Chapter Thirty Seven.For a few moments Kate Wilton was passive in Garstang’s arms. The suddenness of the act—the surprise, stunned her, and his words seemed so impossible that she could not believe her hearing. Then horror and revulsion came; she knew it was the truth, and like a flash it dawned upon her that all that had gone before, the chivalrous behaviour, the benevolence and paternal tenderness, were the clever acting of an unscrupulous man—the outcome of plans and schemes, and for what? To obtain possession of the great fortune by which she felt more than ever that she was cursed.With a faint cry of horror she thrust him back with both hands upon his breast, and struggled wildly to escape from his embrace.But the effort was vain; he clasped her tightly once again, in spite of her efforts, and covered her face, her neck, her hair, with his kisses.“Silly, timid little bird!” he whispered, as he held her there, horrified and panting; “what ails you? The first kisses, of course. There, don’t be so foolish, my darling child; they are the kisses of him who loves you, and who is going to make you his wife. Come, have I not been tender and patient, and all that you could wish, and is not this an easy solution of the difficulties by which you are surrounded?”“Mr Garstang, loose me, I insist!” she cried. “How dare you treat me so!”“I have told you, my beautiful darling. Come, come, be sensible; surely the love of one who has worshipped you from the first time he met you is not a thing to horrify you. Am I so old and repulsive, that you should go on like this? Only a few hours ago you were pressing my hands, holding your face to mine for my kisses; while now that I declare myself you begin struggling like a newly-captured bird. Why, Kate, my darling, I am talking to you like a poetic lover in a sentimental play. Really, dry lawyer as I am, I did not know that I could rise to such a flow of eloquence. Yes, pet, and you are acting too. There, that is enough for appearances, and there is no one to see, so let’s behave like two sensible matter-of-fact people. Come and sit down here.”“I wish to go—at once,” she cried, striving hard to be firm, feeling as she did that everything, in her hopeless state, depended upon herself.“We’ll talk about that quietly, when you have seated yourself. No—you will not?” he cried playfully. “Then you force me to show you that you must,” and raising her in his arms, he bore her quickly to the couch, and sat beside her, pinioning her firmly in his grasp.“There,” he said, “man is the stronger in muscles, and woman must obey; but woman is stronger in the silken bonds with which she can hold man, and then he obeys.”She sat there panting heavily, ceasing her struggles, as she tried to think out her course of action, for she shrank from shrieking aloud for help, and exposing her position to the two women in the house.“That’s better,” he said; “now you are behaving sensibly. Don’t pretend to be afraid of me. Now listen—There, sit still; you cannot get away. If you cry out not a sound could reach the servants, for I have sent them to bed; and if a dozen men stood here and shouted together their voices could not be heard through curtains, shutters, and double windows. There, I am not telling you this to frighten you, only to show you your position.”She turned and gazed at him wildly, and then dragged her eyes away in despair as he said, caressingly.“How beautiful you are, Kate! That warm colour makes you more attractive than ever, and tells me that all this is but a timid girl’s natural holding back from the embraces of the man whom she has enslaved. There is no ghastly pallor, your lips are not white, and you do not turn faint, but are strong and brave in your resistance; so now let’s talk sense, little wifie. You fancy I have been drinking; well, I have had a glass or two more than usual, but I am not as you think, only calm and quiet and ready to talk to you about what you wished.”“Another time—to-morrow. Mr Garstang, I beg of you; pray let me go to my own room now.”“To try the front door on the way, and seek to do some foolish thing? There, you see I can read your thoughts, my darling. So far from having exceeded, I am too sensible for mat; but you could not get out of the house, for the door is locked, and I have the key here. There; to begin; you would like to leave here to-night?”“Yes, yes, Mr Garstang; pray let me go.”“Where? You would wander about the streets, a prey to the first ruffian who meets you. To appeal to the police, who would not believe your story; and even if they did, where would you go? To-morrow back to Northwood, to be robbed of your fortune; to go straight to that noble cousin’s arms. No, no, that would not do, dear. Now, let’s look the position in the face. I am double your age, my child. Well, granted; but surely I am not such a repellent monster that you need look at me like that I love you, my pretty one, and I am going to marry you at once. As my wife, you will be free from all persecution by your uncle. He will try to make difficulties, and refuse to sign papers, and do plenty of absurd things; but I have him completely under my thumb, and once you are my wife I can force him to give up all control of you and yours.”“To-morrow—to-morrow,” she said, pleadingly, as she felt how hopeless it was to struggle. “I am sick and faint, Mr Garstang; pray, pray let me go to my room now.”“Not yet,” he said playfully, and without relaxing his grasp; “there is a deal more to say. You have to make me plenty of promises, that you will act sensibly; and I want these promises, not from fear, but because you love me, dear. Silent? Well, I must tell you a little more. I made up my mind to this, my child, when I came to you that night. ‘I’ll marry her,’ I said; ‘it will solve all the difficulties and make her the happiest life.’”“No, no, it is impossible, Mr Garstang,” she cried. “There, you have said enough now. You must—you shall let me go. Is this your conduct towards the helpless girl who trusted you?”“Yes,” he said laughingly, “it is my conduct towards the helpless girl who trusted me; and it is the right treatment of one who cannot help herself.”“No,” she cried desperately; “and so I trusted to you, believing you to be worthy of that trust.”“And so I am, dear; more than worthy. Kate, dearest, do you know that I am going to make you a happy woman, that I give you the devotion of my life? Every hour shall be spent in devising some new pleasure for you, in making you one of the most envied of your sex. I am older, but what of that? Perhaps your young fancy has strayed toward some hero whom your imagination has pictured; but you are not a foolish girl. You have so much common sense that you must see that your position renders it compulsory that you should have a protector.”“A protector!” she cried bitterly.“Yes; I must be plain with you, unless you throw off all this foolish resistance. Come, be sensible. To-morrow, or the next day, we will be married, and then we can set the whole world at defiance.”“Mr Garstang, you are mad!” she cried, with such a look of repugnance in her eyes that she stung him into sudden rage.“Mad for loving you?” he cried.“For loving me!” she said scornfully. “No, it is the miserable love of the wretched fortune. Well, take it; only loose me now; let me go. You are a lawyer, sir, and I suppose you know what to do. There are pens and paper. Loose me, and go and sit down and write; I promise you I will not try to leave the room; lock the door, if you like, till you have done writing.”“It is already locked,” he said mockingly; and he smiled as he saw her turn pale.“Very well,” she said calmly; “then I cannot escape. Go and write, and I will sign it without a murmur. I give everything to you; only let me go. It is impossible that we can ever meet again.”“Indeed!” he said, laughing. “Foolish child, how little you know of these things! Suppose I do want your money; do you think that anything I could write, or you could sign, would give it me without this little hand? Besides, I don’t want it without its mistress—my mistress—the beautiful little girl who during her stay here has taught me that there is something worth living for. There, there, we are wasting breath. What is the use of fighting against the inevitable? Love me as your husband, Kate. I am the same man whom you loved as your guardian. There, I want to be gentle and tender with you. Why don’t you give up quietly and say that you will come with me like a sensible little girl, and be my wife?”“Because I would sooner die,” she said, firmly.“As young ladies say in old-fashioned romances,” he cried mockingly. “There, you force me to speak very plainly to you. I must; and you are wise enough to see that every word is true. Now listen. You have not many friends; I may say I, your lover, am the only one; but when you took that step with me one night, eloping from your bedroom window, placing yourself under my protection, and living here secluded with me in this old house for all these months, what would they say? Little enough, perhaps nothing; but there is a significant shrug of the shoulders which people give, and which means much, my child, respecting a woman’s character. You see now that you must marry me.”“No,” she said calmly; “I trusted myself to the guardianship of a man almost old enough to be my grandfather. He professed to be my father’s friend, and I fled to him to save myself from insult. Will the world blame me for that, Mr Garstang?”“Yes, the world will, and will not believe.”“Then what is the opinion of the world, as you term it, worth? Now, sir, I insist upon your letting me go to my room.”As she spoke, she struggled violently, and throwing herself back over the head of the couch made a snatch at the bell-pull, with such success that the smothered tones of a violent peal reached where they were.Garstang started up angrily, and taking advantage of her momentary freedom, Kate sprang to the door and turned the key, but before she could open it he was at her side.“You foolish child!” he said, in a low angry voice; “how can you act—”Half mad with fear, she struck at him, the back of her hand catching him sharply on the lips, and before he could recover from his surprise, she had passed through the door and fled to her room, where she locked and bolted herself in, and then sank panting and sobbing violently upon her knees beside her bed.
For a few moments Kate Wilton was passive in Garstang’s arms. The suddenness of the act—the surprise, stunned her, and his words seemed so impossible that she could not believe her hearing. Then horror and revulsion came; she knew it was the truth, and like a flash it dawned upon her that all that had gone before, the chivalrous behaviour, the benevolence and paternal tenderness, were the clever acting of an unscrupulous man—the outcome of plans and schemes, and for what? To obtain possession of the great fortune by which she felt more than ever that she was cursed.
With a faint cry of horror she thrust him back with both hands upon his breast, and struggled wildly to escape from his embrace.
But the effort was vain; he clasped her tightly once again, in spite of her efforts, and covered her face, her neck, her hair, with his kisses.
“Silly, timid little bird!” he whispered, as he held her there, horrified and panting; “what ails you? The first kisses, of course. There, don’t be so foolish, my darling child; they are the kisses of him who loves you, and who is going to make you his wife. Come, have I not been tender and patient, and all that you could wish, and is not this an easy solution of the difficulties by which you are surrounded?”
“Mr Garstang, loose me, I insist!” she cried. “How dare you treat me so!”
“I have told you, my beautiful darling. Come, come, be sensible; surely the love of one who has worshipped you from the first time he met you is not a thing to horrify you. Am I so old and repulsive, that you should go on like this? Only a few hours ago you were pressing my hands, holding your face to mine for my kisses; while now that I declare myself you begin struggling like a newly-captured bird. Why, Kate, my darling, I am talking to you like a poetic lover in a sentimental play. Really, dry lawyer as I am, I did not know that I could rise to such a flow of eloquence. Yes, pet, and you are acting too. There, that is enough for appearances, and there is no one to see, so let’s behave like two sensible matter-of-fact people. Come and sit down here.”
“I wish to go—at once,” she cried, striving hard to be firm, feeling as she did that everything, in her hopeless state, depended upon herself.
“We’ll talk about that quietly, when you have seated yourself. No—you will not?” he cried playfully. “Then you force me to show you that you must,” and raising her in his arms, he bore her quickly to the couch, and sat beside her, pinioning her firmly in his grasp.
“There,” he said, “man is the stronger in muscles, and woman must obey; but woman is stronger in the silken bonds with which she can hold man, and then he obeys.”
She sat there panting heavily, ceasing her struggles, as she tried to think out her course of action, for she shrank from shrieking aloud for help, and exposing her position to the two women in the house.
“That’s better,” he said; “now you are behaving sensibly. Don’t pretend to be afraid of me. Now listen—There, sit still; you cannot get away. If you cry out not a sound could reach the servants, for I have sent them to bed; and if a dozen men stood here and shouted together their voices could not be heard through curtains, shutters, and double windows. There, I am not telling you this to frighten you, only to show you your position.”
She turned and gazed at him wildly, and then dragged her eyes away in despair as he said, caressingly.
“How beautiful you are, Kate! That warm colour makes you more attractive than ever, and tells me that all this is but a timid girl’s natural holding back from the embraces of the man whom she has enslaved. There is no ghastly pallor, your lips are not white, and you do not turn faint, but are strong and brave in your resistance; so now let’s talk sense, little wifie. You fancy I have been drinking; well, I have had a glass or two more than usual, but I am not as you think, only calm and quiet and ready to talk to you about what you wished.”
“Another time—to-morrow. Mr Garstang, I beg of you; pray let me go to my own room now.”
“To try the front door on the way, and seek to do some foolish thing? There, you see I can read your thoughts, my darling. So far from having exceeded, I am too sensible for mat; but you could not get out of the house, for the door is locked, and I have the key here. There; to begin; you would like to leave here to-night?”
“Yes, yes, Mr Garstang; pray let me go.”
“Where? You would wander about the streets, a prey to the first ruffian who meets you. To appeal to the police, who would not believe your story; and even if they did, where would you go? To-morrow back to Northwood, to be robbed of your fortune; to go straight to that noble cousin’s arms. No, no, that would not do, dear. Now, let’s look the position in the face. I am double your age, my child. Well, granted; but surely I am not such a repellent monster that you need look at me like that I love you, my pretty one, and I am going to marry you at once. As my wife, you will be free from all persecution by your uncle. He will try to make difficulties, and refuse to sign papers, and do plenty of absurd things; but I have him completely under my thumb, and once you are my wife I can force him to give up all control of you and yours.”
“To-morrow—to-morrow,” she said, pleadingly, as she felt how hopeless it was to struggle. “I am sick and faint, Mr Garstang; pray, pray let me go to my room now.”
“Not yet,” he said playfully, and without relaxing his grasp; “there is a deal more to say. You have to make me plenty of promises, that you will act sensibly; and I want these promises, not from fear, but because you love me, dear. Silent? Well, I must tell you a little more. I made up my mind to this, my child, when I came to you that night. ‘I’ll marry her,’ I said; ‘it will solve all the difficulties and make her the happiest life.’”
“No, no, it is impossible, Mr Garstang,” she cried. “There, you have said enough now. You must—you shall let me go. Is this your conduct towards the helpless girl who trusted you?”
“Yes,” he said laughingly, “it is my conduct towards the helpless girl who trusted me; and it is the right treatment of one who cannot help herself.”
“No,” she cried desperately; “and so I trusted to you, believing you to be worthy of that trust.”
“And so I am, dear; more than worthy. Kate, dearest, do you know that I am going to make you a happy woman, that I give you the devotion of my life? Every hour shall be spent in devising some new pleasure for you, in making you one of the most envied of your sex. I am older, but what of that? Perhaps your young fancy has strayed toward some hero whom your imagination has pictured; but you are not a foolish girl. You have so much common sense that you must see that your position renders it compulsory that you should have a protector.”
“A protector!” she cried bitterly.
“Yes; I must be plain with you, unless you throw off all this foolish resistance. Come, be sensible. To-morrow, or the next day, we will be married, and then we can set the whole world at defiance.”
“Mr Garstang, you are mad!” she cried, with such a look of repugnance in her eyes that she stung him into sudden rage.
“Mad for loving you?” he cried.
“For loving me!” she said scornfully. “No, it is the miserable love of the wretched fortune. Well, take it; only loose me now; let me go. You are a lawyer, sir, and I suppose you know what to do. There are pens and paper. Loose me, and go and sit down and write; I promise you I will not try to leave the room; lock the door, if you like, till you have done writing.”
“It is already locked,” he said mockingly; and he smiled as he saw her turn pale.
“Very well,” she said calmly; “then I cannot escape. Go and write, and I will sign it without a murmur. I give everything to you; only let me go. It is impossible that we can ever meet again.”
“Indeed!” he said, laughing. “Foolish child, how little you know of these things! Suppose I do want your money; do you think that anything I could write, or you could sign, would give it me without this little hand? Besides, I don’t want it without its mistress—my mistress—the beautiful little girl who during her stay here has taught me that there is something worth living for. There, there, we are wasting breath. What is the use of fighting against the inevitable? Love me as your husband, Kate. I am the same man whom you loved as your guardian. There, I want to be gentle and tender with you. Why don’t you give up quietly and say that you will come with me like a sensible little girl, and be my wife?”
“Because I would sooner die,” she said, firmly.
“As young ladies say in old-fashioned romances,” he cried mockingly. “There, you force me to speak very plainly to you. I must; and you are wise enough to see that every word is true. Now listen. You have not many friends; I may say I, your lover, am the only one; but when you took that step with me one night, eloping from your bedroom window, placing yourself under my protection, and living here secluded with me in this old house for all these months, what would they say? Little enough, perhaps nothing; but there is a significant shrug of the shoulders which people give, and which means much, my child, respecting a woman’s character. You see now that you must marry me.”
“No,” she said calmly; “I trusted myself to the guardianship of a man almost old enough to be my grandfather. He professed to be my father’s friend, and I fled to him to save myself from insult. Will the world blame me for that, Mr Garstang?”
“Yes, the world will, and will not believe.”
“Then what is the opinion of the world, as you term it, worth? Now, sir, I insist upon your letting me go to my room.”
As she spoke, she struggled violently, and throwing herself back over the head of the couch made a snatch at the bell-pull, with such success that the smothered tones of a violent peal reached where they were.
Garstang started up angrily, and taking advantage of her momentary freedom, Kate sprang to the door and turned the key, but before she could open it he was at her side.
“You foolish child!” he said, in a low angry voice; “how can you act—”
Half mad with fear, she struck at him, the back of her hand catching him sharply on the lips, and before he could recover from his surprise, she had passed through the door and fled to her room, where she locked and bolted herself in, and then sank panting and sobbing violently upon her knees beside her bed.
Chapter Thirty Eight.“Yes; what is it?”Kate Wilton raised her head from where it rested against the bed as she crouched upon the floor, and gazed round wonderingly, conscious that someone had called her by name, but with everything else a blank.There was a tapping at the door.“Yes, yes,” said Kate; and she hurried across the room.“If you please, ma’am, breakfast is waiting, and master’s compliments, and will you come down?”“Yes; I’ll be down directly,” she cried; and then she pressed her hands to her head and tried to think, but for some moments all was strange and confused, and she wondered why she should have been sleeping there upon the floor, dressed as she was on the previous night, the flowers she had worn still at her breast.The flowers crushed and bruised!They acted as the key to the closed mental door, which sprang open, and in one flash of the light which flooded her brain she saw all that had passed before she fled there, and then knelt by the bedside, praying for help, and striving to evolve some means of escape, till, utterly exhausted, nature would bear no more, and she fell asleep, to be awakened by the coming of the housekeeper.And she had told her that she would be down directly. What should she do?Hurrying to the bell, she rang, and then waited with beating heart for the woman’s footsteps, which seemed an age in coming; but at last there was a tap at the door.“Did you ring, ma’am?”“Yes; I am unwell I am not coming down.”“Can I do anything for you, ma’am?”“No.”Kate stood thinking for a few moments with her hands to her throbbing brows, for her head was growing confused again, and mental darkness seemed to be closing in; but once more the light came, and she tore the crushed flowers from her breast, put on her bonnet and mantle, and then, hurriedly, her gloves.She felt that she must get away from that house at once; she could not determine then where she would go; that would come afterwards; she could not even think then of anything but escape.Her preparations took but a few minutes, and then she went to the door and listened.All was still in the house as far as she could make out, and timidly unfastening the door, she softly opened it, to look out on the great landing, but started back, for in the darkest corner there was a figure.Only one of the statues, the one just beyond the great curtain over the archway leading to the little library; and gaining courage and determination, she stepped out, and cautiously looked down into the sombre hall.Everything was still there, and she could just see that the dining-room door was shut, a sign that Garstang was within, at his solitary breakfast.Her breath came and went as if she had been running, and she pressed her hand upon her side to try and subdue the heavy throbbing of her heart.If she could only reach the front door unheard, and steal out!She drew back, for there was a faint rattling sound, as of a cover upon a dish; then footsteps, and as she drew back she could see the housekeeper cross the hall with a small tray, enter the dining-room, whose door closed behind her, and the next minute come out, empty-handed, re-cross the hall, and disappear. Then her voice rose to where Kate stood, as she called to her daughter.Garstang must be in the dining-room, at his breakfast; and, desperate now in her dread, Kate drew a deep breath, walked silently over the soft carpet to the head of the stairs, and with her dress rustling lightly, descended, reached the hall, seeing that the door appeared to be in its customary state, and the next moment she would have been there, trying to let herself out, when she was arrested by a faint sound, half-ejaculation, half-sigh, and turning quickly, there, upon the staircase, straining over the balustrade to watch her, was Becky, with the sunlight from a stained-glass window full upon her bandaged face.Making an angry gesture to her to go back, Kate was in the act of turning once more when a firm hand grasped her wrist, an arm was passed about her waist, and with a sudden drag she was drawn into the library and the door closed, Garstang standing there, stern and angry, between her and freedom.“Where are you going?” he cried.“Away from here,” she said, meeting his eyes bravely. “This is no place for me, Mr Garstang. Let me pass, sir.”“That is no answer, my child,” he said. “Where are you going? What are your plans?”She made no answer, but stepped forward to try and pass him; but he took her firmly and gently, and forced her to sit down.“As I expected, you have no idea—you have no plans—you have nowhere to go; and yet in a fit of mad folly you would fly from here, the only place where you could take refuge; and why?”“Because I have found that the man I believed in was not worthy of that trust.”“No; because in a maddening moment, when my love for you had broken bounds, I spoke out, prematurely perhaps, but I obeyed the dictates of my breast. But there, I am not going to deliver speeches; I only wish to make you understand fully what is your position and mine. I said a great deal last night, enough to have taught you much; above all, that our marriage is a necessity, for your sake as much as mine. No, no; sit still and be calm. We must both be so, and you must talk reasonably. Now, my dear, take off that bonnet and mantle.”She made no reply.“Well, I will not trouble about that now. You will see the necessity after a few minutes. First of all, let me impress upon you the simple facts of your position here. In the first place, you are kept here by the way in which you have compromised yourself. Yes, you have; and if you drove me to it I should openly proclaim that you have been my mistress, and were striving to break our ties in consequence of a quarrel.”She made no reply, but her eyes seemed to blaze.“Yes,” he said, with a smile; “I understand your looks. I am a traitor, and a coward, and a villain; that is, I suppose, the interpretation from your point of view; but let me tell you there are thousands of men who would be ten times the traitor, coward and villain that you mentally call me, to win you and your smiles, as I shall.”He stood looking down at her with a proud look of power, and she involuntarily shrank back in her seat and trembled.“In the second place,” he continued, “I take it from your manner that you mean for a few days to be defiant, and that you will try to escape. Well, try if you like, and find how vain it is. I have you here, and in spite of everything I shall keep you safely. I will be plain and frank. For your fortune and for yourself I love you with a middle-aged man’s strong love for a beautiful girl who has awakened in him passions that he thought were dead. You will try and escape? No, you will not; for now, for the first time, I shall really cage the lovely little bird I have entrapped. You will keep to your room, a prisoner, till you place your hands in mine, and tell me that you are mine whenever I wish. You will appeal to my servants? Well, appeal to them. You will try and escape by your window? Well, try. You must know by now that it opens over a narrow yard, and an attempt to descend from that means death; but there are ways of fastening such a window as that, and this will be done, for I want to live and love, and your death would mean mine.”He paused and looked down at her in calm triumph, but her firm gaze never left his, and her lips were tightly drawn together.“I could appeal to your pity, but I will not now. I could tell you of my former loveless marriage, and my weary life with the wretched woman who entrapped me; but you will find all that out in time, and try to recompense me for the early miseries of my life, and for your cruel coldness now. There, I have nearly done. I have gambled over this, my child, and I have won, so far as obtaining my prize. To obtain its full enjoyment, I have treated you as I have since you have been here, during which time I have taught you to love me as a friend and father. I am going to teach you to love me now as a husband—a far easier task.”“No!” she cried, angrily. “I would sooner die.”“Spare your breath, my dear, and try and school yourself to the acceptance of your fate. Claud Wilton is in town, hunting for you, and do you think I will let that young scoundrel drag you into what really would be a degrading marriage? I would sooner kill him. Come, come, be sensible,” he cried, speaking perfectly calmly, and never once attempting to lessen the distance between them. “I startled you last night. See how gentle and tender I am with you to-day. I love you too well to blame you in any way. I love you, I tell you; and I know quite well that the passion is still latent in your breast; but I know, too, that it will bud and blossom, and that some day you will wonder at your conduct toward one who has proved his love for you. I cannot blame myself, even if I have been driven to win you by a coup. Who would not have done the same, I say again? You have charmed me by your beauty, and by the beauties of your intellect; and once more I tell you gently and lovingly that you must now accept your fate, and look upon me as a friend, father, lover, husband, all in one. Kate, dearest, you shall not repent it, so be as gentle and kind to me as I am to you.”He ceased, and she sat there gazing at him fixedly still.“Now,” he said, changing his manner and tone, “we must have no more clouds between us. You need not shrink and begin beating your wings, little bird. I will be patient, and we will go on, if you wish it, where we left off last evening when you came here from the dining-room. I am guardian again until you have thought all this over, and are ready to accept the inevitable. We must not have you ill, and wanting the doctor.”A thrill ran through her, and as if it were natural to turn to him who came when she was once before sorely in need of help, she recalled the firm, calm face of Pierce Leigh; but a faint flush coloured her cheek, as if in shame for her thought.Garstang saw the brightening of her face, and interpreted it wrongly.“A means of escape from me?” he said. “What a foolish, childish thought! Too romantic for a woman of your strength of mind, Kate. No, I shall not let you leave me like that. There, you must be faint and hungry; so am I. Take off your things, and come and face your guardian at the table, in the old fashion. No? You prefer to go back to your room this morning? Well, let it be so. Only try and be sensible. It is so childish to let the servants be witnesses to such a little trouble as this. There, your head is bad, of course; and you altered your mind about going for a walk.”He opened the door for her to pass out, and then rang the bell.“Mrs Plant answered the bell last night,” he said, meaningly. “Poor woman, she had gone to bed, and came here in alarm; so she knows that you were taken ill and went to your room. I would not let her come and disturb you, as you were so agitated.—Ah, Mrs Plant, your mistress does not feel equal to staying down to breakfast. Go and get a tray ready, and take it up to her in her room.”The woman hurried to carry out Garstang’s wishes, and Kate rose to her feet, while he drew back to let her pass.“The front door is fastened,” he said, with a quiet smile, “and there is no window that you can open to call for help. Even if you could, and people came to inquire what was the matter, a few words respecting the sick and delirious young lady upstairs would send them away. It is curious what a wholesome dread ordinary folk have of an illness being infectious. Will you come down to dinner, or sooner, dearest?” he said, sinking his voice to a whisper, full of tenderness. “I shall be here, and only too glad to welcome you when you come, sweet dove, with the olive branch of peace between us, and take it as the symbol of love.”A prisoner, indeed, and the chains seemed to fetter and weigh her down as, without a word, her eyes fixed and gazing straight before her, she walked by him into the hall, mastered the wild agonising desire to fling herself at the door and call for help, and went slowly to the stairs, catching sight of the pale bandaged face peering over the balustrade and then drawn back to disappear.But as Kate saw it a gleam of hope shot through the darkness. Poor Becky—letters—appeals for help to Jenny Leigh. Could she not get a message sent by the hand of the strange-looking, shrinking girl?She went on steadily up towards her room, without once turning her head, feeling conscious that Garstang was standing below watching her; but by the time she reached the first landing there was the sound of a faint cough and steps crossing to the dining-room, and she breathed more freely, and glanced downward as she turned to ascend the second flight.The hall was vacant, and looking toward the doorway through which Becky had glided, she called to her in a low, excited whisper:“Becky! Becky!”But there was no reply, and hurrying up the rest of the way she followed the girl, entered the room into which she had passed, and found her standing in the attitude of one listening intently.“Becky, I want to speak to you,” she whispered; but the girl darted to a door at the other end, and was gliding through into the dressing-room, through which she could reach the staircase.This time Kate was too quick for her, and caught her by the dress, the girl uttering a low moan, full of despair, and hanging away with all her might, keeping her face averted the while.“Don’t, don’t do that,” whispered Kate, excitedly. “Why are you afraid of me?”“Let me go; oh! please let me go.”“Yes, directly,” whispered Kate, still holding her tightly; “but please, Becky, I want you to help me. I am in great trouble, dear—great trouble.”“Eh?” said the girl, faintly, “you?”“Yes, and I do so want help. Will you do something for me?”“No, I can’t,” whispered the girl. “I’m no use; I oughtn’t to be here; don’t look at me, please; and pray, pray let me go.”“Yes, I will, dear; but you will help me. Come to my room when your mother has been.”The girl turned her white grotesque face, and stared at her with dilated eyes.“You will, won’t you?”Becky shook her head.“Not to help a poor sister in distress?” said Kate, appealingly.“You ain’t my sister, and I must go. If he knew I’d talked to you he’d be so cross.”With a sudden snatch the girl released her dress and fled, leaving Kate striving hard to keep back her tears, as she went on to the broad landing and reached her room, thinking of the little library and the account she had heard of the former occupant, who found life too weary for him, and had sought rest.Her first impulse was to lock her door, but feeling that she had nothing immediate to fear, and that perhaps a display of acquiescence in Garstang’s plans might help her to escape, she sat down to think, or rather try to think, for her brain was in a whirl, and thought crowded out thought before she had time to grasp one.But she had hardly commenced her fight when there was a tap at the door, and Sarah Plant entered with a breakfast tray, looking smiling and animated.“I’m so sorry, ma’am; but I’ve made you a very strong cup of tea, and your breakfast will do you good. There. Now let me help you off with your things.”“No, no, never mind now. Mrs Plant, will you do something to help me?”“Of course, I will, ma’am. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”“Why are you smiling at me in that way?”“Me smiling, ma’am? Was I? Oh, nothing.”“I insist upon your telling me. Ah, you know what has taken place.”“Well, well, ma’am, please don’t be angry with me for it. You did give the bell such a peal last night, you quite startled me.”“Then you do know everything?”“Well, yes, ma’am; you see, I couldn’t help it. Me and poor Becky always knew that you were to be the new missis here from the day you came.”“No, it is impossible. I must go away from here at once.”“Lor’, my dear, don’t you take it like that! Why, what is there to mind? Master is one of the dearest and best of men; and think what a chance it is for you, and what a home.”“Oh, silence; don’t talk like that! I tell you it is impossible.”“Ah, that’s because you’re thinking about Master being a bit older than you are. But what of that? My poor dear man was twice as old as me, and he never had but one fault—he would die too soon.”“I tell you it is impossible, my good woman,” cried Kate, imperiously. “I have been entrapped and deceived, and I call upon you, as a woman, to help me.”“Yes, ma’am, of course I’ll help you.”“Ah! then wait here while I write a few lines to one of my father’s old friends.”“A letter? Yes, ma’am; but if you please, Master said that all letters were to be taken to him.”“As they were before?” said Kate, with a light flashing in upon her clouded brain.“Yes, ma’am; he said so a week or two before you came.”“Planned, planned, planned!” muttered Kate, despairingly.“Yes, ma’am, and of course I must take them to him. You see, he is my master, and I will say this of him—a better and kinder master never lived. Oh, my dear, don’t be so young and foolish. You couldn’t do better than what he wishes, and make him happy, and yourself, too.”“Will you help me, woman, to get away from here? I will pay you enough to make you rich if you will,” said Kate, desperately.“I will do anything I can for you, ma’am, that isn’t going against Master; of that you may be sure.”“Then will you post a couple of letters for me?” cried Kate, desperately.“No, ma’am, please, I mustn’t do that.”“Go away,” cried Kate, fiercely now. “Leave me to myself.”“Oh, my dear, don’t, pray, go on like that I know you’re young, and the idea frightens you; but it isn’t such a very dreadful thing to be married to a real good man.”Kate darted to the door, flung it open, and stood with flashing eyes, pointing outward.“Oh, yes, ma’am, of course I’ll go; but do, pray, take my advice. You see, you’re bound to marry him now, and—”The door was closed upon her, and Kate began to pace up and down, like some timid creature freshly awakened to the fact of its being caged, and grown desperate at the thought.“Helpless, and a prisoner!” she groaned to herself. “What shall I do? Is there no way of escape?” And once more the thought of Jenny Leigh and her brother came to her mind, and the feeling grew stronger that she might find help there.But it seemed impossible unless she could write and stamp a letter and throw it from the window, trusting to some one to pick it up and post it.No; the idea seemed weak and vain, and she cast it from her, as she paced up and down, with her hands clasped and pressed to her throbbing breast.“There is no help—no help!” she moaned, and then uttered a faint cry of alarm, for the door behind her was softly opened, and the idea that it was Garstang flashed through her brain as she looked wildly round.Becky’s white tied-up face was just thrust in, and the door held tightly to, as if about to act as a perpendicular guillotine and shave through her neck.
“Yes; what is it?”
Kate Wilton raised her head from where it rested against the bed as she crouched upon the floor, and gazed round wonderingly, conscious that someone had called her by name, but with everything else a blank.
There was a tapping at the door.
“Yes, yes,” said Kate; and she hurried across the room.
“If you please, ma’am, breakfast is waiting, and master’s compliments, and will you come down?”
“Yes; I’ll be down directly,” she cried; and then she pressed her hands to her head and tried to think, but for some moments all was strange and confused, and she wondered why she should have been sleeping there upon the floor, dressed as she was on the previous night, the flowers she had worn still at her breast.
The flowers crushed and bruised!
They acted as the key to the closed mental door, which sprang open, and in one flash of the light which flooded her brain she saw all that had passed before she fled there, and then knelt by the bedside, praying for help, and striving to evolve some means of escape, till, utterly exhausted, nature would bear no more, and she fell asleep, to be awakened by the coming of the housekeeper.
And she had told her that she would be down directly. What should she do?
Hurrying to the bell, she rang, and then waited with beating heart for the woman’s footsteps, which seemed an age in coming; but at last there was a tap at the door.
“Did you ring, ma’am?”
“Yes; I am unwell I am not coming down.”
“Can I do anything for you, ma’am?”
“No.”
Kate stood thinking for a few moments with her hands to her throbbing brows, for her head was growing confused again, and mental darkness seemed to be closing in; but once more the light came, and she tore the crushed flowers from her breast, put on her bonnet and mantle, and then, hurriedly, her gloves.
She felt that she must get away from that house at once; she could not determine then where she would go; that would come afterwards; she could not even think then of anything but escape.
Her preparations took but a few minutes, and then she went to the door and listened.
All was still in the house as far as she could make out, and timidly unfastening the door, she softly opened it, to look out on the great landing, but started back, for in the darkest corner there was a figure.
Only one of the statues, the one just beyond the great curtain over the archway leading to the little library; and gaining courage and determination, she stepped out, and cautiously looked down into the sombre hall.
Everything was still there, and she could just see that the dining-room door was shut, a sign that Garstang was within, at his solitary breakfast.
Her breath came and went as if she had been running, and she pressed her hand upon her side to try and subdue the heavy throbbing of her heart.
If she could only reach the front door unheard, and steal out!
She drew back, for there was a faint rattling sound, as of a cover upon a dish; then footsteps, and as she drew back she could see the housekeeper cross the hall with a small tray, enter the dining-room, whose door closed behind her, and the next minute come out, empty-handed, re-cross the hall, and disappear. Then her voice rose to where Kate stood, as she called to her daughter.
Garstang must be in the dining-room, at his breakfast; and, desperate now in her dread, Kate drew a deep breath, walked silently over the soft carpet to the head of the stairs, and with her dress rustling lightly, descended, reached the hall, seeing that the door appeared to be in its customary state, and the next moment she would have been there, trying to let herself out, when she was arrested by a faint sound, half-ejaculation, half-sigh, and turning quickly, there, upon the staircase, straining over the balustrade to watch her, was Becky, with the sunlight from a stained-glass window full upon her bandaged face.
Making an angry gesture to her to go back, Kate was in the act of turning once more when a firm hand grasped her wrist, an arm was passed about her waist, and with a sudden drag she was drawn into the library and the door closed, Garstang standing there, stern and angry, between her and freedom.
“Where are you going?” he cried.
“Away from here,” she said, meeting his eyes bravely. “This is no place for me, Mr Garstang. Let me pass, sir.”
“That is no answer, my child,” he said. “Where are you going? What are your plans?”
She made no answer, but stepped forward to try and pass him; but he took her firmly and gently, and forced her to sit down.
“As I expected, you have no idea—you have no plans—you have nowhere to go; and yet in a fit of mad folly you would fly from here, the only place where you could take refuge; and why?”
“Because I have found that the man I believed in was not worthy of that trust.”
“No; because in a maddening moment, when my love for you had broken bounds, I spoke out, prematurely perhaps, but I obeyed the dictates of my breast. But there, I am not going to deliver speeches; I only wish to make you understand fully what is your position and mine. I said a great deal last night, enough to have taught you much; above all, that our marriage is a necessity, for your sake as much as mine. No, no; sit still and be calm. We must both be so, and you must talk reasonably. Now, my dear, take off that bonnet and mantle.”
She made no reply.
“Well, I will not trouble about that now. You will see the necessity after a few minutes. First of all, let me impress upon you the simple facts of your position here. In the first place, you are kept here by the way in which you have compromised yourself. Yes, you have; and if you drove me to it I should openly proclaim that you have been my mistress, and were striving to break our ties in consequence of a quarrel.”
She made no reply, but her eyes seemed to blaze.
“Yes,” he said, with a smile; “I understand your looks. I am a traitor, and a coward, and a villain; that is, I suppose, the interpretation from your point of view; but let me tell you there are thousands of men who would be ten times the traitor, coward and villain that you mentally call me, to win you and your smiles, as I shall.”
He stood looking down at her with a proud look of power, and she involuntarily shrank back in her seat and trembled.
“In the second place,” he continued, “I take it from your manner that you mean for a few days to be defiant, and that you will try to escape. Well, try if you like, and find how vain it is. I have you here, and in spite of everything I shall keep you safely. I will be plain and frank. For your fortune and for yourself I love you with a middle-aged man’s strong love for a beautiful girl who has awakened in him passions that he thought were dead. You will try and escape? No, you will not; for now, for the first time, I shall really cage the lovely little bird I have entrapped. You will keep to your room, a prisoner, till you place your hands in mine, and tell me that you are mine whenever I wish. You will appeal to my servants? Well, appeal to them. You will try and escape by your window? Well, try. You must know by now that it opens over a narrow yard, and an attempt to descend from that means death; but there are ways of fastening such a window as that, and this will be done, for I want to live and love, and your death would mean mine.”
He paused and looked down at her in calm triumph, but her firm gaze never left his, and her lips were tightly drawn together.
“I could appeal to your pity, but I will not now. I could tell you of my former loveless marriage, and my weary life with the wretched woman who entrapped me; but you will find all that out in time, and try to recompense me for the early miseries of my life, and for your cruel coldness now. There, I have nearly done. I have gambled over this, my child, and I have won, so far as obtaining my prize. To obtain its full enjoyment, I have treated you as I have since you have been here, during which time I have taught you to love me as a friend and father. I am going to teach you to love me now as a husband—a far easier task.”
“No!” she cried, angrily. “I would sooner die.”
“Spare your breath, my dear, and try and school yourself to the acceptance of your fate. Claud Wilton is in town, hunting for you, and do you think I will let that young scoundrel drag you into what really would be a degrading marriage? I would sooner kill him. Come, come, be sensible,” he cried, speaking perfectly calmly, and never once attempting to lessen the distance between them. “I startled you last night. See how gentle and tender I am with you to-day. I love you too well to blame you in any way. I love you, I tell you; and I know quite well that the passion is still latent in your breast; but I know, too, that it will bud and blossom, and that some day you will wonder at your conduct toward one who has proved his love for you. I cannot blame myself, even if I have been driven to win you by a coup. Who would not have done the same, I say again? You have charmed me by your beauty, and by the beauties of your intellect; and once more I tell you gently and lovingly that you must now accept your fate, and look upon me as a friend, father, lover, husband, all in one. Kate, dearest, you shall not repent it, so be as gentle and kind to me as I am to you.”
He ceased, and she sat there gazing at him fixedly still.
“Now,” he said, changing his manner and tone, “we must have no more clouds between us. You need not shrink and begin beating your wings, little bird. I will be patient, and we will go on, if you wish it, where we left off last evening when you came here from the dining-room. I am guardian again until you have thought all this over, and are ready to accept the inevitable. We must not have you ill, and wanting the doctor.”
A thrill ran through her, and as if it were natural to turn to him who came when she was once before sorely in need of help, she recalled the firm, calm face of Pierce Leigh; but a faint flush coloured her cheek, as if in shame for her thought.
Garstang saw the brightening of her face, and interpreted it wrongly.
“A means of escape from me?” he said. “What a foolish, childish thought! Too romantic for a woman of your strength of mind, Kate. No, I shall not let you leave me like that. There, you must be faint and hungry; so am I. Take off your things, and come and face your guardian at the table, in the old fashion. No? You prefer to go back to your room this morning? Well, let it be so. Only try and be sensible. It is so childish to let the servants be witnesses to such a little trouble as this. There, your head is bad, of course; and you altered your mind about going for a walk.”
He opened the door for her to pass out, and then rang the bell.
“Mrs Plant answered the bell last night,” he said, meaningly. “Poor woman, she had gone to bed, and came here in alarm; so she knows that you were taken ill and went to your room. I would not let her come and disturb you, as you were so agitated.—Ah, Mrs Plant, your mistress does not feel equal to staying down to breakfast. Go and get a tray ready, and take it up to her in her room.”
The woman hurried to carry out Garstang’s wishes, and Kate rose to her feet, while he drew back to let her pass.
“The front door is fastened,” he said, with a quiet smile, “and there is no window that you can open to call for help. Even if you could, and people came to inquire what was the matter, a few words respecting the sick and delirious young lady upstairs would send them away. It is curious what a wholesome dread ordinary folk have of an illness being infectious. Will you come down to dinner, or sooner, dearest?” he said, sinking his voice to a whisper, full of tenderness. “I shall be here, and only too glad to welcome you when you come, sweet dove, with the olive branch of peace between us, and take it as the symbol of love.”
A prisoner, indeed, and the chains seemed to fetter and weigh her down as, without a word, her eyes fixed and gazing straight before her, she walked by him into the hall, mastered the wild agonising desire to fling herself at the door and call for help, and went slowly to the stairs, catching sight of the pale bandaged face peering over the balustrade and then drawn back to disappear.
But as Kate saw it a gleam of hope shot through the darkness. Poor Becky—letters—appeals for help to Jenny Leigh. Could she not get a message sent by the hand of the strange-looking, shrinking girl?
She went on steadily up towards her room, without once turning her head, feeling conscious that Garstang was standing below watching her; but by the time she reached the first landing there was the sound of a faint cough and steps crossing to the dining-room, and she breathed more freely, and glanced downward as she turned to ascend the second flight.
The hall was vacant, and looking toward the doorway through which Becky had glided, she called to her in a low, excited whisper:
“Becky! Becky!”
But there was no reply, and hurrying up the rest of the way she followed the girl, entered the room into which she had passed, and found her standing in the attitude of one listening intently.
“Becky, I want to speak to you,” she whispered; but the girl darted to a door at the other end, and was gliding through into the dressing-room, through which she could reach the staircase.
This time Kate was too quick for her, and caught her by the dress, the girl uttering a low moan, full of despair, and hanging away with all her might, keeping her face averted the while.
“Don’t, don’t do that,” whispered Kate, excitedly. “Why are you afraid of me?”
“Let me go; oh! please let me go.”
“Yes, directly,” whispered Kate, still holding her tightly; “but please, Becky, I want you to help me. I am in great trouble, dear—great trouble.”
“Eh?” said the girl, faintly, “you?”
“Yes, and I do so want help. Will you do something for me?”
“No, I can’t,” whispered the girl. “I’m no use; I oughtn’t to be here; don’t look at me, please; and pray, pray let me go.”
“Yes, I will, dear; but you will help me. Come to my room when your mother has been.”
The girl turned her white grotesque face, and stared at her with dilated eyes.
“You will, won’t you?”
Becky shook her head.
“Not to help a poor sister in distress?” said Kate, appealingly.
“You ain’t my sister, and I must go. If he knew I’d talked to you he’d be so cross.”
With a sudden snatch the girl released her dress and fled, leaving Kate striving hard to keep back her tears, as she went on to the broad landing and reached her room, thinking of the little library and the account she had heard of the former occupant, who found life too weary for him, and had sought rest.
Her first impulse was to lock her door, but feeling that she had nothing immediate to fear, and that perhaps a display of acquiescence in Garstang’s plans might help her to escape, she sat down to think, or rather try to think, for her brain was in a whirl, and thought crowded out thought before she had time to grasp one.
But she had hardly commenced her fight when there was a tap at the door, and Sarah Plant entered with a breakfast tray, looking smiling and animated.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am; but I’ve made you a very strong cup of tea, and your breakfast will do you good. There. Now let me help you off with your things.”
“No, no, never mind now. Mrs Plant, will you do something to help me?”
“Of course, I will, ma’am. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
“Why are you smiling at me in that way?”
“Me smiling, ma’am? Was I? Oh, nothing.”
“I insist upon your telling me. Ah, you know what has taken place.”
“Well, well, ma’am, please don’t be angry with me for it. You did give the bell such a peal last night, you quite startled me.”
“Then you do know everything?”
“Well, yes, ma’am; you see, I couldn’t help it. Me and poor Becky always knew that you were to be the new missis here from the day you came.”
“No, it is impossible. I must go away from here at once.”
“Lor’, my dear, don’t you take it like that! Why, what is there to mind? Master is one of the dearest and best of men; and think what a chance it is for you, and what a home.”
“Oh, silence; don’t talk like that! I tell you it is impossible.”
“Ah, that’s because you’re thinking about Master being a bit older than you are. But what of that? My poor dear man was twice as old as me, and he never had but one fault—he would die too soon.”
“I tell you it is impossible, my good woman,” cried Kate, imperiously. “I have been entrapped and deceived, and I call upon you, as a woman, to help me.”
“Yes, ma’am, of course I’ll help you.”
“Ah! then wait here while I write a few lines to one of my father’s old friends.”
“A letter? Yes, ma’am; but if you please, Master said that all letters were to be taken to him.”
“As they were before?” said Kate, with a light flashing in upon her clouded brain.
“Yes, ma’am; he said so a week or two before you came.”
“Planned, planned, planned!” muttered Kate, despairingly.
“Yes, ma’am, and of course I must take them to him. You see, he is my master, and I will say this of him—a better and kinder master never lived. Oh, my dear, don’t be so young and foolish. You couldn’t do better than what he wishes, and make him happy, and yourself, too.”
“Will you help me, woman, to get away from here? I will pay you enough to make you rich if you will,” said Kate, desperately.
“I will do anything I can for you, ma’am, that isn’t going against Master; of that you may be sure.”
“Then will you post a couple of letters for me?” cried Kate, desperately.
“No, ma’am, please, I mustn’t do that.”
“Go away,” cried Kate, fiercely now. “Leave me to myself.”
“Oh, my dear, don’t, pray, go on like that I know you’re young, and the idea frightens you; but it isn’t such a very dreadful thing to be married to a real good man.”
Kate darted to the door, flung it open, and stood with flashing eyes, pointing outward.
“Oh, yes, ma’am, of course I’ll go; but do, pray, take my advice. You see, you’re bound to marry him now, and—”
The door was closed upon her, and Kate began to pace up and down, like some timid creature freshly awakened to the fact of its being caged, and grown desperate at the thought.
“Helpless, and a prisoner!” she groaned to herself. “What shall I do? Is there no way of escape?” And once more the thought of Jenny Leigh and her brother came to her mind, and the feeling grew stronger that she might find help there.
But it seemed impossible unless she could write and stamp a letter and throw it from the window, trusting to some one to pick it up and post it.
No; the idea seemed weak and vain, and she cast it from her, as she paced up and down, with her hands clasped and pressed to her throbbing breast.
“There is no help—no help!” she moaned, and then uttered a faint cry of alarm, for the door behind her was softly opened, and the idea that it was Garstang flashed through her brain as she looked wildly round.
Becky’s white tied-up face was just thrust in, and the door held tightly to, as if about to act as a perpendicular guillotine and shave through her neck.
Chapter Thirty Nine.Kate uttered a gasp of relief on finding her fear needless, and darted towards the door, when, to her despair, the grotesque head was snatched back.“Becky! Becky!” she cried piteously, as the door was closing; and she stood still, not daring to approach.Her action had its effect, for the door was slowly pressed open again, and the bow of the washed-out cotton handkerchief which bandaged the woman’s face gradually appeared, the ends, which stuck up like a small pair of horns, trembling visibly. Then by very small degrees the woman’s forehead and the rest of the face appeared, with the eyes showing the white all round, as their owner gazed at the prisoner with her usual scared look intensified.“Pray come in, Becky,” said Kate, softly; and she drew back towards a chair, so as to try and inspire a little confidence.The head was slowly shaken, and the door drawn once more tightly against the woman’s long thin neck.“Whatcher want?” she said, faintly.“I want you to come in and talk to me,” said Kate in a low, appealing tone. “I want you to help me.”“Dursn’t.”“Yes, yes, you dare. Pray, pray don’t say that I have no one to ask but you. Oh, Becky, Becky, I am so unhappy. If you have a woman’s heart within your breast, have pity on me!”“Gug!”A spasm contracted the pallid face as a violent sob escaped from her lips, and the tears began to flow from the dilated eyes, and were accompanied by unpleasant sniffs.“Don’t make me cr-cr-cry, miss, please.”“No, no, don’t cry, Becky dear, pray,” whispered Kate, anxiously.“You make me, miss—going on like that; and d-don’t call me dear, please. I ain’t dear to nobody; I’m a miserable wretch.”“I always pitied you, Becky, but you never would let me be kind to you.”“N-no, miss. It don’t do no good. On’y makes me mis’rable.”“But I must be; I will be kind to you, Becky, and try and make you happy,” whispered Kate.“Tain’t to be done, miss, till I die,” said the woman, sadly; and then there was a triumphant light in her eyes, and her face lit up as she said more firmly, “but I’m going to be happy then.”“Yes, yes, and I’ll try to make you happy while you live; but you will help me, dear?”The poor creature shook her head.“Yes, you will—I’m sure you will,” pleaded Kate. “But pray come in.”“Dursn’t, miss.”“But I am in such trouble, Becky.”“Yes, I know; he wants to marry you, and he’s going to keep you locked up till he does. I know.”“Yes, yes; and I want to get away.”“But you can’t,” whispered the woman, and she withdrew her head, and Kate in her despair thought she had gone. But the head reappeared slowly. “Nobody watching,” she whispered.“I must go away, and you must help me, Becky,” whispered Kate.“It’s no good. He won’t let you, miss. But don’t you marry him.”“Never!” cried Kate.“Hush, or they’ll hear you; and mother’s siding with him, and going to help him. She says he’s an angel, but he’s all smooth smiles, and talks to you like a saint, but he’s a horrid wretch.”“Yes, yes. But now listen to me.”“Yes, I’m a-listening, miss. It’s all because you’re so pretty and handsome, and got lots o’ money, aintcher?”“Yes, unhappily,” sighed Kate.“That’s what he wants. He got all poor old master’s money, and the house and furniture out of him.”“He did?” whispered Kate, excitedly.“Yes, miss; I know. Mother says it’s all nonsense, and that we ought to love him, because he’s such a good man. But I know better. Poor old master used to tell me when I took him up his letters: ‘Ah, Becky, my poor girl, you are disappointed and unhappy,’ he says, ‘but I’m more unhappy still. That man won’t be satisfied till he has ground the last farthing out of me, and there’s nothing left but my corpse.’ I didn’t believe him, and I said, ‘Don’t let him have it, sir.’ ‘Ah, Becky,’ he says, ‘I’m obliged; signed papers are stronger than iron chains,’ he says, ‘and he’s always dragging at the end. But he shall have it all, and heavy pounds o’ flesh at the end, and the bones too.’ I didn’t know what he meant, miss; and I didn’t believe as anyone could be as unlucky as me. But I believed him at last, when I went to his room and found him dead on the floor; and then I knew he must be worse than I was, for I couldn’t have done what he did.”“Becky,” whispered Kate, fixing the trembling woman with her eyes, “I can understand how people who are very unhappy seek for rest in death. Do you wish to come here some morning, and find me lying dead?”“Oh, miss!” cried the woman, excitedly, pushing the door more open; “don’t, please don’t you go and do a thing like that. You’re too young and beautiful, and—oh, oh, oh! Please don’t talk so; I can’t abear it—pray!”“Then help me, Becky, for I tell you I would sooner die.”“What, than marry him?”“Yes, than marry this dreadful man.”“Then—then,” whispered the woman, after withdrawing her head to gaze back, “I feel that I dursn’t, and p’raps he’ll kill me for it—not as I seem to mind much, and mother would soon get over it, for I ain’t o’ no use—but I think I will try and help you. You want to get away?”In her wild feeling of joy and excitement, Kate sprang toward the door, and she would have flung her arms round the unhappy woman’s neck. But before she could reach her the head was snatched back, and the fastening gave a loud snap, while when she opened it, Becky had disappeared and her mother was coming up the stairs to fetch the breakfast tray.“And not touched a bit, my dear,” said the housekeeper, with a reproachful shake of the head. “Now you must, you know; you must, indeed. And do let me advise you, my dear. Mr Garstang is such a good man, and so indulgent, and it’s really naughty of you to be so foolish as to oppose his wishes.”Kate turned upon her with a look that astounded the woman, who stood with parted lips, breathless, while a piece of bread was broken from the loaf on the tray, and a cup of tea poured out and placed aside.“Take away that tray,” said Kate, imperiously; “and remember your place. Never presume to speak to me again like that.”“No, ma’am—certainly not, ma’am,” said the woman, hastily. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, I am sure.”“Leave the room, and do not come again until I ring.”“My!” ejaculated the woman, as soon as she was on the landing, “to think of such a gentle-looking little thing being able to talk like that! P’raps master’s caught a tartar now.”There was a gleam of hope, then, after all. Poor Becky was not the vacant idiot she had always appeared. Kate felt that she had made one friend, and trembling with eagerness she went to the writing-table and wrote quickly a few lines to Jenny Leigh, briefly explaining her position, and begging her to lay the matter before her brother and ask his help and advice.This she inclosed and directed, and then sat gazing before her, conjuring the scene to follow at the cottage, and the indignation of Leigh. And as she thought, the warm blood tinged her pale cheeks once more, and she covered her face with her hands, to sit there sobbing for a few minutes before slowly tearing up the letter till the fragments were too small ever to be found and read by one curious to know their contents.Gladly as she would have seen Pierce Leigh appear and insist upon her taking refuge with his sister, she felt that she could not send such an appeal to those who were comparative strangers; and though she would not own to it even to herself, she felt that there were other reasons why she could not write.An hour of intense mental agony and dread passed, and she had to strive hard to keep down the terrible feeling of panic which nearly mastered her, and tempted her to rush down the stairs to try once more to escape, or to go to one of the front windows, throw it open, and shriek for help.“It would be an act of madness,” she sighed, as she recalled Garstang’s words respecting the sick lady. “And they would believe him!” she cried, while the feeling of helplessness grew and grew as she felt how thoroughly she was in Garstang’s power.Then came the thought of her aunt and uncle, her natural protectors, and she determined to write to them. James Wilton would fetch her away at once, for he was her guardian; and surely now, she told herself, she was woman enough to insist upon proper respect being paid to her wishes. She could set at defiance any of her cousin’s advances; and her conduct in leaving showed itself up in its strongest colours, as being cowardly—the act of a child.With a fresh display of energy she wrote to her aunt, detailing everything, and bidding her—not begging—to tell her uncle to come to her rescue at once. But no sooner was the letter written than she felt that her aunt would behave in some weak, foolish way, and there would be delay.She tore up that letter slowly, and after hiding the pieces, she sat there thinking again, with her brow wrinkled, and the look of agony in her face intensifying.“I have right on my side. He is my guardian, and he dare not act otherwise than justly by me. I am no longer the weak child now.”And once more she took paper, and wrote this time to James Wilton himself, telling him that Garstang had lured her away by the promise of protection, but had shown himself in the vilest colours at last.“He must—he shall protect me,” she said, exultantly, and she hastily directed the letter.But as she sat there with the letter in her hand, she shrank and trembled. For in vivid colours her imagination painted before her the trouble and persecution to which she would expose herself. She knew well enough what were James Wilton’s aims, and that situated as he was, he would stand at nothing to gain them. It was in vain she told herself that anything would be preferable to staying there at John Garstang’s mercy, the horror of rushing headlong back to her guardian, and the thoughts of his triumphant looks as he held her tightly once again, proved too much for her, and this letter was slowly torn up and the pieces hidden.As she sat there, with every nerve on the rack, a strange feeling of faintness came over her, and she started up in horror at the idea of losing her senses, and being at this man’s mercy. And as she walked hurriedly to and fro, trembling as she felt the faintness increasing, some relief came, for she grasped the fact that her faintness was due to want of food, and it was past mid-day.There was the bread close at hand, though, and turning to it she began to crumble up the pieces and to eat, though it was only with the greatest difficulty that she accomplished her task.But it had the required effect—the sensation of sinking passed off. And now she set herself the task of trying to think of some one among the very few friends she had known before her father’s death to whom she could send for help; but there did not occur to her mind one to whom she could apply in such a strait. There were the people at the bank, and the doctor who had attended her father in his last illness, but they were comparatively such strangers that she shrank from writing to them; and at last, unnerved, and with her mind seeming to refuse to act, she sat there feeling that there was not a soul in the world whom she could trust but the Leighs. She could send to Jenny, who would, she knew, be up in arms at once; but there was her brother. She could not, she dared not, ask him; and it would be, she felt, asking him. It would be so interpreted if she wrote.And then came the question which sent a shiver through her frame—what must he think of her, and would he come to her help as he would have done before she committed so rash an act?Kate’s weary ponderings were interrupted by a tap at the door, which produced a fit of trembling, and she glided to it to slip the bolt, which had hardly passed into its socket before the housekeeper’s voice was heard.“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but lunch is ready, and master would be glad to know if you are well enough to come down.”A stern negative was the reply, and for about a quarter of an hour she was undisturbed. Then came another tap, and the rattling of china and glass.“If you please, ma’am, I’ve brought your lunch.”She hesitated for a few moments. The desire was strong to refuse to take anything, but she felt that if she was to keep setting Garstang at defiance till she could escape, she must have energy and strength. So, unwillingly enough, she unfastened the door, the housekeeper entered with a tray, and set it down upon the table.“Can I bring you up anything more, ma’am, and would you like any wine?”“No,” was the abrupt answer, in tones that would bear no reply, and the woman went away, the door being fastened after her.The lunch tray looked dainty enough, but it remained untouched for a time. A desperate resolve had come upon the prisoner, and once more seating herself, she wrote a piteous letter to Jenny, imploring help, directed it, and placed it ready for giving to poor Becky when she came again. Stamps she had none, but she had a little money, and doubtless the girl would dispatch her note in safety.The desperate step taken, she felt more at ease, and feeling that her state of siege must last for a couple of days longer, she sat down and once more forced herself to eat, but she shrank from touching the water in the carafe, looking at it suspiciously, and preferring to partake of some that was in the room.The tray was fetched in due time, and the housekeeper smiled her satisfaction; but she went off without a word, and Kate felt that she would go straight to Garstang and report that the lunch had been eaten.She winced at this a little, but felt that it was inevitable, and feeling in better nerve she went to the door, which she had fastened, opened it a little, and stood there to watch for the coming of Becky.But the hours glided by, and with a creeping sense of horror she saw the wintry evening coming rapidly on, and thought of the night.Whenever a footstep was heard she was on the qui vive, but each time it was the mother. The daughter, who had before this seemed to be always gliding ghost-like about the place, was now invisible, and as Kate watched she saw the housekeeper light the hall jets and then descend to the kitchen region.Twice over she shrank back and secured the door, for she heard Garstang cough slightly, and saw him cross the hall from library to dining-room, and in each case she let some minutes elapse before she dared open and peer out again. The last time it was to be aware of the fact that the dinner hour had come once more, and soon after the woman began to ascend the stairs, Kate retiring within and slipping the bolt, to stand and listen for the message she knew would be delivered.“Master’s compliments, and are you well enough to come down, ma’am?”The brief negative sent the messenger down again, and the prisoner was left undisturbed for a few minutes, when there was the sound of a tray being brought to the door, but this time it was refused entrance.Kate watched again eagerly now, feeling that in all probability Becky would try to see her while her mother was occupied in the dining-room, but the time passed on and there was no sign of her, and thoughts of desperate venturing to try and reach the front door attacked the listener, but only to be dismissed.“It would only be to expose myself to insult,” she said, and growing more and more despondent, she once more closed and secured the door, expecting that there would be a fresh message sent up.In due time there was another tap at the door, but no request for her to come down.“I have brought you up some tea, ma’am.”Kate hesitated about admitting the woman, for the memory of the scene at the same hour on the previous night flashed across her, but instinctively feeling that the messenger was alone, she unfastened the door and let her in.“Master’s compliments, ma’am, and he hopes that your quiet day’s rest will have done you good. He says he will not trouble you to see him to-night, but he hopes you will be yourself again in the morning. Good-night, ma’am; I won’t disturb you again. The things can be left on the side-table. Is there anything else I can do?”“No, I thank you,” said Kate, coldly.“Very good, ma’am.”The woman went back to the door, and Kate’s last hope of her turning a friend to help her died out, for she heard her sigh and say softly, evidently to be heard:“Poor dear master; it’s very sad.”“Good-night!” said Kate, involuntarily repeating the woman’s words. “God help me and protect me through the long night watches, and inspire me with the thought that shall bring me help. How can I dare to sleep?”The answer came from Nature—imperative, and who knew no denial; for once more the prisoner awoke, wondering to find that it was morning and that she must have slept for many hours in a chair.
Kate uttered a gasp of relief on finding her fear needless, and darted towards the door, when, to her despair, the grotesque head was snatched back.
“Becky! Becky!” she cried piteously, as the door was closing; and she stood still, not daring to approach.
Her action had its effect, for the door was slowly pressed open again, and the bow of the washed-out cotton handkerchief which bandaged the woman’s face gradually appeared, the ends, which stuck up like a small pair of horns, trembling visibly. Then by very small degrees the woman’s forehead and the rest of the face appeared, with the eyes showing the white all round, as their owner gazed at the prisoner with her usual scared look intensified.
“Pray come in, Becky,” said Kate, softly; and she drew back towards a chair, so as to try and inspire a little confidence.
The head was slowly shaken, and the door drawn once more tightly against the woman’s long thin neck.
“Whatcher want?” she said, faintly.
“I want you to come in and talk to me,” said Kate in a low, appealing tone. “I want you to help me.”
“Dursn’t.”
“Yes, yes, you dare. Pray, pray don’t say that I have no one to ask but you. Oh, Becky, Becky, I am so unhappy. If you have a woman’s heart within your breast, have pity on me!”
“Gug!”
A spasm contracted the pallid face as a violent sob escaped from her lips, and the tears began to flow from the dilated eyes, and were accompanied by unpleasant sniffs.
“Don’t make me cr-cr-cry, miss, please.”
“No, no, don’t cry, Becky dear, pray,” whispered Kate, anxiously.
“You make me, miss—going on like that; and d-don’t call me dear, please. I ain’t dear to nobody; I’m a miserable wretch.”
“I always pitied you, Becky, but you never would let me be kind to you.”
“N-no, miss. It don’t do no good. On’y makes me mis’rable.”
“But I must be; I will be kind to you, Becky, and try and make you happy,” whispered Kate.
“Tain’t to be done, miss, till I die,” said the woman, sadly; and then there was a triumphant light in her eyes, and her face lit up as she said more firmly, “but I’m going to be happy then.”
“Yes, yes, and I’ll try to make you happy while you live; but you will help me, dear?”
The poor creature shook her head.
“Yes, you will—I’m sure you will,” pleaded Kate. “But pray come in.”
“Dursn’t, miss.”
“But I am in such trouble, Becky.”
“Yes, I know; he wants to marry you, and he’s going to keep you locked up till he does. I know.”
“Yes, yes; and I want to get away.”
“But you can’t,” whispered the woman, and she withdrew her head, and Kate in her despair thought she had gone. But the head reappeared slowly. “Nobody watching,” she whispered.
“I must go away, and you must help me, Becky,” whispered Kate.
“It’s no good. He won’t let you, miss. But don’t you marry him.”
“Never!” cried Kate.
“Hush, or they’ll hear you; and mother’s siding with him, and going to help him. She says he’s an angel, but he’s all smooth smiles, and talks to you like a saint, but he’s a horrid wretch.”
“Yes, yes. But now listen to me.”
“Yes, I’m a-listening, miss. It’s all because you’re so pretty and handsome, and got lots o’ money, aintcher?”
“Yes, unhappily,” sighed Kate.
“That’s what he wants. He got all poor old master’s money, and the house and furniture out of him.”
“He did?” whispered Kate, excitedly.
“Yes, miss; I know. Mother says it’s all nonsense, and that we ought to love him, because he’s such a good man. But I know better. Poor old master used to tell me when I took him up his letters: ‘Ah, Becky, my poor girl, you are disappointed and unhappy,’ he says, ‘but I’m more unhappy still. That man won’t be satisfied till he has ground the last farthing out of me, and there’s nothing left but my corpse.’ I didn’t believe him, and I said, ‘Don’t let him have it, sir.’ ‘Ah, Becky,’ he says, ‘I’m obliged; signed papers are stronger than iron chains,’ he says, ‘and he’s always dragging at the end. But he shall have it all, and heavy pounds o’ flesh at the end, and the bones too.’ I didn’t know what he meant, miss; and I didn’t believe as anyone could be as unlucky as me. But I believed him at last, when I went to his room and found him dead on the floor; and then I knew he must be worse than I was, for I couldn’t have done what he did.”
“Becky,” whispered Kate, fixing the trembling woman with her eyes, “I can understand how people who are very unhappy seek for rest in death. Do you wish to come here some morning, and find me lying dead?”
“Oh, miss!” cried the woman, excitedly, pushing the door more open; “don’t, please don’t you go and do a thing like that. You’re too young and beautiful, and—oh, oh, oh! Please don’t talk so; I can’t abear it—pray!”
“Then help me, Becky, for I tell you I would sooner die.”
“What, than marry him?”
“Yes, than marry this dreadful man.”
“Then—then,” whispered the woman, after withdrawing her head to gaze back, “I feel that I dursn’t, and p’raps he’ll kill me for it—not as I seem to mind much, and mother would soon get over it, for I ain’t o’ no use—but I think I will try and help you. You want to get away?”
In her wild feeling of joy and excitement, Kate sprang toward the door, and she would have flung her arms round the unhappy woman’s neck. But before she could reach her the head was snatched back, and the fastening gave a loud snap, while when she opened it, Becky had disappeared and her mother was coming up the stairs to fetch the breakfast tray.
“And not touched a bit, my dear,” said the housekeeper, with a reproachful shake of the head. “Now you must, you know; you must, indeed. And do let me advise you, my dear. Mr Garstang is such a good man, and so indulgent, and it’s really naughty of you to be so foolish as to oppose his wishes.”
Kate turned upon her with a look that astounded the woman, who stood with parted lips, breathless, while a piece of bread was broken from the loaf on the tray, and a cup of tea poured out and placed aside.
“Take away that tray,” said Kate, imperiously; “and remember your place. Never presume to speak to me again like that.”
“No, ma’am—certainly not, ma’am,” said the woman, hastily. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, I am sure.”
“Leave the room, and do not come again until I ring.”
“My!” ejaculated the woman, as soon as she was on the landing, “to think of such a gentle-looking little thing being able to talk like that! P’raps master’s caught a tartar now.”
There was a gleam of hope, then, after all. Poor Becky was not the vacant idiot she had always appeared. Kate felt that she had made one friend, and trembling with eagerness she went to the writing-table and wrote quickly a few lines to Jenny Leigh, briefly explaining her position, and begging her to lay the matter before her brother and ask his help and advice.
This she inclosed and directed, and then sat gazing before her, conjuring the scene to follow at the cottage, and the indignation of Leigh. And as she thought, the warm blood tinged her pale cheeks once more, and she covered her face with her hands, to sit there sobbing for a few minutes before slowly tearing up the letter till the fragments were too small ever to be found and read by one curious to know their contents.
Gladly as she would have seen Pierce Leigh appear and insist upon her taking refuge with his sister, she felt that she could not send such an appeal to those who were comparative strangers; and though she would not own to it even to herself, she felt that there were other reasons why she could not write.
An hour of intense mental agony and dread passed, and she had to strive hard to keep down the terrible feeling of panic which nearly mastered her, and tempted her to rush down the stairs to try once more to escape, or to go to one of the front windows, throw it open, and shriek for help.
“It would be an act of madness,” she sighed, as she recalled Garstang’s words respecting the sick lady. “And they would believe him!” she cried, while the feeling of helplessness grew and grew as she felt how thoroughly she was in Garstang’s power.
Then came the thought of her aunt and uncle, her natural protectors, and she determined to write to them. James Wilton would fetch her away at once, for he was her guardian; and surely now, she told herself, she was woman enough to insist upon proper respect being paid to her wishes. She could set at defiance any of her cousin’s advances; and her conduct in leaving showed itself up in its strongest colours, as being cowardly—the act of a child.
With a fresh display of energy she wrote to her aunt, detailing everything, and bidding her—not begging—to tell her uncle to come to her rescue at once. But no sooner was the letter written than she felt that her aunt would behave in some weak, foolish way, and there would be delay.
She tore up that letter slowly, and after hiding the pieces, she sat there thinking again, with her brow wrinkled, and the look of agony in her face intensifying.
“I have right on my side. He is my guardian, and he dare not act otherwise than justly by me. I am no longer the weak child now.”
And once more she took paper, and wrote this time to James Wilton himself, telling him that Garstang had lured her away by the promise of protection, but had shown himself in the vilest colours at last.
“He must—he shall protect me,” she said, exultantly, and she hastily directed the letter.
But as she sat there with the letter in her hand, she shrank and trembled. For in vivid colours her imagination painted before her the trouble and persecution to which she would expose herself. She knew well enough what were James Wilton’s aims, and that situated as he was, he would stand at nothing to gain them. It was in vain she told herself that anything would be preferable to staying there at John Garstang’s mercy, the horror of rushing headlong back to her guardian, and the thoughts of his triumphant looks as he held her tightly once again, proved too much for her, and this letter was slowly torn up and the pieces hidden.
As she sat there, with every nerve on the rack, a strange feeling of faintness came over her, and she started up in horror at the idea of losing her senses, and being at this man’s mercy. And as she walked hurriedly to and fro, trembling as she felt the faintness increasing, some relief came, for she grasped the fact that her faintness was due to want of food, and it was past mid-day.
There was the bread close at hand, though, and turning to it she began to crumble up the pieces and to eat, though it was only with the greatest difficulty that she accomplished her task.
But it had the required effect—the sensation of sinking passed off. And now she set herself the task of trying to think of some one among the very few friends she had known before her father’s death to whom she could send for help; but there did not occur to her mind one to whom she could apply in such a strait. There were the people at the bank, and the doctor who had attended her father in his last illness, but they were comparatively such strangers that she shrank from writing to them; and at last, unnerved, and with her mind seeming to refuse to act, she sat there feeling that there was not a soul in the world whom she could trust but the Leighs. She could send to Jenny, who would, she knew, be up in arms at once; but there was her brother. She could not, she dared not, ask him; and it would be, she felt, asking him. It would be so interpreted if she wrote.
And then came the question which sent a shiver through her frame—what must he think of her, and would he come to her help as he would have done before she committed so rash an act?
Kate’s weary ponderings were interrupted by a tap at the door, which produced a fit of trembling, and she glided to it to slip the bolt, which had hardly passed into its socket before the housekeeper’s voice was heard.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but lunch is ready, and master would be glad to know if you are well enough to come down.”
A stern negative was the reply, and for about a quarter of an hour she was undisturbed. Then came another tap, and the rattling of china and glass.
“If you please, ma’am, I’ve brought your lunch.”
She hesitated for a few moments. The desire was strong to refuse to take anything, but she felt that if she was to keep setting Garstang at defiance till she could escape, she must have energy and strength. So, unwillingly enough, she unfastened the door, the housekeeper entered with a tray, and set it down upon the table.
“Can I bring you up anything more, ma’am, and would you like any wine?”
“No,” was the abrupt answer, in tones that would bear no reply, and the woman went away, the door being fastened after her.
The lunch tray looked dainty enough, but it remained untouched for a time. A desperate resolve had come upon the prisoner, and once more seating herself, she wrote a piteous letter to Jenny, imploring help, directed it, and placed it ready for giving to poor Becky when she came again. Stamps she had none, but she had a little money, and doubtless the girl would dispatch her note in safety.
The desperate step taken, she felt more at ease, and feeling that her state of siege must last for a couple of days longer, she sat down and once more forced herself to eat, but she shrank from touching the water in the carafe, looking at it suspiciously, and preferring to partake of some that was in the room.
The tray was fetched in due time, and the housekeeper smiled her satisfaction; but she went off without a word, and Kate felt that she would go straight to Garstang and report that the lunch had been eaten.
She winced at this a little, but felt that it was inevitable, and feeling in better nerve she went to the door, which she had fastened, opened it a little, and stood there to watch for the coming of Becky.
But the hours glided by, and with a creeping sense of horror she saw the wintry evening coming rapidly on, and thought of the night.
Whenever a footstep was heard she was on the qui vive, but each time it was the mother. The daughter, who had before this seemed to be always gliding ghost-like about the place, was now invisible, and as Kate watched she saw the housekeeper light the hall jets and then descend to the kitchen region.
Twice over she shrank back and secured the door, for she heard Garstang cough slightly, and saw him cross the hall from library to dining-room, and in each case she let some minutes elapse before she dared open and peer out again. The last time it was to be aware of the fact that the dinner hour had come once more, and soon after the woman began to ascend the stairs, Kate retiring within and slipping the bolt, to stand and listen for the message she knew would be delivered.
“Master’s compliments, and are you well enough to come down, ma’am?”
The brief negative sent the messenger down again, and the prisoner was left undisturbed for a few minutes, when there was the sound of a tray being brought to the door, but this time it was refused entrance.
Kate watched again eagerly now, feeling that in all probability Becky would try to see her while her mother was occupied in the dining-room, but the time passed on and there was no sign of her, and thoughts of desperate venturing to try and reach the front door attacked the listener, but only to be dismissed.
“It would only be to expose myself to insult,” she said, and growing more and more despondent, she once more closed and secured the door, expecting that there would be a fresh message sent up.
In due time there was another tap at the door, but no request for her to come down.
“I have brought you up some tea, ma’am.”
Kate hesitated about admitting the woman, for the memory of the scene at the same hour on the previous night flashed across her, but instinctively feeling that the messenger was alone, she unfastened the door and let her in.
“Master’s compliments, ma’am, and he hopes that your quiet day’s rest will have done you good. He says he will not trouble you to see him to-night, but he hopes you will be yourself again in the morning. Good-night, ma’am; I won’t disturb you again. The things can be left on the side-table. Is there anything else I can do?”
“No, I thank you,” said Kate, coldly.
“Very good, ma’am.”
The woman went back to the door, and Kate’s last hope of her turning a friend to help her died out, for she heard her sigh and say softly, evidently to be heard:
“Poor dear master; it’s very sad.”
“Good-night!” said Kate, involuntarily repeating the woman’s words. “God help me and protect me through the long night watches, and inspire me with the thought that shall bring me help. How can I dare to sleep?”
The answer came from Nature—imperative, and who knew no denial; for once more the prisoner awoke, wondering to find that it was morning and that she must have slept for many hours in a chair.
Chapter Forty.In the hope that an opportunity would soon come, and to be ready at any moment, one of Kate’s first acts that morning was to write plainly a few words on a sheet of paper, begging Becky to post her letter, and inclosing it with the note in another envelope, which she directed to the woman herself. This she placed in the fold of her dress, where she could draw it out directly, and waited.The housekeeper was not long before she made her appearance with the breakfast tray, and was respectful in the extreme.“Master thought, ma’am, that perhaps you might like your breakfast alone this morning, but he hopes to see you at lunch. He is so unwell that he is not going out this morning.”“Staying to watch for fear I should escape,” thought Kate, and a nervous shiver ran through her; but rest seemed to have given her mental strength, and after breakfast she felt disposed to ridicule the idea of her being kept there against her will. “It must be possible to get away,” she thought. It only wanted nerve and determination, for there was but the wall of the house between her and safety.Soon after breakfast the housekeeper appeared again, to remove the breakfast things.“Would you mind me coming to tidy up your room, ma’am, while you are here, or would you prefer my waiting till you go down?”“Do it now,” said Kate, quietly; and to avoid being spoken to, she took up a book and held it as if she were reading. But all the time she was noting everything, with her senses on the alert, and the next minute her heart began to throb wildly, for she saw the woman go to the door, pass out the tray, and it was evident that some order was given.Becky was there, and Kate sat trembling, her excitement increasing when the next minute there was a light tap at the door, and Becky was admitted to assist in rearranging the room.This went on for about a quarter of an hour, with Becky carefully minding not to glance at the prisoner, who, with head bent, watched her every movement, on the hope of her being left alone for a few minutes.But as the mother was always near at hand, the opportunity did not come; and at last, with the envelope doubled in her hand, Kate began to feel that she might give up this time, and would have to wait till she could see the woman passing her room.The disappointment was terrible, and Kate’s heart sank in her despair as the housekeeper suddenly said:“There, that will do—get on downstairs.”She stood back for her daughter to pass her, and then followed to the door, where a whispered conversation ensued.“What? Left the brush?”“Yes; other side of the room.”“Be quick, then. Fetch it out.”The housekeeper was passing through the door as she spoke, and Becky reappeared, to cross the room hurriedly, with her face lighting up as she gave the prisoner a meaning look, drew something from her bosom, and thrust it into Kate’s hand, and took the note offered to her.“Now, Becky!” came from outside.The woman darted to the door.“Well?”“Can’t find it. Tain’t there.”The door closed, and Kate was once more alone, to eagerly examine the tiny packet handed to her.It was square, about an inch across, roughly tied up with black worsted, and proved to be a sheet of note paper, doubled up small, and containing the words, written in an execrable hand:“You run away. Come down at twelve o’clock, and I’ll let you out threw the airy.”Letter rarely contained such hope as this, and the receiver, as she sat there, with her pulses bounding in her excitement, saw no further difficulty. Her lonely position in London, the want of friends to whom she could flee, the awkward hour of the night—these all seemed to be trifles compared to the great gain, for in a few hours she would be free.She carefully destroyed the note, burning it in the fireplace, and then sat thinking, after opening and gazing out of the window, to realise how true Garstang’s words had been. But they were of no consequence now, for the way of escape was open, and she repented bitterly that she had dispatched her letter to Jenny. Then once more a feeling akin to shame made her flush, as she thought of Leigh and what he would feel on hearing the letter read by his sister.The day passed slowly on. A message came, asking if she would come down to lunch, and she refused. Later on came another message, almost a command, that she would be in her usual place at dinner, and to this she made no reply, for none seemed needed; but she determined that she would not stir from her room.Then more and more slowly the time glided on, till it was as if night would never come.But she made her preparations, so as to be ready when midnight did arrive. They were simple enough, and consisted in placing, bonnet, mantle, and the fewest necessaries. Her plans were far more difficult: where to go?She sat and thought of every friend in turn, but there was a difficulty in the way in each case; and in spite of trying hard to avoid it, as the last resource, she seemed to be driven to take refuge with Jenny Leigh; and in deciding finally upon this step she forced herself to ignore the thought of her brother, while feeling exhilarated by the thought that the course pursued would be the one most likely to throw Garstang off her track, for Northwood would be the last place he would credit her with fleeing to.Her head grew clearer now, as her hope of escape brightened, and the plans appeared easier and easier, and the way more clear.For it was so simple. Garstang and the housekeeper would by that time be asleep, and all she would have to do would be to steal silently down in the darkness to where Becky would be waiting for her. She would take her into the basement, and she would be free. If she could persuade her, she would take the poor creature with her. She would be a companion and protection, and rob her night journey of its strange appearance.The rest seemed to be mere trifles. She would walk for some distance, and then take a cab to the railway terminus at London Bridge, and wait till the earliest morning train started. The officials might think it strange, but she could take refuge in the waiting room.And now, feeling satisfied that her ideas were correct, she thought of her letter to Jenny. This would only be received just before her arrival, but it would have prepared her, and all would be well. The only dread that she had now was that she might encounter anyone from the Manor House at the station. On the way, the station fly would hide her from the curious gaze, but the thought made her carefully place a veil ready for use.Then came a kind of reaction; was it not madness to go to Northwood? Her uncle would soon know, and as soon as he did, he would insist upon her going back, and then—Kate reached no farther into the future, for there was a knock at the door, and the housekeeper appeared, smiling at her, and handed her a note.She saw at a glance that it was in Garstang’s handwriting, and she refused to take it, whereupon the woman placed it upon the table, close to her elbow, and left the room.For quite half an hour, Kate sat there determined not to open the letter, and trying hard not even to look at it; but human nature is weak, and unable to control the desire to know its contents, and excusing herself on the plea that perhaps it might have some bearing upon her plans for that night—a bearing which would force her to alter them—she took it up, opened it, and then sat gazing at it in despair.It was a large envelope, and the first thing which fell from it was her letter to Jenny, apparently unopened, but crumpled and soiled as if it had been held in a hot and dirty hand; while the other portion of the contents of the envelope was a letter from Garstang, calling her foolish and childish and asking her if she thought his threats so vain and empty that he had not taken precautions against her trying such a feeble plan as that.“I can not be angry with you,” he concluded, “I love you too well; but I do implore you, for your sake as well as my own, to act sensibly, and cease forcing me to carry on a course which degrades us both. Come, dearest, be wise; act like a woman should under the circumstances. You know well how I worship you. Show me in return some little pity, and let me have its first fruits in your presence at the dinner-table this evening. I promise you that you shall have no cause to regret coming down. My treatment shall be full of the most chivalrous respect, and I will wait as long as you wish, if only you will give me your word to be my wife.”Was there any other way of sending the letter? Could she cast it from the window, in the hope of its being picked up and posted? She feared not, and passed the weary minutes thinking that she must give it up. But she roused herself after a time. The mother had evidently taken the letter from Becky, and handed it to Garstang; but the flight was Becky’s own proposal, and now, after getting into trouble as she would have done over the letter, she would be the more likely to join in the flight.Dinner was announced, but she refused to go down, and after partaking of what was sent up, she waited and waited till bed-time was approaching, giving the housekeeper cause to think from her actions that she was going to bed, and fastening her door loudly as the woman left the room after saying good-night.And now came the most crucial time. She knew from old experience what Garstang’s habits were. He would read for about half an hour after the housekeeper had locked and barred the front door; and then go up to his room, which was in the front, upon the second floor; and she stood by the door, listening through the long leaden minutes for the sharp sound of the bolts and the rattle of bar and chain. Her brow was throbbing, and her hands felt damp in the palms with the dread she felt of some fresh development of Garstang’s persecution, and she would have given anything to have unbolted and opened her door, so as to stand in the darkness and watch, but shivered with fear at the very thought.At last, plainly heard, came the familiar sounds, and now she pictured what would follow—the extinguishing of the staircase and hall lights, as the housekeeper and her child went up to bed in the attic, and the place left in darkness, save where a faint bar of rays came from beneath the library door. Half an hour later that door would be opened, and Garstang would pass up. Then there would be nearly an hour to wait before she dared to steal away.The agony and suspense now became so unbearable that Kate felt that she must do something or she would go mad; and at last she softly threw back the bolt, opened the door, and looked out.All was dark, and after listening intently, she glided out inch by inch till she reached the balustrade and peered down into the hall.Exactly as she had pictured, there were a few faint rays from the library door, and just heard there was the smothered sound of a cough.She stole back to listen, but first closed and bolted the door hastily, put on bonnet, veil, and mantle, and then put out the candles burning upon her dressing-table.This done, she crept back to the door and stood there, waiting to hear some sound, or to see the gleam of a candle when Garstang went up, but she waited in vain.The half-hour must have long passed, and she was fain to confess that since her coming she had never once heard him go up to bed. The thick carpets, the position of her door, would dull sound and hide the light passing along the landing, and when another half-hour had passed she mustered up sufficient courage to once more slip the bolt.It glided back silently, but the hinges gave a faint crack as she opened them, and she then stood fast, with her heart beating violently, ready to fling the door to and fasten it again. But all was still, and at last once more, inch by inch, she crept out silently till she was able to gaze down into the hall.The breath she drew came more freely now, for the faint bar of light from the library was no longer there, and in the utter silence of the place she knew that the door must be wide open, and the fire nearly extinct, for all at once there was the faint tinkling sound of dying cinders falling together.He must have gone up to bed.For a few moments Kate Wilton felt ready to hurry down the stairs, but she checked the desire. It was not the appointed time, and she stole back, closed the door, and forced herself to sit down and wait Becky had said twelve o’clock, and it would be folly to go down earlier.Never had the place seemed so silent before. The distant roll of a cab sounded faint in the extreme, and it was as if the great city was for the time being dead. And now her heart sank again at the thought of her venture. She was going to plunge into the silence and darkness of the streets, so it seemed to her then; and the idea was so fraught with fear that she felt she must resign herself to her fate, for she dared not.The faint striking of a clock sent a thrill through her, and once more she felt inspired with the courage to make the attempt. Becky would have stolen down, and be waiting, and perhaps after the trouble of the letter business be quite ready to go with her. “Yes, she must go,” she said; and now, with every nerve drawn to its highest pitch of tension, she opened the door, and stood for a few moments listening.All was perfectly still, and hesitating no longer, she walked silently and swiftly to the staircase, caught at the hand-rail, and began to descend, her dress making a faint rustling as it passed over the thick carpet.Her goal was the door leading to the kitchen stairs, and the only dread she had now was that she might in the darkness touch one of the hall chairs, and make it scrape on the polished floor; but she recalled where each stood, and after a momentary pause, feeling convinced that she could make straight for the spot, she went on down into the darkness, reached the mat, and then found that there was a faint, dawn-like gleam coming from the fan-light over the door.Then her heart seemed to stand still, for just before her there was something shadowy and dark.“One of the statues,” she thought for the moment, and then turned to flee, but stopped.“Becky,” she whispered, and a hand touched her arm.
In the hope that an opportunity would soon come, and to be ready at any moment, one of Kate’s first acts that morning was to write plainly a few words on a sheet of paper, begging Becky to post her letter, and inclosing it with the note in another envelope, which she directed to the woman herself. This she placed in the fold of her dress, where she could draw it out directly, and waited.
The housekeeper was not long before she made her appearance with the breakfast tray, and was respectful in the extreme.
“Master thought, ma’am, that perhaps you might like your breakfast alone this morning, but he hopes to see you at lunch. He is so unwell that he is not going out this morning.”
“Staying to watch for fear I should escape,” thought Kate, and a nervous shiver ran through her; but rest seemed to have given her mental strength, and after breakfast she felt disposed to ridicule the idea of her being kept there against her will. “It must be possible to get away,” she thought. It only wanted nerve and determination, for there was but the wall of the house between her and safety.
Soon after breakfast the housekeeper appeared again, to remove the breakfast things.
“Would you mind me coming to tidy up your room, ma’am, while you are here, or would you prefer my waiting till you go down?”
“Do it now,” said Kate, quietly; and to avoid being spoken to, she took up a book and held it as if she were reading. But all the time she was noting everything, with her senses on the alert, and the next minute her heart began to throb wildly, for she saw the woman go to the door, pass out the tray, and it was evident that some order was given.
Becky was there, and Kate sat trembling, her excitement increasing when the next minute there was a light tap at the door, and Becky was admitted to assist in rearranging the room.
This went on for about a quarter of an hour, with Becky carefully minding not to glance at the prisoner, who, with head bent, watched her every movement, on the hope of her being left alone for a few minutes.
But as the mother was always near at hand, the opportunity did not come; and at last, with the envelope doubled in her hand, Kate began to feel that she might give up this time, and would have to wait till she could see the woman passing her room.
The disappointment was terrible, and Kate’s heart sank in her despair as the housekeeper suddenly said:
“There, that will do—get on downstairs.”
She stood back for her daughter to pass her, and then followed to the door, where a whispered conversation ensued.
“What? Left the brush?”
“Yes; other side of the room.”
“Be quick, then. Fetch it out.”
The housekeeper was passing through the door as she spoke, and Becky reappeared, to cross the room hurriedly, with her face lighting up as she gave the prisoner a meaning look, drew something from her bosom, and thrust it into Kate’s hand, and took the note offered to her.
“Now, Becky!” came from outside.
The woman darted to the door.
“Well?”
“Can’t find it. Tain’t there.”
The door closed, and Kate was once more alone, to eagerly examine the tiny packet handed to her.
It was square, about an inch across, roughly tied up with black worsted, and proved to be a sheet of note paper, doubled up small, and containing the words, written in an execrable hand:
“You run away. Come down at twelve o’clock, and I’ll let you out threw the airy.”
Letter rarely contained such hope as this, and the receiver, as she sat there, with her pulses bounding in her excitement, saw no further difficulty. Her lonely position in London, the want of friends to whom she could flee, the awkward hour of the night—these all seemed to be trifles compared to the great gain, for in a few hours she would be free.
She carefully destroyed the note, burning it in the fireplace, and then sat thinking, after opening and gazing out of the window, to realise how true Garstang’s words had been. But they were of no consequence now, for the way of escape was open, and she repented bitterly that she had dispatched her letter to Jenny. Then once more a feeling akin to shame made her flush, as she thought of Leigh and what he would feel on hearing the letter read by his sister.
The day passed slowly on. A message came, asking if she would come down to lunch, and she refused. Later on came another message, almost a command, that she would be in her usual place at dinner, and to this she made no reply, for none seemed needed; but she determined that she would not stir from her room.
Then more and more slowly the time glided on, till it was as if night would never come.
But she made her preparations, so as to be ready when midnight did arrive. They were simple enough, and consisted in placing, bonnet, mantle, and the fewest necessaries. Her plans were far more difficult: where to go?
She sat and thought of every friend in turn, but there was a difficulty in the way in each case; and in spite of trying hard to avoid it, as the last resource, she seemed to be driven to take refuge with Jenny Leigh; and in deciding finally upon this step she forced herself to ignore the thought of her brother, while feeling exhilarated by the thought that the course pursued would be the one most likely to throw Garstang off her track, for Northwood would be the last place he would credit her with fleeing to.
Her head grew clearer now, as her hope of escape brightened, and the plans appeared easier and easier, and the way more clear.
For it was so simple. Garstang and the housekeeper would by that time be asleep, and all she would have to do would be to steal silently down in the darkness to where Becky would be waiting for her. She would take her into the basement, and she would be free. If she could persuade her, she would take the poor creature with her. She would be a companion and protection, and rob her night journey of its strange appearance.
The rest seemed to be mere trifles. She would walk for some distance, and then take a cab to the railway terminus at London Bridge, and wait till the earliest morning train started. The officials might think it strange, but she could take refuge in the waiting room.
And now, feeling satisfied that her ideas were correct, she thought of her letter to Jenny. This would only be received just before her arrival, but it would have prepared her, and all would be well. The only dread that she had now was that she might encounter anyone from the Manor House at the station. On the way, the station fly would hide her from the curious gaze, but the thought made her carefully place a veil ready for use.
Then came a kind of reaction; was it not madness to go to Northwood? Her uncle would soon know, and as soon as he did, he would insist upon her going back, and then—
Kate reached no farther into the future, for there was a knock at the door, and the housekeeper appeared, smiling at her, and handed her a note.
She saw at a glance that it was in Garstang’s handwriting, and she refused to take it, whereupon the woman placed it upon the table, close to her elbow, and left the room.
For quite half an hour, Kate sat there determined not to open the letter, and trying hard not even to look at it; but human nature is weak, and unable to control the desire to know its contents, and excusing herself on the plea that perhaps it might have some bearing upon her plans for that night—a bearing which would force her to alter them—she took it up, opened it, and then sat gazing at it in despair.
It was a large envelope, and the first thing which fell from it was her letter to Jenny, apparently unopened, but crumpled and soiled as if it had been held in a hot and dirty hand; while the other portion of the contents of the envelope was a letter from Garstang, calling her foolish and childish and asking her if she thought his threats so vain and empty that he had not taken precautions against her trying such a feeble plan as that.
“I can not be angry with you,” he concluded, “I love you too well; but I do implore you, for your sake as well as my own, to act sensibly, and cease forcing me to carry on a course which degrades us both. Come, dearest, be wise; act like a woman should under the circumstances. You know well how I worship you. Show me in return some little pity, and let me have its first fruits in your presence at the dinner-table this evening. I promise you that you shall have no cause to regret coming down. My treatment shall be full of the most chivalrous respect, and I will wait as long as you wish, if only you will give me your word to be my wife.”
Was there any other way of sending the letter? Could she cast it from the window, in the hope of its being picked up and posted? She feared not, and passed the weary minutes thinking that she must give it up. But she roused herself after a time. The mother had evidently taken the letter from Becky, and handed it to Garstang; but the flight was Becky’s own proposal, and now, after getting into trouble as she would have done over the letter, she would be the more likely to join in the flight.
Dinner was announced, but she refused to go down, and after partaking of what was sent up, she waited and waited till bed-time was approaching, giving the housekeeper cause to think from her actions that she was going to bed, and fastening her door loudly as the woman left the room after saying good-night.
And now came the most crucial time. She knew from old experience what Garstang’s habits were. He would read for about half an hour after the housekeeper had locked and barred the front door; and then go up to his room, which was in the front, upon the second floor; and she stood by the door, listening through the long leaden minutes for the sharp sound of the bolts and the rattle of bar and chain. Her brow was throbbing, and her hands felt damp in the palms with the dread she felt of some fresh development of Garstang’s persecution, and she would have given anything to have unbolted and opened her door, so as to stand in the darkness and watch, but shivered with fear at the very thought.
At last, plainly heard, came the familiar sounds, and now she pictured what would follow—the extinguishing of the staircase and hall lights, as the housekeeper and her child went up to bed in the attic, and the place left in darkness, save where a faint bar of rays came from beneath the library door. Half an hour later that door would be opened, and Garstang would pass up. Then there would be nearly an hour to wait before she dared to steal away.
The agony and suspense now became so unbearable that Kate felt that she must do something or she would go mad; and at last she softly threw back the bolt, opened the door, and looked out.
All was dark, and after listening intently, she glided out inch by inch till she reached the balustrade and peered down into the hall.
Exactly as she had pictured, there were a few faint rays from the library door, and just heard there was the smothered sound of a cough.
She stole back to listen, but first closed and bolted the door hastily, put on bonnet, veil, and mantle, and then put out the candles burning upon her dressing-table.
This done, she crept back to the door and stood there, waiting to hear some sound, or to see the gleam of a candle when Garstang went up, but she waited in vain.
The half-hour must have long passed, and she was fain to confess that since her coming she had never once heard him go up to bed. The thick carpets, the position of her door, would dull sound and hide the light passing along the landing, and when another half-hour had passed she mustered up sufficient courage to once more slip the bolt.
It glided back silently, but the hinges gave a faint crack as she opened them, and she then stood fast, with her heart beating violently, ready to fling the door to and fasten it again. But all was still, and at last once more, inch by inch, she crept out silently till she was able to gaze down into the hall.
The breath she drew came more freely now, for the faint bar of light from the library was no longer there, and in the utter silence of the place she knew that the door must be wide open, and the fire nearly extinct, for all at once there was the faint tinkling sound of dying cinders falling together.
He must have gone up to bed.
For a few moments Kate Wilton felt ready to hurry down the stairs, but she checked the desire. It was not the appointed time, and she stole back, closed the door, and forced herself to sit down and wait Becky had said twelve o’clock, and it would be folly to go down earlier.
Never had the place seemed so silent before. The distant roll of a cab sounded faint in the extreme, and it was as if the great city was for the time being dead. And now her heart sank again at the thought of her venture. She was going to plunge into the silence and darkness of the streets, so it seemed to her then; and the idea was so fraught with fear that she felt she must resign herself to her fate, for she dared not.
The faint striking of a clock sent a thrill through her, and once more she felt inspired with the courage to make the attempt. Becky would have stolen down, and be waiting, and perhaps after the trouble of the letter business be quite ready to go with her. “Yes, she must go,” she said; and now, with every nerve drawn to its highest pitch of tension, she opened the door, and stood for a few moments listening.
All was perfectly still, and hesitating no longer, she walked silently and swiftly to the staircase, caught at the hand-rail, and began to descend, her dress making a faint rustling as it passed over the thick carpet.
Her goal was the door leading to the kitchen stairs, and the only dread she had now was that she might in the darkness touch one of the hall chairs, and make it scrape on the polished floor; but she recalled where each stood, and after a momentary pause, feeling convinced that she could make straight for the spot, she went on down into the darkness, reached the mat, and then found that there was a faint, dawn-like gleam coming from the fan-light over the door.
Then her heart seemed to stand still, for just before her there was something shadowy and dark.
“One of the statues,” she thought for the moment, and then turned to flee, but stopped.
“Becky,” she whispered, and a hand touched her arm.