now. +Here I am, so to say, a free man, at perfect liberty within these +small bounds, my wife for my companion, my table at my command, master +on my own estate, the revenues of which I divide with you that you may +be the baronet to the world and keep up Foxwood. As fate has fallen, +Karl, I could not be so happy anywhere as here." + +"I know; I know. But it is the risk I fear." + +"There must be some risk everywhere." + +"Answer me truly--as you would to your own heart, Adam. If by some +miracle you could be transported safely to a far-off land, would you +not feel more secure there than here?" + +"Yes. And for Rose's sake I would go if I could; she is just as +apprehensive here as you. But I can't. When Smith says I must not +attempt to get away, he is right. I feel that he is. The man's +interest lies in my safety, and I believe he thinks my safety lies in +my remaining here." + +"Just so," said Karl. "Smith is the stumbling-block." + +"Well, he holds the reins, you see. It is no use trying to fight +against his opinion: besides, I think he is right. However that may +be, I can't afford to come to a rupture with him. Good heavens, Karl! +fancy his sending me back in irons to Portland! That will never be, +however," added Sir Adam more calmly, "for I would not be taken alive. +I or my capturers should fall." + +He put his hand inside his white waistcoat, and showed the end of a +pistol. One he kept close to him night and day, always loaded, always +ready. Karl's arguments failed him, one by one. As he was helpless to +combat the decisions of his wife, so was he helpless here. + +And so the interview ended in nothing, just as others had ended. + +A black cloud, threatening thunder, had come over the summer's night +when Karl went out. It did not seem to him half so dark as the trouble +at his own heart. He would have given his life freely, to purchase +security for his brother. + + + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + + +-------------------------------- +PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. +-------------------------------- + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Within the Maze, Vol. 1 (of 2), by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58345 *** |