Chapter Forty One.

Chapter Forty One.A wild, despairing cry escaped Kate Wilton’s lips, as the firm grasp of a man’s hand closed upon and prisoned her wrist.“Hush, you foolish girl,” was whispered, angrily, and she was caught by a strong arm thrown round her, the wrist released, and a hand was clapped upon her lips. “Do you want to alarm the house?”Her only reply was to struggle violently and try to tear the hand from her mouth, but she was helpless, and the arm round her felt like iron.“It is of no use to struggle, little bird,” was whispered. “Are you not ashamed to drive me to watch you like this, and prevent you from perpetrating such a folly? What madness! Try to leave the house at midnight, by the help of that wretched idiotic girl, and trust yourself alone in the street. Truly, Kate, you need a watchful guardian. Now, as you prefer the darkness, come and sit down with me; I want a quiet talk with you. Kate, my dear, you force me to all this, and you must listen to reason now. There, it is of no use to struggle. Come with me quietly and sensibly, or I swear that I will carry you.”Her answer was another frantic struggle, while, wrenching her head round, she freed herself from the pressure of his hand, and uttered another piercing scream.“Silence!” he cried, fiercely; and he was in the act of raising her from the floor, when she writhed herself nearly free, and in his effort to recover his grasp, he caught his foot on the mat and nearly fell.It was Kate’s opportunity. With one hand she thrust at him, with the other struck at him madly, ran to the stairs, and bounded up, just reaching her room as a light gleamed from above and showed Garstang a dozen steps below, too late to overtake her before her door was dashed to and fastened.Then, as she stood there, panting and ready to faint with horror, she heard Garstang’s angry voice and the whining replies of the housekeeper, while, though she could not grasp a word, she could tell by the tones that the woman was being abused for coming down, and was trying to make some excuse.How that night passed Kate Wilton hardly knew, save that it was one great struggle to master a weak feeling of pitiful helplessness which prompted her to say, “I can do no more.”At times, from utter mental exhaustion, she sank into a kind of stupor, more than sleep, from which she invariably started with a faint cry of horror and despair, feeling that she was in some great peril, and that the darkness was peopled with something against which she must struggle in spite of her weakness. It was a nightmare-like experience, constantly repeated, and the grey morning found her feverish and weak, but in body only. Despair had driven her to bay, and there was a light in her eyes, a firmness in her words, which impressed the housekeeper when she came at breakfast time.“Master’s compliments, ma’am, and he is waiting breakfast,” she said; “and I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I thought I ought to tell you he is very angry. I never saw him like it before; and if you would be ruled by me, I’d go down and see him. You have been very hard to him, I know; and you can’t, I’m sure, wish to hurt the feelings of one who is the best of men.”Kate sat looking away from her in silence, and this encouraged the woman to proceed.“He was very cross when he found out that you had been persuading poor Becky to post a letter for you. He suspected her, and had her into the lib’ry and made her confess; and then he took the letter away from her. But that was nothing to what he was when he found that instead of going to bed Becky had come down again and was waiting to try and let you out I thought he would have turned her into the street at once. But oh, my dear, he is such a good man, he wouldn’t do that. But he said it was disgracefully treacherous of her. And between ourselves, my dear, it was quite impossible. Master has, I know, taken all kinds of precautions to keep you from going away. He told me that it was only a silly fit of yours, and that you didn’t mean it; and, oh, my dear, do pray, pray be sensible. Think what a good chance it is for you to marry one of the noblest and best of—”Sarah Plant ceased speaking, and stood with her lips apart, gazing blankly at the prisoner, who had slowly turned her head and fixed her with her indignant eyes.“Silence, you wretched creature!” she said, in a low, angry whisper. “How dare you address me like this! Go down to your master, and tell him that I will see him when he has done his breakfast.”“Oh, please come now, ma’am.”“Tell him to send me word when he is at liberty, and I will come.”Kate pointed to the door, and the woman hurried out.She returned in a few minutes, though, with a breakfast tray, which she set down without a word, and once more Kate was alone; but she started at a sound she heard at the door, and darted silently to it to slip the bolt; but before her hand could reach it there was a faint click, and she knew that the key had been taken out and replaced upon the other side. She was for the first time locked in, and a whispering told her that Garstang was there.The struggle with her weakness had not been without its result. An unnatural calmness—the calmness of despair—had worked a change in her, and she was no longer the frightened, trembling girl, but the woman, ready to fight for all that was dear in life. She knew that she was weak and exhausted in body, and sat down with a strange calmness to the breakfast that had been brought up, eating and drinking mechanically, but thinking deeply the while of the challenge which she felt that she had sent down to Garstang, and collecting her forces for the encounter.Quite an hour had passed before she heard a sound; and then the key was turned in the lock, and the housekeeper appeared.“Master is in the library, ma’am,” she said, “and will be glad to see you now.”This was said with a meaning smile, which said a great deal; but Kate did not even glance at her. She walked calmly out of her room, descended the staircase, and went straight into the library, where Garstang met her with extended hands.“My dearest child,” he began.She waved him aside, and walked straight to her usual place, and sat down.“Ah!” said Garstang, as if to himself; “more beautiful than ever, in her anger. How can she wonder that she has made me half mad?”“Will you be good enough to sit down, Mr Garstang?” she said, gazing firmly at him.“May I not rather kneel?” he said, imploringly.“Will you be good enough to understand, Mr Garstang,” she continued, with cutting contempt in her tones, “that you are speaking to a woman whose faith in you is completely destroyed, and not to a weak, timid girl.”“I can only think one thing,” he whispered, earnestly, “that I am in the presence of the woman I worship, one who will forgive me everything, and become my wife.”“Your wife, sir? I have come here this morning, repellent as the task is, to tell you what you refuse to see—that your proposals are impossible, and to demand that you at once restore me to the care of my guardian.”“To be forced to marry that wretched boy?” he cried, passionately; “never!”“May I ask you not to waste time by acting, Mr Garstang?” she said, with cutting irony. “You call me ‘My dear child!’ You are a man of sufficient common sense to know that I am not the foolish child you wish me to be, and that your words and manner no longer impose upon me.”“Ah, so cruel still!” he cried; but she met his eyes with such scathing contempt in her own that his lips tightened, and the anger he felt betrayed itself in the twitching at the corners of his temples.“You have unmasked yourself completely now, sir, and by this time you must understand your position as fully as I do mine. You have been guilty of a disgraceful outrage.”“My love—I swear it was my love,” he cried.“Of gold?” she said, contemptuously. “Is it possible that a man supposed to be a gentleman can stoop to such pitiful language as this? Let us understand each other at once. Your attempts to replace the fallen mask are pitiful. Come, sir, let us treat this as having to do with your scheme. You wish to marry me?”“Yes; I adore you.”She rose, with her brow wrinkling, her eyes half closed, and the look of contempt intensifying.“Perhaps I had better defer what I wished to say till to-morrow, sir?”He turned from her as if her words had lashed him, but he wrenched himself back and forced himself to meet her gaze.“In God’s name, no!” he cried, passionately; “say what you have to say at once, and bring this folly to an end.”She resumed her seat.“Very well; let us bring this folly to an end. I am ready to treat with you, Mr Garstang.”“Hah!” he cried, with a mocking laugh. “An unconditional surrender?”“Yes, sir; an unconditional surrender,” she said calmly. “You have been playing like a gamester for the sake of my fortune.”“And your beautiful self,” he whispered.“For my miserable fortune; and you have won.”“Yes,” he said, “I have won. I am the conqueror; but Kate, dearest—”She rose slowly from her seat.“Will you go on speaking without the mask, Mr Garstang?” she said, coldly; and she heard his teeth grit together, as he literally scowled at her now, with a look full of threats for the future.“I am your slave, I suppose,” he said, bitterly; but she remained standing.“I wish to continue talking to Mr Garstang, the lawyer,” she said, coldly. “If this is to continue it is a waste of words.”He threw himself back in his chair, and she resumed hers.“Now, sir, you are a solicitor, and learned in these matters; can you draw up some paper which will mean the full surrender of my fortune to you? and this I will sign if you set me at liberty.”“No,” he said, quietly, “I can not draw up such a paper.”“Why?”“Because it would be utterly without value.”“Very well, then, there must be some way by which I can buy my liberty. The money will be mine when I come of age.”“Yes, there is one way,” he said, gazing at her intently.“What is that, sir?”“By signing the marriage register.”“That I shall never do,” she said, rising slowly. “Once more, Mr Garstang, I tell you that this money is valueless to me, and that I am ready to give it to you for my liberty.”“And I tell you the simple truth—that you talk like the foolish child you are. You cannot give away that which you do not possess. It is in the keeping of your uncle, and the law would not allow you to give it away like that.”“Does the law allow you to force me to be your wife, that you may, as my husband, seize upon it?”“The law will let you consent to be my wife,” he said, wincing slightly at her words.“I have told you my decision,” she said, coldly.“Temporary decision,” he said, smiling.“And,” she continued, “I shall wait until your reason has shown you that we are not living in the days of romance. Your treatment would be horrible in its baseness if it were not ridiculous. I own that I was frightened at first, but a night’s calm thought has taught me how I stand, has given me strength of mind, and I shall wait.”“And so shall I,” he said, gazing at her angrily as he leaned forward; but she did not shrink from his eyes, meeting them with calm contemptuous indifference; and he sprang up at last with an angry oath.“Once more, Kate,” he said, “understand this: you must and shall be my wife. You may try and set me at defiance, shut yourself up in your room, and keep on making efforts to escape, but all is in vain. I weighed all this well before I put my plans in execution. You hear me?”“Every word,” she said, coldly. “Now hear me, Mr Garstang. I shall never consent to be your wife.”“We shall see that,” he cried.“I shall not shut myself up in my room, and I shall make no further attempt to leave this house. It would be too ridiculous. Sooner or later my uncle will trace me, and call you to account. I shall keep nothing back, and if he thinks proper to prosecute you for what you have done I shall be his willing witness.”“Then you would go back to Northwood?” he said, with a laugh.“Yes; if my uncle were here I should return with him at once. I was an impressionable, weak girl when I listened to you that night I had faith in you then. Events since have made me a woman.”She rose again, and took a step or two to cross the room, and he sprang up to open the door.“We shall see,” he said, with an angry laugh.“Thank you,” she said, calmly. “I was not going upstairs.” And to his utter amazement she passed beyond him to one of the bookshelves, took down the volume she had been studying, and returned to her seat.He stood gazing at her, utterly confounded; but she calmly opened the book, and, utterly ignoring his presence, sat reading and turning over the leaves.There was a profound silence in the room for a few minutes, save that the clock on the chimney-piece kept on its monotonous tick; and then Garstang strode angrily to the door, went out, and closed it heavily behind him, while Kate uttered a low, deep sigh, and with her face ghastly and eyes closing, sank back in her chair.The tension had been agonising, and she felt as if something in her brain was giving way.

A wild, despairing cry escaped Kate Wilton’s lips, as the firm grasp of a man’s hand closed upon and prisoned her wrist.

“Hush, you foolish girl,” was whispered, angrily, and she was caught by a strong arm thrown round her, the wrist released, and a hand was clapped upon her lips. “Do you want to alarm the house?”

Her only reply was to struggle violently and try to tear the hand from her mouth, but she was helpless, and the arm round her felt like iron.

“It is of no use to struggle, little bird,” was whispered. “Are you not ashamed to drive me to watch you like this, and prevent you from perpetrating such a folly? What madness! Try to leave the house at midnight, by the help of that wretched idiotic girl, and trust yourself alone in the street. Truly, Kate, you need a watchful guardian. Now, as you prefer the darkness, come and sit down with me; I want a quiet talk with you. Kate, my dear, you force me to all this, and you must listen to reason now. There, it is of no use to struggle. Come with me quietly and sensibly, or I swear that I will carry you.”

Her answer was another frantic struggle, while, wrenching her head round, she freed herself from the pressure of his hand, and uttered another piercing scream.

“Silence!” he cried, fiercely; and he was in the act of raising her from the floor, when she writhed herself nearly free, and in his effort to recover his grasp, he caught his foot on the mat and nearly fell.

It was Kate’s opportunity. With one hand she thrust at him, with the other struck at him madly, ran to the stairs, and bounded up, just reaching her room as a light gleamed from above and showed Garstang a dozen steps below, too late to overtake her before her door was dashed to and fastened.

Then, as she stood there, panting and ready to faint with horror, she heard Garstang’s angry voice and the whining replies of the housekeeper, while, though she could not grasp a word, she could tell by the tones that the woman was being abused for coming down, and was trying to make some excuse.

How that night passed Kate Wilton hardly knew, save that it was one great struggle to master a weak feeling of pitiful helplessness which prompted her to say, “I can do no more.”

At times, from utter mental exhaustion, she sank into a kind of stupor, more than sleep, from which she invariably started with a faint cry of horror and despair, feeling that she was in some great peril, and that the darkness was peopled with something against which she must struggle in spite of her weakness. It was a nightmare-like experience, constantly repeated, and the grey morning found her feverish and weak, but in body only. Despair had driven her to bay, and there was a light in her eyes, a firmness in her words, which impressed the housekeeper when she came at breakfast time.

“Master’s compliments, ma’am, and he is waiting breakfast,” she said; “and I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I thought I ought to tell you he is very angry. I never saw him like it before; and if you would be ruled by me, I’d go down and see him. You have been very hard to him, I know; and you can’t, I’m sure, wish to hurt the feelings of one who is the best of men.”

Kate sat looking away from her in silence, and this encouraged the woman to proceed.

“He was very cross when he found out that you had been persuading poor Becky to post a letter for you. He suspected her, and had her into the lib’ry and made her confess; and then he took the letter away from her. But that was nothing to what he was when he found that instead of going to bed Becky had come down again and was waiting to try and let you out I thought he would have turned her into the street at once. But oh, my dear, he is such a good man, he wouldn’t do that. But he said it was disgracefully treacherous of her. And between ourselves, my dear, it was quite impossible. Master has, I know, taken all kinds of precautions to keep you from going away. He told me that it was only a silly fit of yours, and that you didn’t mean it; and, oh, my dear, do pray, pray be sensible. Think what a good chance it is for you to marry one of the noblest and best of—”

Sarah Plant ceased speaking, and stood with her lips apart, gazing blankly at the prisoner, who had slowly turned her head and fixed her with her indignant eyes.

“Silence, you wretched creature!” she said, in a low, angry whisper. “How dare you address me like this! Go down to your master, and tell him that I will see him when he has done his breakfast.”

“Oh, please come now, ma’am.”

“Tell him to send me word when he is at liberty, and I will come.”

Kate pointed to the door, and the woman hurried out.

She returned in a few minutes, though, with a breakfast tray, which she set down without a word, and once more Kate was alone; but she started at a sound she heard at the door, and darted silently to it to slip the bolt; but before her hand could reach it there was a faint click, and she knew that the key had been taken out and replaced upon the other side. She was for the first time locked in, and a whispering told her that Garstang was there.

The struggle with her weakness had not been without its result. An unnatural calmness—the calmness of despair—had worked a change in her, and she was no longer the frightened, trembling girl, but the woman, ready to fight for all that was dear in life. She knew that she was weak and exhausted in body, and sat down with a strange calmness to the breakfast that had been brought up, eating and drinking mechanically, but thinking deeply the while of the challenge which she felt that she had sent down to Garstang, and collecting her forces for the encounter.

Quite an hour had passed before she heard a sound; and then the key was turned in the lock, and the housekeeper appeared.

“Master is in the library, ma’am,” she said, “and will be glad to see you now.”

This was said with a meaning smile, which said a great deal; but Kate did not even glance at her. She walked calmly out of her room, descended the staircase, and went straight into the library, where Garstang met her with extended hands.

“My dearest child,” he began.

She waved him aside, and walked straight to her usual place, and sat down.

“Ah!” said Garstang, as if to himself; “more beautiful than ever, in her anger. How can she wonder that she has made me half mad?”

“Will you be good enough to sit down, Mr Garstang?” she said, gazing firmly at him.

“May I not rather kneel?” he said, imploringly.

“Will you be good enough to understand, Mr Garstang,” she continued, with cutting contempt in her tones, “that you are speaking to a woman whose faith in you is completely destroyed, and not to a weak, timid girl.”

“I can only think one thing,” he whispered, earnestly, “that I am in the presence of the woman I worship, one who will forgive me everything, and become my wife.”

“Your wife, sir? I have come here this morning, repellent as the task is, to tell you what you refuse to see—that your proposals are impossible, and to demand that you at once restore me to the care of my guardian.”

“To be forced to marry that wretched boy?” he cried, passionately; “never!”

“May I ask you not to waste time by acting, Mr Garstang?” she said, with cutting irony. “You call me ‘My dear child!’ You are a man of sufficient common sense to know that I am not the foolish child you wish me to be, and that your words and manner no longer impose upon me.”

“Ah, so cruel still!” he cried; but she met his eyes with such scathing contempt in her own that his lips tightened, and the anger he felt betrayed itself in the twitching at the corners of his temples.

“You have unmasked yourself completely now, sir, and by this time you must understand your position as fully as I do mine. You have been guilty of a disgraceful outrage.”

“My love—I swear it was my love,” he cried.

“Of gold?” she said, contemptuously. “Is it possible that a man supposed to be a gentleman can stoop to such pitiful language as this? Let us understand each other at once. Your attempts to replace the fallen mask are pitiful. Come, sir, let us treat this as having to do with your scheme. You wish to marry me?”

“Yes; I adore you.”

She rose, with her brow wrinkling, her eyes half closed, and the look of contempt intensifying.

“Perhaps I had better defer what I wished to say till to-morrow, sir?”

He turned from her as if her words had lashed him, but he wrenched himself back and forced himself to meet her gaze.

“In God’s name, no!” he cried, passionately; “say what you have to say at once, and bring this folly to an end.”

She resumed her seat.

“Very well; let us bring this folly to an end. I am ready to treat with you, Mr Garstang.”

“Hah!” he cried, with a mocking laugh. “An unconditional surrender?”

“Yes, sir; an unconditional surrender,” she said calmly. “You have been playing like a gamester for the sake of my fortune.”

“And your beautiful self,” he whispered.

“For my miserable fortune; and you have won.”

“Yes,” he said, “I have won. I am the conqueror; but Kate, dearest—”

She rose slowly from her seat.

“Will you go on speaking without the mask, Mr Garstang?” she said, coldly; and she heard his teeth grit together, as he literally scowled at her now, with a look full of threats for the future.

“I am your slave, I suppose,” he said, bitterly; but she remained standing.

“I wish to continue talking to Mr Garstang, the lawyer,” she said, coldly. “If this is to continue it is a waste of words.”

He threw himself back in his chair, and she resumed hers.

“Now, sir, you are a solicitor, and learned in these matters; can you draw up some paper which will mean the full surrender of my fortune to you? and this I will sign if you set me at liberty.”

“No,” he said, quietly, “I can not draw up such a paper.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be utterly without value.”

“Very well, then, there must be some way by which I can buy my liberty. The money will be mine when I come of age.”

“Yes, there is one way,” he said, gazing at her intently.

“What is that, sir?”

“By signing the marriage register.”

“That I shall never do,” she said, rising slowly. “Once more, Mr Garstang, I tell you that this money is valueless to me, and that I am ready to give it to you for my liberty.”

“And I tell you the simple truth—that you talk like the foolish child you are. You cannot give away that which you do not possess. It is in the keeping of your uncle, and the law would not allow you to give it away like that.”

“Does the law allow you to force me to be your wife, that you may, as my husband, seize upon it?”

“The law will let you consent to be my wife,” he said, wincing slightly at her words.

“I have told you my decision,” she said, coldly.

“Temporary decision,” he said, smiling.

“And,” she continued, “I shall wait until your reason has shown you that we are not living in the days of romance. Your treatment would be horrible in its baseness if it were not ridiculous. I own that I was frightened at first, but a night’s calm thought has taught me how I stand, has given me strength of mind, and I shall wait.”

“And so shall I,” he said, gazing at her angrily as he leaned forward; but she did not shrink from his eyes, meeting them with calm contemptuous indifference; and he sprang up at last with an angry oath.

“Once more, Kate,” he said, “understand this: you must and shall be my wife. You may try and set me at defiance, shut yourself up in your room, and keep on making efforts to escape, but all is in vain. I weighed all this well before I put my plans in execution. You hear me?”

“Every word,” she said, coldly. “Now hear me, Mr Garstang. I shall never consent to be your wife.”

“We shall see that,” he cried.

“I shall not shut myself up in my room, and I shall make no further attempt to leave this house. It would be too ridiculous. Sooner or later my uncle will trace me, and call you to account. I shall keep nothing back, and if he thinks proper to prosecute you for what you have done I shall be his willing witness.”

“Then you would go back to Northwood?” he said, with a laugh.

“Yes; if my uncle were here I should return with him at once. I was an impressionable, weak girl when I listened to you that night I had faith in you then. Events since have made me a woman.”

She rose again, and took a step or two to cross the room, and he sprang up to open the door.

“We shall see,” he said, with an angry laugh.

“Thank you,” she said, calmly. “I was not going upstairs.” And to his utter amazement she passed beyond him to one of the bookshelves, took down the volume she had been studying, and returned to her seat.

He stood gazing at her, utterly confounded; but she calmly opened the book, and, utterly ignoring his presence, sat reading and turning over the leaves.

There was a profound silence in the room for a few minutes, save that the clock on the chimney-piece kept on its monotonous tick; and then Garstang strode angrily to the door, went out, and closed it heavily behind him, while Kate uttered a low, deep sigh, and with her face ghastly and eyes closing, sank back in her chair.

The tension had been agonising, and she felt as if something in her brain was giving way.

Chapter Forty Two.“Still obstinate?”Kate turned her head and looked gravely at Garstang, but made no reply.A week had passed since the scene in the library, and during that period she had calmly resumed her old position in the house, meeting her enemy at the morning and evening meals; and while completely crushing every advance by her manner, shown him that she was waiting in full confidence for the hour of her release.She never once showed her weakness, or let him see traces of the misery or despair which rendered her nights, sleeping or waking, an agony; she answered him quietly enough whenever he spoke on ordinary subjects, but at the slightest approach to familiarity, or if he showed a disposition to argue about the folly, as he called it, of her conduct, she rose and left the room, and somehow her manner impressed him so, that he dared not try to detain her.He felt, as she had told him, that it was no longer the weak girl with whom he was contending, but the firm, imperious woman; while her confidence in her own power increased as she, on more than one occasion, realised the fact that she had completely mastered.But the position remained the same, and as soon as she was alone the battle with another enemy commenced. Despair was always making its insidious approaches, sapping her very life, and teaching her that her triumph was but temporary; and she shuddered often as she thought of the hour when her strength and determination would fail.Another week commenced, and she noted that there was a marked change in Garstang. Consummate actor as he was, he had returned to his former treatment, save that he no longer played the amiable guardian, but the chivalrous gentleman, full of deference and respect for her slightest wish. He made no approaches. There was nothing in his behaviour to which the most scrupulous could have objected; but knowing full well now that he had only covered his face with a fresh mask, she was more than ever on her guard, never relaxing her watchfulness of self for a moment.She could only feel that he was waiting his time, that it was a siege which would be long, but undertaken by him in the full belief that sooner or later she would surrender.That he left the house sometimes she felt convinced; but how or when she never knew, and the greater part of his time was passed in the library, where he evidently worked hard over what seemed to be legal business. Japanned tin boxes had made their appearance, and she had more than once seen the table littered with papers and parchments; but all these disappeared into the boxes at night, and the evenings were spent much as of old, though the conversation was distant and brief.At last, about a fortnight after the setting in of the fresh regime, she was descending the stairs one afternoon, when she had proof of Garstang’s having been away, for a latch-key rattled in the door, he entered, and stood with it open, while a cabman brought in a large deed box, set it down in the hall, and the door was closed and locked. After this, Garstang lifted the box to bear it into the library, when he caught sight of Kate descending to enter the inner room, the one into which he had ushered her on the morning of her coming, and in which he now passed a great deal of his time.As their eyes met she saw that he looked pale and haggard, and it struck her at the moment that something had occurred to disturb him. Her heart leaped, for naturally enough she felt that it must be something relating to her, and in the momentary fit of exultation she felt that help was coming, and hurried into the room to hide the agitation from which she was suffering.And now for the first time since her attempt to escape, she caught sight of Becky, passing down from the upper part of the staircase, but the glance was only momentary. As soon as she saw that she was observed, the pale-faced woman drew back.There she stood, panting heavily as if suffering from some severe exertion. For she felt that Garstang would follow her in, that there would be a scene; but the minutes went by, and all was quite still, and by degrees her firmness was restored; but instinctively she felt that something was about to happen, and the dread of this, whatever it might be, set her longing to escape.And now once more the idea came that it was absurd for her to be in prison there, when it seemed as if she had only to open the door and step out, or else descend to the basement, wait till one of the tradesmen came down the area, and then seize that opportunity to go.But she had tried it and failed. The doors were always locked, save when tradesmen or postmen came; and then there was the area gate. No one ever came down.The dinner time came, and she calmly took her place. Garstang was quietly cordial, though a little more silent than customary to her; but it was plain enough that he was suffering from some unusual excitement, when he addressed the housekeeper. For he found fault with nearly everything, and finally dismissed her in a fit of anger.“Servants are so thoughtless,” he said, with an apologetic smile. “That woman knows perfectly well what I like, and yet if I do not go into a fit of anger with her now and then, she grows dilatory and careless. But there, I beg your pardon; I ought to have waited until we were alone.”Kate rose soon after and went into the library, where, as she sat reading, she was dimly conscious of voices in the passage; and assuming that the housekeeper was again being taken to task, she forced herself to think only of her book, and soon after silence and the closing of the dining-room door told her that Garstang had gone back to his wine.His stay after dinner had grown longer now, and it was quite half-past nine before he joined her, sometimes partaking of a cup of tea, but more often declining it, and sitting in silence gazing at the fire.Upon this occasion she sat until the housekeeper brought in the tea tray, placed it upon its table, while a low, hissing sound outside told her that the urn was waiting; and Kate found herself thinking that Becky must be there until her mother fetched it, and she wondered whether it would be possible to get a few words with the woman again, and if she would be too frightened to try and post another letter.Kate looked up suddenly and found that the housekeeper was watching her in a peculiar manner, but turned hurriedly away in confusion, and fetched the tea-caddy to place beside the tray. And again Kate found that she was watching her, and it seemed to her that it was with a pitying look in her eyes. This idea soon gave place to another. The woman wanted to talk to her, and her theme would be Garstang.“That will do, Mrs Plant,” she said; when the woman darted another peculiar look at her, and Kate saw the woman’s lips move, but she said nothing aloud, and left the room, leaving its occupant thoughtful and repentant. For it struck her that the woman’s eyes had a pitying sympathetic aspect, and that perhaps a few words of appeal to her better feelings would be of no avail, and that help might come through her after all.Should she ring and try?A few minutes’ thought, and the idea grew less and less vivid, till it died away.“She dare not, even if she would,” thought Kate; and calmly and methodically she proceeded to make the tea, just casually noticing that the screw which held in its place the ornamental knob on the lid of the silver tea-pot had been off and was secured in its place again with what appeared to be resin.It was a trifle which seemed to be of no importance then, as she turned on the hot water from the urn, rinsed out the pot made the tea and sat thinking while she gave it time to draw. Her thoughts were upon the old theme, the way of escape, or to find a way of sending letters to both Jenny and her uncle.She started from her reverie, poured out a cupful, took up her book again, grew immersed in it, and sat back sipping her tea from time to time, till about half the cup was finished, before she noticed that it had a peculiar flavour, but concluded that it was fresh tea, and she had made it a little too strong.The old German book was interesting, and she still read on and sipped her tea till she had finished the cup, and then sat frowning, for the last spoonful or two had the peculiar flavour intensified.It was very strange. The tea was very different. She smelt the dregs in her cup, and the odour was strongly herbaceous.She tasted it again, and it was stronger, while the flavour was now clinging to her palate.She sat thinking for a few moments, laid her book aside, and let a little water from the urn flow into the spare cup, and examined it.Pure and tasteless, just boiled water; there was nothing there; so she drew the pot to her side, opened the lid and smelt it.The odour was plain enough. A dull, vapid, flat scent, which seemed familiar, but she could not give it a name.“What strange tea!” she thought; and then the mystery was out, for she caught sight of the fastening of the lid handle. It was as it usually appeared; but the screw was loose, and it turned and rattled in her fingers. The dark, resinous patch which had held it firmly had gone, melted by the heat and steam, and hence the peculiar flavour of the tea.“How stupid!” she exclaimed; and rising from her seat, she rang the bell.The housekeeper was longer than usual in answering, and Kate was about to ring again, when the woman appeared, looking nervous and scared.“Did you ring, ma’am?” she asked; and her voice sounded weak and husky.“Yes; look at that tea-pot, Mrs Plant; smell the tea.”“Is—is anything the matter with it, ma’am?” faltered the woman.“Matter? Yes! How could you be so foolish! I noticed that something had been used to fasten the knob on the lid.”“Yes—yes, ma’am; it has worn loose. The screw has got old.”“What did you use to fasten it with—resin?”“I—I did not do anything to it, ma’am,” faltered the woman, whose face was now ghastly.“Someone did, and it melted down into the tea. It tastes horrible. Take the pot, and wash it out I must make some fresh.”“Yes, ma’am,” said the woman eagerly, glancing from the tea-pot to her and back again. “You had better make some fresh, of course.”She uttered a sigh, as if relieved, but Kate saw that her hands trembled as she took up the pot.“There, be quick. I shall not complain to Mr Garstang, and get you another scolding.”“Thank you, ma’am—no ma’am,” said the woman faintly, and she glanced behind her toward the door, and then caught at the table to support herself.“What is the matter? Are you unwell?” asked Kate.“N-no, ma’am—a little faint and giddy, that’s all,” she faltered. “I—am gettin’ better now—it’s going off.”“You are ill?” said Kate kindly. “Never mind the tea. I will go to the cellaret and get you a little brandy. There, sit down for a few moments. Yes, sit down; your face is covered with cold perspiration. Are you in the habit of turning like this?”The woman did not answer, but sat back in the chair into which she had been pressed, moaning slightly, and wringing her hands.“No-no,” she whispered wildly; “don’t go. He’s there. I dursen’t. I shall be better directly. Miss Wilton, I couldn’t help it, dear; he—he did it. Don’t say you’ve drunk any of that tea!”It was Kate’s turn to snatch at something to support her, as the horrible truth flashed upon her; and she stood there with her face ghastly and her eyes wild and staring at the woman, who had now struggled to her feet.For some moments she could not stir, but at last the reaction came, and she caught the housekeeper tightly by the arm, and placed her lips to her ear.“You are a woman—a mother; for God’s sake, help me! Quick, while there is time. Take me with you now.”“I can’t—I can’t,” came back faintly; “I daren’t; it’s impossible.”Kate thrust the woman from her, and with a sudden movement clapped her hands to her head to try and collect herself, for a strange singing had come in her ears, and objects in the room seemed a long distance off.The sensation was momentary and was succeeded by a feeling of wild exhilaration and strength, but almost instantaneously this too passed off; and she reeled, and saved herself from falling by catching at one of the easy chairs, into which she sank, and sat staring helplessly at the woman, who was now speaking to someone—she could not see whom—but the words spoken rang in her ears above the strange metallic singing which filled them.“Oh, sir, pray—pray, only think! For God’s sake, sir!”“Curse you, hold your tongue, and go! Dare to say another word, and—do you hear me?—go!”Kate was sensible of a thin cold hand clutching at hers for a moment; then a wave of misty light which she could not penetrate passed softly before her eyes, and this gradually deepened; the voices grew more and more distant and then everything seemed to have passed away.

“Still obstinate?”

Kate turned her head and looked gravely at Garstang, but made no reply.

A week had passed since the scene in the library, and during that period she had calmly resumed her old position in the house, meeting her enemy at the morning and evening meals; and while completely crushing every advance by her manner, shown him that she was waiting in full confidence for the hour of her release.

She never once showed her weakness, or let him see traces of the misery or despair which rendered her nights, sleeping or waking, an agony; she answered him quietly enough whenever he spoke on ordinary subjects, but at the slightest approach to familiarity, or if he showed a disposition to argue about the folly, as he called it, of her conduct, she rose and left the room, and somehow her manner impressed him so, that he dared not try to detain her.

He felt, as she had told him, that it was no longer the weak girl with whom he was contending, but the firm, imperious woman; while her confidence in her own power increased as she, on more than one occasion, realised the fact that she had completely mastered.

But the position remained the same, and as soon as she was alone the battle with another enemy commenced. Despair was always making its insidious approaches, sapping her very life, and teaching her that her triumph was but temporary; and she shuddered often as she thought of the hour when her strength and determination would fail.

Another week commenced, and she noted that there was a marked change in Garstang. Consummate actor as he was, he had returned to his former treatment, save that he no longer played the amiable guardian, but the chivalrous gentleman, full of deference and respect for her slightest wish. He made no approaches. There was nothing in his behaviour to which the most scrupulous could have objected; but knowing full well now that he had only covered his face with a fresh mask, she was more than ever on her guard, never relaxing her watchfulness of self for a moment.

She could only feel that he was waiting his time, that it was a siege which would be long, but undertaken by him in the full belief that sooner or later she would surrender.

That he left the house sometimes she felt convinced; but how or when she never knew, and the greater part of his time was passed in the library, where he evidently worked hard over what seemed to be legal business. Japanned tin boxes had made their appearance, and she had more than once seen the table littered with papers and parchments; but all these disappeared into the boxes at night, and the evenings were spent much as of old, though the conversation was distant and brief.

At last, about a fortnight after the setting in of the fresh regime, she was descending the stairs one afternoon, when she had proof of Garstang’s having been away, for a latch-key rattled in the door, he entered, and stood with it open, while a cabman brought in a large deed box, set it down in the hall, and the door was closed and locked. After this, Garstang lifted the box to bear it into the library, when he caught sight of Kate descending to enter the inner room, the one into which he had ushered her on the morning of her coming, and in which he now passed a great deal of his time.

As their eyes met she saw that he looked pale and haggard, and it struck her at the moment that something had occurred to disturb him. Her heart leaped, for naturally enough she felt that it must be something relating to her, and in the momentary fit of exultation she felt that help was coming, and hurried into the room to hide the agitation from which she was suffering.

And now for the first time since her attempt to escape, she caught sight of Becky, passing down from the upper part of the staircase, but the glance was only momentary. As soon as she saw that she was observed, the pale-faced woman drew back.

There she stood, panting heavily as if suffering from some severe exertion. For she felt that Garstang would follow her in, that there would be a scene; but the minutes went by, and all was quite still, and by degrees her firmness was restored; but instinctively she felt that something was about to happen, and the dread of this, whatever it might be, set her longing to escape.

And now once more the idea came that it was absurd for her to be in prison there, when it seemed as if she had only to open the door and step out, or else descend to the basement, wait till one of the tradesmen came down the area, and then seize that opportunity to go.

But she had tried it and failed. The doors were always locked, save when tradesmen or postmen came; and then there was the area gate. No one ever came down.

The dinner time came, and she calmly took her place. Garstang was quietly cordial, though a little more silent than customary to her; but it was plain enough that he was suffering from some unusual excitement, when he addressed the housekeeper. For he found fault with nearly everything, and finally dismissed her in a fit of anger.

“Servants are so thoughtless,” he said, with an apologetic smile. “That woman knows perfectly well what I like, and yet if I do not go into a fit of anger with her now and then, she grows dilatory and careless. But there, I beg your pardon; I ought to have waited until we were alone.”

Kate rose soon after and went into the library, where, as she sat reading, she was dimly conscious of voices in the passage; and assuming that the housekeeper was again being taken to task, she forced herself to think only of her book, and soon after silence and the closing of the dining-room door told her that Garstang had gone back to his wine.

His stay after dinner had grown longer now, and it was quite half-past nine before he joined her, sometimes partaking of a cup of tea, but more often declining it, and sitting in silence gazing at the fire.

Upon this occasion she sat until the housekeeper brought in the tea tray, placed it upon its table, while a low, hissing sound outside told her that the urn was waiting; and Kate found herself thinking that Becky must be there until her mother fetched it, and she wondered whether it would be possible to get a few words with the woman again, and if she would be too frightened to try and post another letter.

Kate looked up suddenly and found that the housekeeper was watching her in a peculiar manner, but turned hurriedly away in confusion, and fetched the tea-caddy to place beside the tray. And again Kate found that she was watching her, and it seemed to her that it was with a pitying look in her eyes. This idea soon gave place to another. The woman wanted to talk to her, and her theme would be Garstang.

“That will do, Mrs Plant,” she said; when the woman darted another peculiar look at her, and Kate saw the woman’s lips move, but she said nothing aloud, and left the room, leaving its occupant thoughtful and repentant. For it struck her that the woman’s eyes had a pitying sympathetic aspect, and that perhaps a few words of appeal to her better feelings would be of no avail, and that help might come through her after all.

Should she ring and try?

A few minutes’ thought, and the idea grew less and less vivid, till it died away.

“She dare not, even if she would,” thought Kate; and calmly and methodically she proceeded to make the tea, just casually noticing that the screw which held in its place the ornamental knob on the lid of the silver tea-pot had been off and was secured in its place again with what appeared to be resin.

It was a trifle which seemed to be of no importance then, as she turned on the hot water from the urn, rinsed out the pot made the tea and sat thinking while she gave it time to draw. Her thoughts were upon the old theme, the way of escape, or to find a way of sending letters to both Jenny and her uncle.

She started from her reverie, poured out a cupful, took up her book again, grew immersed in it, and sat back sipping her tea from time to time, till about half the cup was finished, before she noticed that it had a peculiar flavour, but concluded that it was fresh tea, and she had made it a little too strong.

The old German book was interesting, and she still read on and sipped her tea till she had finished the cup, and then sat frowning, for the last spoonful or two had the peculiar flavour intensified.

It was very strange. The tea was very different. She smelt the dregs in her cup, and the odour was strongly herbaceous.

She tasted it again, and it was stronger, while the flavour was now clinging to her palate.

She sat thinking for a few moments, laid her book aside, and let a little water from the urn flow into the spare cup, and examined it.

Pure and tasteless, just boiled water; there was nothing there; so she drew the pot to her side, opened the lid and smelt it.

The odour was plain enough. A dull, vapid, flat scent, which seemed familiar, but she could not give it a name.

“What strange tea!” she thought; and then the mystery was out, for she caught sight of the fastening of the lid handle. It was as it usually appeared; but the screw was loose, and it turned and rattled in her fingers. The dark, resinous patch which had held it firmly had gone, melted by the heat and steam, and hence the peculiar flavour of the tea.

“How stupid!” she exclaimed; and rising from her seat, she rang the bell.

The housekeeper was longer than usual in answering, and Kate was about to ring again, when the woman appeared, looking nervous and scared.

“Did you ring, ma’am?” she asked; and her voice sounded weak and husky.

“Yes; look at that tea-pot, Mrs Plant; smell the tea.”

“Is—is anything the matter with it, ma’am?” faltered the woman.

“Matter? Yes! How could you be so foolish! I noticed that something had been used to fasten the knob on the lid.”

“Yes—yes, ma’am; it has worn loose. The screw has got old.”

“What did you use to fasten it with—resin?”

“I—I did not do anything to it, ma’am,” faltered the woman, whose face was now ghastly.

“Someone did, and it melted down into the tea. It tastes horrible. Take the pot, and wash it out I must make some fresh.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the woman eagerly, glancing from the tea-pot to her and back again. “You had better make some fresh, of course.”

She uttered a sigh, as if relieved, but Kate saw that her hands trembled as she took up the pot.

“There, be quick. I shall not complain to Mr Garstang, and get you another scolding.”

“Thank you, ma’am—no ma’am,” said the woman faintly, and she glanced behind her toward the door, and then caught at the table to support herself.

“What is the matter? Are you unwell?” asked Kate.

“N-no, ma’am—a little faint and giddy, that’s all,” she faltered. “I—am gettin’ better now—it’s going off.”

“You are ill?” said Kate kindly. “Never mind the tea. I will go to the cellaret and get you a little brandy. There, sit down for a few moments. Yes, sit down; your face is covered with cold perspiration. Are you in the habit of turning like this?”

The woman did not answer, but sat back in the chair into which she had been pressed, moaning slightly, and wringing her hands.

“No-no,” she whispered wildly; “don’t go. He’s there. I dursen’t. I shall be better directly. Miss Wilton, I couldn’t help it, dear; he—he did it. Don’t say you’ve drunk any of that tea!”

It was Kate’s turn to snatch at something to support her, as the horrible truth flashed upon her; and she stood there with her face ghastly and her eyes wild and staring at the woman, who had now struggled to her feet.

For some moments she could not stir, but at last the reaction came, and she caught the housekeeper tightly by the arm, and placed her lips to her ear.

“You are a woman—a mother; for God’s sake, help me! Quick, while there is time. Take me with you now.”

“I can’t—I can’t,” came back faintly; “I daren’t; it’s impossible.”

Kate thrust the woman from her, and with a sudden movement clapped her hands to her head to try and collect herself, for a strange singing had come in her ears, and objects in the room seemed a long distance off.

The sensation was momentary and was succeeded by a feeling of wild exhilaration and strength, but almost instantaneously this too passed off; and she reeled, and saved herself from falling by catching at one of the easy chairs, into which she sank, and sat staring helplessly at the woman, who was now speaking to someone—she could not see whom—but the words spoken rang in her ears above the strange metallic singing which filled them.

“Oh, sir, pray—pray, only think! For God’s sake, sir!”

“Curse you, hold your tongue, and go! Dare to say another word, and—do you hear me?—go!”

Kate was sensible of a thin cold hand clutching at hers for a moment; then a wave of misty light which she could not penetrate passed softly before her eyes, and this gradually deepened; the voices grew more and more distant and then everything seemed to have passed away.

Chapter Forty Three.“Curse you! Do you hear what I say?” roared Garstang, furiously; “leave the room!”“No, sir, I won’t!” cried the housekeeper, as she stood sobbing and wringing her hands by Kate’s side. “It’s horrible; it’s shameful!”“Silence!”“No, I won’t be silenced now,” cried the woman. “You’re my master, and I’ve done everything you told me up to now, for I thought she was only holding back, and that at last she’d consent and be happy with you; but you’re not the good man I thought you were, and the poor dear knew you better than I did; and I wouldn’t leave her now, not if I died for it—so there!”“Come, come,” said Garstang, hurriedly; “don’t be absurd, Sarah. You are excited, and don’t know what you are saying.”“I never knew better what I was saying, sir,” cried the woman, passionately. “Absurd! Oh, God forgive you—you wicked wretch! And forgive me too for listening to you to-day. You took me by surprise, you did, and I didn’t see the full meaning of it all. Oh, it’s shameful!—it’s horrible! And I believe you’ve killed her; and we shall all be hung, and serve us right, only I hope poor Becky, who is innocent as a lamb, will get off.”“Look here, Sarah, my good woman; you are frightened, and without cause.”“Without cause? Oh, look at her—look at her! She’s dying—she’s dying!”“Hush, you silly woman! There, I won’t be cross with you; you’re startled and hysterical. Run into the dining-room and fetch the brandy from the cellaret.”“No. If you want brandy, sir, fetch it yourself. I don’t stir from here till this poor dear has come to, or lies stiff and cold.”Garstang ground his teeth, and rushed upon the woman savagely, but she did not shrink; and he mastered himself and took a turn or two up and down the room before facing her again, and beginning to temporise.“Look here, Sarah,” he said, in a low, husky voice; “I’ve been a good friend to you.”“Yes, sir, always,” said the woman, with a sob.“And I’ve made a home here for your idiot child.”“Which she ain’t an idiot at all, sir, but she ain’t everybody’s money; and grateful I’ve always been for your kindness, and you know how I’ve tried to show it. Haven’t I backed you up in this? Of course, you wanted to marry such a dear, sweet, young creature; but for it to come to that! Oh! shame upon you, shame!”Garstang made a fierce gesture, but he controlled himself and stopped by her again.“Now just try and listen to me, and let me talk to you, not as my old servant, but as my old friend, whom I have trusted in this delicate affair, and whom I want to go on trusting to help me.”“No, sir, no. You’ve broken all that, and I’ll never leave the poor dear—there!”“Will you hear me speak first?” said Garstang, making a tremendous effort to keep down his rage.“Yes, sir, I’ll listen,” said the woman; “but I’ll stop here.”“Now, let me tell you, then—as a friend, mind—how I am situated. It is vital to me that we should be married at once, and you must see as a woman, that for her reputation’s sake, after being here with me so long, she ought to give up all opposition. Now, you see that—”“I’d have said ‘Yes’ to it yesterday, sir,” said the woman, firmly; “but I can’t say it to-night.”“Nonsense! I tell you it is for her benefit. I only want her to feel that further resistance is useless. There, now, I have spoken out to you. You see it is for the best. To-morrow or next day we shall be married by special license. I have made all the arrangements.”“Then, now go and make all the arrangements for the poor dear’s funeral, you bad, wicked wretch!” cried the woman passionately, as she sank on her knees and clasped Kate about the waist. “Oh, my poor dear, my poor dear, he has murdered you!”“Silence, idiot!” cried Garstang, in a fierce whisper. “Can’t you see that she is only asleep?”“Asleep? Do you call this sleep? Look at her poor staring eyes. Feel her hands.—No, no, keep back. You shan’t touch her.”She turned upon him with so savage and cat-like a gesture that he stopped short with his brows rugged and his hands clenched.There was a few moments’ pause, but the woman did not wince; and Garstang felt more than ever that he must temporise again. He burst into a mocking laugh.“Oh, you silly woman,” he said. “All this nonsense about a girl’s holding off for a time. You’ve often heard her say how she liked me. You know she came here of her own free will. And I know you feel that I mean to marry her as soon as I can persuade her to come to the church. What a storm you are making about nothing! She has taken something. Well, you consented to its being given her; and you are going as frantic as if I had poisoned her.”“I know, I know,” cried the woman, “and I was a vile wretch to consent to help you.”“Stuff and nonsense, Sarah, old friend. Now look here; suppose instead of its being a harmless sleeping draught, it had been the effect of her drinking an extra glass or two of champagne. Would you have gone on then like this?”“It’s of no use for you to talk; I know what a smooth winning tongue you’ve got, as would bring a bird down out of a tree; but I know you thoroughly now; and Becky was right; you’re a base man, and you did worry and worry poor dear Mr Jenour till he shot himself. You robbed him till you’d got everything that was his, and now you’ve murdered this poor darling girl.”“That will do,” cried Garstang, stung now to the quick. “If you will be a fool you must suffer for it. Now, listen to me, woman; this is my house, and this is my wife. She came to me, and she is mine. I have told you that I will take her to the church. Now, go up to your room—I am desperate now—and if you dare to make a sound or to leave it till to-morrow morning, I’ll shoot you and your girl too.”The woman stared at him, her lips parted, and with dilated eyes.“You know what this place is. Not a sound can reach the outside. You have not a soul who would come to inquire after you, and the world would never know what had become of you. Now go.”She stood up, trembling like a leaf, fascinated by his fierce eyes, and began to walk slowly round to the other side of the table, sidewise, so as to keep as far from him as she could.“Hah!” he said, through his set teeth, “you understand me then at last. Upstairs with you at once,” and as he spoke he stepped quickly to Kate’s side, dropped on one knee, and took hold of her icy hand. But he sprang to his feet, half stunned, the next moment, for with a wild cry, the woman threw open the door as if to escape from him, but tore out the key.“Becky! Becky!” she shrieked.“Yes, mother!” came from where the tied-up face was stretched over the balustrade on the first floor.“Lock yourself in master’s room, open the window, and shriek murder until the police come.”“Damnation!” roared Garstang; and he rushed at and seized the woman, who clung to one of the bookshelves, bringing it down with a crash, and a shriek came from the upper floor.“Stop her,” roared Garstang. “There, I give in. Here, Becky, your mother will speak to you.”“Lock yourself in the room, but don’t scream till I tell you, or he comes,” cried the woman.“That will do,” said Garstang, savagely, and he loosed his hold, with the result that the woman ran back to the insensible girl, and once more clasped her in her arms.Garstang began to pace up and down the room, but paused at the door, to reach out and see Becky’s white face and eyes displaying the white rings round them, peering down from above.At the sight of him she rushed to his bedroom, and stood half inside, ready to lock herself in if he attempted to ascend.A wild cry from Sarah Plant took Garstang back to her side.“I knew it—I knew it!” she cried, bursting into a passionate fit of sobbing; “you’ve killed her. Look at her, sir, look. Oh, my poor dear, my poor dear! God forgive me! What shall I do?”A chill of horror ran through Garstang, and he bent down over his victim, trembling violently now, as he raised one eyelid with his finger, then the other, bent lower so that his cheek was close to her lips, and then caught her hand, and tried to feel her pulse.“No, no; she is only sleeping,” he said, hoarsely.“Sleeping!” moaned the woman, hysterically; “do you call that sleep?”Garstang drew a deep breath, and his horror increased.“Help me to lay her on the couch,” he said, huskily.“No, no, I’m strong enough,” groaned the woman. “Oh, my poor dear—my poor dear! he has murdered you.”She rose quickly, and in her nervous exaltation, passed her arms round the helpless figure, and lifted it like a child, to bear it to the couch, and lay it helplessly down.“Oh, help, help!” she groaned, in a piteous wail. “A doctor—fetch a doctor at once.”“No, no, go for brandy—for cold water to bathe her face.”“I don’t leave her again,” cried the woman, passionately; “I’d sooner die.”Garstang gazed down at them wildly for a few moments, and then rushed across into the dining-room, obtained the brandy, a glass, and a carafe of water, and returned, to begin bathing Kate’s temples and hands, but without the slightest result, save that her breathing became fainter, and the ghastly symptoms of collapse slowly increased.“She’s going—she’s going!” moaned the shuddering woman, who knelt by the couch, holding Kate tightly as if to keep her there. “We’ve poisoned her! we’ve poisoned her!”The panic which had seized upon Garstang increased, as he gazed wildly at his work. Strong man as he was, and accustomed to control himself, he began now to lose his head; and at last, thoroughly aghast, he caught the housekeeper by the shoulder and shook her.“Don’t leave her,” he said, in a husky whisper. “I’m going out.”“What!” cried the woman, turning and catching his arm; “going to try and escape, and leave me here?”“No, no,” he whispered; “a doctor—to fetch a doctor.”“Yes, yes,” moaned the woman; “a doctor—fetch a doctor; but it is too late—it is too late!”Garstang hardly heard her words, as he bent down and took a hurried look at Kate’s face. Then hurrying to the door, he caught sight of Becky still watching.“Go down and help your mother,” he cried, excitedly; and unfastening the door, he rushed out.

“Curse you! Do you hear what I say?” roared Garstang, furiously; “leave the room!”

“No, sir, I won’t!” cried the housekeeper, as she stood sobbing and wringing her hands by Kate’s side. “It’s horrible; it’s shameful!”

“Silence!”

“No, I won’t be silenced now,” cried the woman. “You’re my master, and I’ve done everything you told me up to now, for I thought she was only holding back, and that at last she’d consent and be happy with you; but you’re not the good man I thought you were, and the poor dear knew you better than I did; and I wouldn’t leave her now, not if I died for it—so there!”

“Come, come,” said Garstang, hurriedly; “don’t be absurd, Sarah. You are excited, and don’t know what you are saying.”

“I never knew better what I was saying, sir,” cried the woman, passionately. “Absurd! Oh, God forgive you—you wicked wretch! And forgive me too for listening to you to-day. You took me by surprise, you did, and I didn’t see the full meaning of it all. Oh, it’s shameful!—it’s horrible! And I believe you’ve killed her; and we shall all be hung, and serve us right, only I hope poor Becky, who is innocent as a lamb, will get off.”

“Look here, Sarah, my good woman; you are frightened, and without cause.”

“Without cause? Oh, look at her—look at her! She’s dying—she’s dying!”

“Hush, you silly woman! There, I won’t be cross with you; you’re startled and hysterical. Run into the dining-room and fetch the brandy from the cellaret.”

“No. If you want brandy, sir, fetch it yourself. I don’t stir from here till this poor dear has come to, or lies stiff and cold.”

Garstang ground his teeth, and rushed upon the woman savagely, but she did not shrink; and he mastered himself and took a turn or two up and down the room before facing her again, and beginning to temporise.

“Look here, Sarah,” he said, in a low, husky voice; “I’ve been a good friend to you.”

“Yes, sir, always,” said the woman, with a sob.

“And I’ve made a home here for your idiot child.”

“Which she ain’t an idiot at all, sir, but she ain’t everybody’s money; and grateful I’ve always been for your kindness, and you know how I’ve tried to show it. Haven’t I backed you up in this? Of course, you wanted to marry such a dear, sweet, young creature; but for it to come to that! Oh! shame upon you, shame!”

Garstang made a fierce gesture, but he controlled himself and stopped by her again.

“Now just try and listen to me, and let me talk to you, not as my old servant, but as my old friend, whom I have trusted in this delicate affair, and whom I want to go on trusting to help me.”

“No, sir, no. You’ve broken all that, and I’ll never leave the poor dear—there!”

“Will you hear me speak first?” said Garstang, making a tremendous effort to keep down his rage.

“Yes, sir, I’ll listen,” said the woman; “but I’ll stop here.”

“Now, let me tell you, then—as a friend, mind—how I am situated. It is vital to me that we should be married at once, and you must see as a woman, that for her reputation’s sake, after being here with me so long, she ought to give up all opposition. Now, you see that—”

“I’d have said ‘Yes’ to it yesterday, sir,” said the woman, firmly; “but I can’t say it to-night.”

“Nonsense! I tell you it is for her benefit. I only want her to feel that further resistance is useless. There, now, I have spoken out to you. You see it is for the best. To-morrow or next day we shall be married by special license. I have made all the arrangements.”

“Then, now go and make all the arrangements for the poor dear’s funeral, you bad, wicked wretch!” cried the woman passionately, as she sank on her knees and clasped Kate about the waist. “Oh, my poor dear, my poor dear, he has murdered you!”

“Silence, idiot!” cried Garstang, in a fierce whisper. “Can’t you see that she is only asleep?”

“Asleep? Do you call this sleep? Look at her poor staring eyes. Feel her hands.—No, no, keep back. You shan’t touch her.”

She turned upon him with so savage and cat-like a gesture that he stopped short with his brows rugged and his hands clenched.

There was a few moments’ pause, but the woman did not wince; and Garstang felt more than ever that he must temporise again. He burst into a mocking laugh.

“Oh, you silly woman,” he said. “All this nonsense about a girl’s holding off for a time. You’ve often heard her say how she liked me. You know she came here of her own free will. And I know you feel that I mean to marry her as soon as I can persuade her to come to the church. What a storm you are making about nothing! She has taken something. Well, you consented to its being given her; and you are going as frantic as if I had poisoned her.”

“I know, I know,” cried the woman, “and I was a vile wretch to consent to help you.”

“Stuff and nonsense, Sarah, old friend. Now look here; suppose instead of its being a harmless sleeping draught, it had been the effect of her drinking an extra glass or two of champagne. Would you have gone on then like this?”

“It’s of no use for you to talk; I know what a smooth winning tongue you’ve got, as would bring a bird down out of a tree; but I know you thoroughly now; and Becky was right; you’re a base man, and you did worry and worry poor dear Mr Jenour till he shot himself. You robbed him till you’d got everything that was his, and now you’ve murdered this poor darling girl.”

“That will do,” cried Garstang, stung now to the quick. “If you will be a fool you must suffer for it. Now, listen to me, woman; this is my house, and this is my wife. She came to me, and she is mine. I have told you that I will take her to the church. Now, go up to your room—I am desperate now—and if you dare to make a sound or to leave it till to-morrow morning, I’ll shoot you and your girl too.”

The woman stared at him, her lips parted, and with dilated eyes.

“You know what this place is. Not a sound can reach the outside. You have not a soul who would come to inquire after you, and the world would never know what had become of you. Now go.”

She stood up, trembling like a leaf, fascinated by his fierce eyes, and began to walk slowly round to the other side of the table, sidewise, so as to keep as far from him as she could.

“Hah!” he said, through his set teeth, “you understand me then at last. Upstairs with you at once,” and as he spoke he stepped quickly to Kate’s side, dropped on one knee, and took hold of her icy hand. But he sprang to his feet, half stunned, the next moment, for with a wild cry, the woman threw open the door as if to escape from him, but tore out the key.

“Becky! Becky!” she shrieked.

“Yes, mother!” came from where the tied-up face was stretched over the balustrade on the first floor.

“Lock yourself in master’s room, open the window, and shriek murder until the police come.”

“Damnation!” roared Garstang; and he rushed at and seized the woman, who clung to one of the bookshelves, bringing it down with a crash, and a shriek came from the upper floor.

“Stop her,” roared Garstang. “There, I give in. Here, Becky, your mother will speak to you.”

“Lock yourself in the room, but don’t scream till I tell you, or he comes,” cried the woman.

“That will do,” said Garstang, savagely, and he loosed his hold, with the result that the woman ran back to the insensible girl, and once more clasped her in her arms.

Garstang began to pace up and down the room, but paused at the door, to reach out and see Becky’s white face and eyes displaying the white rings round them, peering down from above.

At the sight of him she rushed to his bedroom, and stood half inside, ready to lock herself in if he attempted to ascend.

A wild cry from Sarah Plant took Garstang back to her side.

“I knew it—I knew it!” she cried, bursting into a passionate fit of sobbing; “you’ve killed her. Look at her, sir, look. Oh, my poor dear, my poor dear! God forgive me! What shall I do?”

A chill of horror ran through Garstang, and he bent down over his victim, trembling violently now, as he raised one eyelid with his finger, then the other, bent lower so that his cheek was close to her lips, and then caught her hand, and tried to feel her pulse.

“No, no; she is only sleeping,” he said, hoarsely.

“Sleeping!” moaned the woman, hysterically; “do you call that sleep?”

Garstang drew a deep breath, and his horror increased.

“Help me to lay her on the couch,” he said, huskily.

“No, no, I’m strong enough,” groaned the woman. “Oh, my poor dear—my poor dear! he has murdered you.”

She rose quickly, and in her nervous exaltation, passed her arms round the helpless figure, and lifted it like a child, to bear it to the couch, and lay it helplessly down.

“Oh, help, help!” she groaned, in a piteous wail. “A doctor—fetch a doctor at once.”

“No, no, go for brandy—for cold water to bathe her face.”

“I don’t leave her again,” cried the woman, passionately; “I’d sooner die.”

Garstang gazed down at them wildly for a few moments, and then rushed across into the dining-room, obtained the brandy, a glass, and a carafe of water, and returned, to begin bathing Kate’s temples and hands, but without the slightest result, save that her breathing became fainter, and the ghastly symptoms of collapse slowly increased.

“She’s going—she’s going!” moaned the shuddering woman, who knelt by the couch, holding Kate tightly as if to keep her there. “We’ve poisoned her! we’ve poisoned her!”

The panic which had seized upon Garstang increased, as he gazed wildly at his work. Strong man as he was, and accustomed to control himself, he began now to lose his head; and at last, thoroughly aghast, he caught the housekeeper by the shoulder and shook her.

“Don’t leave her,” he said, in a husky whisper. “I’m going out.”

“What!” cried the woman, turning and catching his arm; “going to try and escape, and leave me here?”

“No, no,” he whispered; “a doctor—to fetch a doctor.”

“Yes, yes,” moaned the woman; “a doctor—fetch a doctor; but it is too late—it is too late!”

Garstang hardly heard her words, as he bent down and took a hurried look at Kate’s face. Then hurrying to the door, he caught sight of Becky still watching.

“Go down and help your mother,” he cried, excitedly; and unfastening the door, he rushed out.

Chapter Forty Four.Pierce Leigh returned home after a long weary day of watching. From careful thought and balancing of the matter, he had long come to the conclusion that Claud Wilton’s ideas were right, and that John Garstang knew where his cousin was. But suspicion was not certainty, and though he told himself that he had no right or reason in his conduct, he could not refrain from spending all the time he could spare from his professional work in town—work that was growing rapidly—in trying to get some news of the missing girl.He was more amenable now, and ready to discuss the matter with his sister, who remained Kate’s champion and declared that she was sure there was some foul play in the matter; but he would not give way, and laughed bitterly whenever Jenny aired her optimism, and said she was sure that all would end happily after all.“Silly child!” he said bitterly. “If Miss Wilton was the victim of foul play—which I do not believe—she could have found some means of communicating with her friends.”“But she had no friends, Pierce,” cried Jenny. “She told me so more than once.”“She had you.”“Oh, I don’t count, dear; I was only an acquaintance, and it had not had time to ripen into affection on her side. I soon began to love her, but I don’t think she cared much for me.”“Ah, it was a great mistake,” sighed Leigh.“What was?” cried Jenny sharply.“Our going down to Northwood. I lost a thousand pounds by the transaction.”“And gained the dearest girl in the world to love.”“Don’t talk absurdly, child,” said Leigh, firmly. “I beg that you will not speak to me in that tone about Miss Wilton. Has Claud been again?”“I beg that you will not speak to me in that tone about Mr Wilton,” said Jenny, with a mischievous look at her brother, who glanced at her sharply.“Claud Wilton is not such a bad fellow after all, I begin to think. All that horsey caddishness will, I daresay, wear off.”“I am sorry for the poor woman who has to rub it off,” said Jenny.“You did not tell me if he had called.”“Yes, he did call.”“Jenny!”“I didn’t ask him to call, and he did not come to see me,” said the girl demurely. “He wanted you, and left his card. I put it in the surgery. I think he said he had some news of his cousin.”“Indeed?” said Leigh, starting. “When was this?”“Yesterday evening. But Pierce, dear, surely it is nothing to you. Don’t go interfering, and perhaps make two poor people unhappy.”Leigh turned upon her angrily.“What a good little girl you would be, Jenny, if you had been born without a tongue.”“Yes,” she said, “but I should not have been half a woman, Pierce, dear.”“Did he say when he would come again?”“No.”“Did he say more particularly what his news was?”“No, dear, and I did not ask him, knowing how particular you are about my being at all intimate with him.”He gave her an angry glance, but she ignored it.“Anyone else been?”“Yes; there was a message from Mrs Smithers, saying she hoped you would drop in after dinner and see her. Her daughter came—the freckly one. The buzzing in her mother’s head had begun again, and Miss Smithers says she is sure it is the port wine, for it always comes after her mother has been drinking port wine for a month.”“Of course. She eats and drinks twice as much as is good for her.—Did young Wilton say anything about Northwood?”“Yes,” said Jenny, carelessly. “The new doctor has got the parish work, but he isn’t worked to death. Oh, by the way, there’s a letter on the chimney-piece.”Leigh rose and took it eagerly, frowning as he read it.“Bad news, Pierce, dear?”“Eh? Bad? Oh, dear no; I have to meet Dr Clifton in consultation at three to-morrow, at Sir Montague Russell’s.”“Oh! I say, Pierce dear, how rapidly you are picking up a practice!”“Yes,” he said, with a sigh; and then with an effort to be cheerful, “How long will dinner be?”“Half an hour,” said Jenny, after a glance at the clock, “and then I hope they will let you have a quiet evening. You have not been at home once this week.”“Ah, yes, a quiet evening would be pleasant.”“Thinking, Pierce dear?” said Jenny, after a pause.“Yes,” he said dreamily, as he sat back with his eyes closed. “I can’t make it all fit. He rarely goes to the office, I have found that out; and from what I can learn he must be living in the country. The house I saw him go to has all the front blinds drawn down, and last time I rode by I saw a woman at the gate, but I could not stop to question her—I have no right.”“No, dear, you have no right,” said Jenny, gravely. “That was only a fancy of yours. But how strangely things do come to pass!”Leigh started, and gazed at his sister wonderingly.“What do you mean?” he said.“I was only replying to your remarks, dear, about your suspicions of this Mr Garstang.”“I? My remarks?” he said, looking at her strangely. “I said nothing.”“Why, Pierce dear, you did just now.”“No, not a word. I was asleep when you spoke.”“Asleep?”“Yes. What is there strange in that? A man must have rest, and I have been out for the last three nights with anxious cases. Was I talking?”“Yes, dear,” said Jenny, rising, to go behind the chair and lay her soft little hands upon her brother’s head. “Talking about that shut-up house, and this Mr Garstang. I thought it was not possible, and that it was very wild of you to take a house in this street so as to be near and watch him, but nothing could have been better. You are getting as busy as you used to be in Westminster. But Pierce, dear,” she whispered softly, “don’t you think we should be happier if we were in full confidence with one another—as we were once?”“No,” he said, gloomily, “I shall never be happy again.”“You will, dear, when some day we meet Kate, and all this mystery about her is at an end.”“Meet Miss Wilton and her husband,” he said, bitterly.“No, dear; if I know anything of women you will never meet Kate Wilton’s husband. Pierce, dear, I am your sister, and I have been so lonely lately, ever since we came to London. You have never quite forgiven me all that unhappy business. Don’t you think you could if you tried?”He sat perfectly silent for a few moments, and then reached round, took her in his arms, and kissed her long and lovingly.In an instant she was clinging to his neck, sobbing wildly, and he had hard work trying to soothe her.But she changed again just as quickly, and laughed at him through her tears.“There,” she cried, “now I feel ten years younger. Five minutes ago I was quite an old woman. But, Pierce, you will confide in me now, and make me quite as we used to be?”“Yes,” he said.She wound her arms tightly round his neck, and laid her face to his.“Then confess to me, dear,” she whispered. “You do dearly love Kate Wilton?”He was silent for some moments, and then slowly and dreamily his words were breathed close to her ear.“Yes; and I shall never love again.”Jenny turned up her face and kissed him, but hid it, burning, directly after in his breast.“Pierce dear,” she whispered, “I have no one else to talk to like this. May I confess something now to you?”“Why not?” he said, gently. “Confidence for confidence.”She was silent in turn for some time. Then she spoke almost in a whisper.“Will you be very angry, Pierce, if I tell you that I think I am beginning to like Claud Wilton very much?”“Like—him?” he cried, scornfully.“I mean love him, Pierce,” she said, quietly.“Jenny! Impossible!”“That’s what I used to think, dear, but it is not.”“You foolish baby, what is there in the fellow that any woman could love?”“Something I’ve found out, dear.”“In Heaven’s name, what?”“He loves me with all his heart.”“He has no heart.”“You don’t know him as I do, Pierce. He has, and a very warm one.”“Has he dared to make proposals to you again?”“No, not a word. But he isn’t like the same. It was all through you, Pierce. I made him love me, and now he looks up to me as if I were something he ought to worship, and—and I can’t help liking him for it.”“Oh, you must not think of it,” cried Leigh.“That’s what I’ve told myself hundreds of times, dear, but it will come, and—and, Pierce, dear, it’s very dreadful, but we can’t help it when the love comes. Do you think we can?”She slipped from him, and dashed the tears from her eyes, for her quick senses detected a step, and the next moment a quiet-looking maid-servant announced the dinner.No more was said, but the manner of sister and brother was warmer than it had been for months; and though he made no allusions, there was a half-reproachful, half-mocking smile on Leigh’s lips when his eyes met Jenny’s.The dinner ended, he went into their little plainly-furnished drawing-room to steal half-an-hour’s rest before hurrying off to make the call as requested; and he had not left the house ten minutes when there was a hurried ring at the bell.Jenny clapped her hands, and burst into a merry laugh.“I am glad,” she cried. “No; I ought to be sorry for the poor people. But how they are finding out what a dear, clever, old fellow Pierce is! I wonder who this can be?”She was not kept long in doubt, for the servant came up.“If you please, ma’am, there’s that gentleman again who called to see master.”“What gentleman?” said Jenny, suddenly turning nervous—“Mr Wilton?”“Yes, ma’am.”“Did you tell him your master was out?”“Yes, ma’am, and he said would you see him just a moment?”“I’ll come down,” said Jenny, turning very hard and stiff; and it seemed to be a different personage who descended to Leigh’s consulting room, where Claud was walking up and down with his hat on.“Ah, Miss Leigh!” he cried, excitedly, as he half ran to her, with his hands extended.But Jenny did not seem to see them; only standing pokeresque, and gazing at the young fellow’s hat.“Eh? What’s the matter? Oh, I beg your pardon,” he cried, catching it off confusedly; “I’m so excited, I forgot. But I can’t stop; I’ll come in again by and by and see your brother. Only tell him I’ve found her.”“Found Kate Wilton?” cried Jenny, dropping her formal manner and catching him by the arm, his hand dropping upon hers directly.“Yes, I’m as sure as sure. I’ve been on the scent for some time, and I never could be sure; but I’m about certain now, and I want your brother to come and help me, for he has a better right than I have to be there.”“My brother, Mr Wilton?” said Jenny, in a freezing tone.“Oh, I say, please don’t,” he whispered earnestly; “I am trying so hard to show you that I’m not such a cad as you used to think, and when you speak to me in that way it makes me feel as if there’s nothing, left to do but enlist, and get sent off to India, or the Crimea, or somewhere, to be killed out of the way.”“Tell me quickly, where is she?”“I can’t yet. I’m not quite sure.”“Pah!”“Ah, you wait a bit, and you’ll see; and if I do find her I shall bring her here.”“Here?” cried Jenny, excitedly.“Yes, why not? she likes you better than anybody in the world; he likes, her, and—. Here, I can’t stop. Good-bye; tell him I’ll be back again as soon as I can, for find her I will to-night.”“But Mr Wilton—Claud!”“Ah!” he cried excitedly, turning to her.“Tell me one thing.”“Everything,” he cried, wildly, “if you’ll speak to me like that. Someone I thought had got her; I’m about sure now, but—I’d give anything to stop—but I can’t.”He rushed out into the street, and Jenny returned to her room and work, trembling with a double excitement, one moment blaming herself for being too free with her visitor, the next forgetting everything in the news.“Oh, Pierce, dear Pierce! if it is only true,” she muttered, as her work dropped from her hands, and she sat hour after hour longing for her brother’s return. This was not till ten, when she was trembling with excitement, and in momentary expectation of seeing Claud Wilton return first.

Pierce Leigh returned home after a long weary day of watching. From careful thought and balancing of the matter, he had long come to the conclusion that Claud Wilton’s ideas were right, and that John Garstang knew where his cousin was. But suspicion was not certainty, and though he told himself that he had no right or reason in his conduct, he could not refrain from spending all the time he could spare from his professional work in town—work that was growing rapidly—in trying to get some news of the missing girl.

He was more amenable now, and ready to discuss the matter with his sister, who remained Kate’s champion and declared that she was sure there was some foul play in the matter; but he would not give way, and laughed bitterly whenever Jenny aired her optimism, and said she was sure that all would end happily after all.

“Silly child!” he said bitterly. “If Miss Wilton was the victim of foul play—which I do not believe—she could have found some means of communicating with her friends.”

“But she had no friends, Pierce,” cried Jenny. “She told me so more than once.”

“She had you.”

“Oh, I don’t count, dear; I was only an acquaintance, and it had not had time to ripen into affection on her side. I soon began to love her, but I don’t think she cared much for me.”

“Ah, it was a great mistake,” sighed Leigh.

“What was?” cried Jenny sharply.

“Our going down to Northwood. I lost a thousand pounds by the transaction.”

“And gained the dearest girl in the world to love.”

“Don’t talk absurdly, child,” said Leigh, firmly. “I beg that you will not speak to me in that tone about Miss Wilton. Has Claud been again?”

“I beg that you will not speak to me in that tone about Mr Wilton,” said Jenny, with a mischievous look at her brother, who glanced at her sharply.

“Claud Wilton is not such a bad fellow after all, I begin to think. All that horsey caddishness will, I daresay, wear off.”

“I am sorry for the poor woman who has to rub it off,” said Jenny.

“You did not tell me if he had called.”

“Yes, he did call.”

“Jenny!”

“I didn’t ask him to call, and he did not come to see me,” said the girl demurely. “He wanted you, and left his card. I put it in the surgery. I think he said he had some news of his cousin.”

“Indeed?” said Leigh, starting. “When was this?”

“Yesterday evening. But Pierce, dear, surely it is nothing to you. Don’t go interfering, and perhaps make two poor people unhappy.”

Leigh turned upon her angrily.

“What a good little girl you would be, Jenny, if you had been born without a tongue.”

“Yes,” she said, “but I should not have been half a woman, Pierce, dear.”

“Did he say when he would come again?”

“No.”

“Did he say more particularly what his news was?”

“No, dear, and I did not ask him, knowing how particular you are about my being at all intimate with him.”

He gave her an angry glance, but she ignored it.

“Anyone else been?”

“Yes; there was a message from Mrs Smithers, saying she hoped you would drop in after dinner and see her. Her daughter came—the freckly one. The buzzing in her mother’s head had begun again, and Miss Smithers says she is sure it is the port wine, for it always comes after her mother has been drinking port wine for a month.”

“Of course. She eats and drinks twice as much as is good for her.—Did young Wilton say anything about Northwood?”

“Yes,” said Jenny, carelessly. “The new doctor has got the parish work, but he isn’t worked to death. Oh, by the way, there’s a letter on the chimney-piece.”

Leigh rose and took it eagerly, frowning as he read it.

“Bad news, Pierce, dear?”

“Eh? Bad? Oh, dear no; I have to meet Dr Clifton in consultation at three to-morrow, at Sir Montague Russell’s.”

“Oh! I say, Pierce dear, how rapidly you are picking up a practice!”

“Yes,” he said, with a sigh; and then with an effort to be cheerful, “How long will dinner be?”

“Half an hour,” said Jenny, after a glance at the clock, “and then I hope they will let you have a quiet evening. You have not been at home once this week.”

“Ah, yes, a quiet evening would be pleasant.”

“Thinking, Pierce dear?” said Jenny, after a pause.

“Yes,” he said dreamily, as he sat back with his eyes closed. “I can’t make it all fit. He rarely goes to the office, I have found that out; and from what I can learn he must be living in the country. The house I saw him go to has all the front blinds drawn down, and last time I rode by I saw a woman at the gate, but I could not stop to question her—I have no right.”

“No, dear, you have no right,” said Jenny, gravely. “That was only a fancy of yours. But how strangely things do come to pass!”

Leigh started, and gazed at his sister wonderingly.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“I was only replying to your remarks, dear, about your suspicions of this Mr Garstang.”

“I? My remarks?” he said, looking at her strangely. “I said nothing.”

“Why, Pierce dear, you did just now.”

“No, not a word. I was asleep when you spoke.”

“Asleep?”

“Yes. What is there strange in that? A man must have rest, and I have been out for the last three nights with anxious cases. Was I talking?”

“Yes, dear,” said Jenny, rising, to go behind the chair and lay her soft little hands upon her brother’s head. “Talking about that shut-up house, and this Mr Garstang. I thought it was not possible, and that it was very wild of you to take a house in this street so as to be near and watch him, but nothing could have been better. You are getting as busy as you used to be in Westminster. But Pierce, dear,” she whispered softly, “don’t you think we should be happier if we were in full confidence with one another—as we were once?”

“No,” he said, gloomily, “I shall never be happy again.”

“You will, dear, when some day we meet Kate, and all this mystery about her is at an end.”

“Meet Miss Wilton and her husband,” he said, bitterly.

“No, dear; if I know anything of women you will never meet Kate Wilton’s husband. Pierce, dear, I am your sister, and I have been so lonely lately, ever since we came to London. You have never quite forgiven me all that unhappy business. Don’t you think you could if you tried?”

He sat perfectly silent for a few moments, and then reached round, took her in his arms, and kissed her long and lovingly.

In an instant she was clinging to his neck, sobbing wildly, and he had hard work trying to soothe her.

But she changed again just as quickly, and laughed at him through her tears.

“There,” she cried, “now I feel ten years younger. Five minutes ago I was quite an old woman. But, Pierce, you will confide in me now, and make me quite as we used to be?”

“Yes,” he said.

She wound her arms tightly round his neck, and laid her face to his.

“Then confess to me, dear,” she whispered. “You do dearly love Kate Wilton?”

He was silent for some moments, and then slowly and dreamily his words were breathed close to her ear.

“Yes; and I shall never love again.”

Jenny turned up her face and kissed him, but hid it, burning, directly after in his breast.

“Pierce dear,” she whispered, “I have no one else to talk to like this. May I confess something now to you?”

“Why not?” he said, gently. “Confidence for confidence.”

She was silent in turn for some time. Then she spoke almost in a whisper.

“Will you be very angry, Pierce, if I tell you that I think I am beginning to like Claud Wilton very much?”

“Like—him?” he cried, scornfully.

“I mean love him, Pierce,” she said, quietly.

“Jenny! Impossible!”

“That’s what I used to think, dear, but it is not.”

“You foolish baby, what is there in the fellow that any woman could love?”

“Something I’ve found out, dear.”

“In Heaven’s name, what?”

“He loves me with all his heart.”

“He has no heart.”

“You don’t know him as I do, Pierce. He has, and a very warm one.”

“Has he dared to make proposals to you again?”

“No, not a word. But he isn’t like the same. It was all through you, Pierce. I made him love me, and now he looks up to me as if I were something he ought to worship, and—and I can’t help liking him for it.”

“Oh, you must not think of it,” cried Leigh.

“That’s what I’ve told myself hundreds of times, dear, but it will come, and—and, Pierce, dear, it’s very dreadful, but we can’t help it when the love comes. Do you think we can?”

She slipped from him, and dashed the tears from her eyes, for her quick senses detected a step, and the next moment a quiet-looking maid-servant announced the dinner.

No more was said, but the manner of sister and brother was warmer than it had been for months; and though he made no allusions, there was a half-reproachful, half-mocking smile on Leigh’s lips when his eyes met Jenny’s.

The dinner ended, he went into their little plainly-furnished drawing-room to steal half-an-hour’s rest before hurrying off to make the call as requested; and he had not left the house ten minutes when there was a hurried ring at the bell.

Jenny clapped her hands, and burst into a merry laugh.

“I am glad,” she cried. “No; I ought to be sorry for the poor people. But how they are finding out what a dear, clever, old fellow Pierce is! I wonder who this can be?”

She was not kept long in doubt, for the servant came up.

“If you please, ma’am, there’s that gentleman again who called to see master.”

“What gentleman?” said Jenny, suddenly turning nervous—“Mr Wilton?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you tell him your master was out?”

“Yes, ma’am, and he said would you see him just a moment?”

“I’ll come down,” said Jenny, turning very hard and stiff; and it seemed to be a different personage who descended to Leigh’s consulting room, where Claud was walking up and down with his hat on.

“Ah, Miss Leigh!” he cried, excitedly, as he half ran to her, with his hands extended.

But Jenny did not seem to see them; only standing pokeresque, and gazing at the young fellow’s hat.

“Eh? What’s the matter? Oh, I beg your pardon,” he cried, catching it off confusedly; “I’m so excited, I forgot. But I can’t stop; I’ll come in again by and by and see your brother. Only tell him I’ve found her.”

“Found Kate Wilton?” cried Jenny, dropping her formal manner and catching him by the arm, his hand dropping upon hers directly.

“Yes, I’m as sure as sure. I’ve been on the scent for some time, and I never could be sure; but I’m about certain now, and I want your brother to come and help me, for he has a better right than I have to be there.”

“My brother, Mr Wilton?” said Jenny, in a freezing tone.

“Oh, I say, please don’t,” he whispered earnestly; “I am trying so hard to show you that I’m not such a cad as you used to think, and when you speak to me in that way it makes me feel as if there’s nothing, left to do but enlist, and get sent off to India, or the Crimea, or somewhere, to be killed out of the way.”

“Tell me quickly, where is she?”

“I can’t yet. I’m not quite sure.”

“Pah!”

“Ah, you wait a bit, and you’ll see; and if I do find her I shall bring her here.”

“Here?” cried Jenny, excitedly.

“Yes, why not? she likes you better than anybody in the world; he likes, her, and—. Here, I can’t stop. Good-bye; tell him I’ll be back again as soon as I can, for find her I will to-night.”

“But Mr Wilton—Claud!”

“Ah!” he cried excitedly, turning to her.

“Tell me one thing.”

“Everything,” he cried, wildly, “if you’ll speak to me like that. Someone I thought had got her; I’m about sure now, but—I’d give anything to stop—but I can’t.”

He rushed out into the street, and Jenny returned to her room and work, trembling with a double excitement, one moment blaming herself for being too free with her visitor, the next forgetting everything in the news.

“Oh, Pierce, dear Pierce! if it is only true,” she muttered, as her work dropped from her hands, and she sat hour after hour longing for her brother’s return. This was not till ten, when she was trembling with excitement, and in momentary expectation of seeing Claud Wilton return first.

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