A Very Naughty Girl

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XXIX.--WHAT COULD IT MEAN?

  Anger gave Mr. Leeson a false strength. He put the canvas bags of goldinto a large cupboard in the parlor; he locked the door and put the keyinto his pocket. Then he went gingerly and on tiptoe to anothercupboard, and took down out of the midst of an array of dirty emptybottles one which contained a very little brandy. He kept this brandyhere so that no one should guess at its existence. He poured himself outabout a thimbleful of the potent spirit and drank it off. He thenreturned the bottle to its place, and fumbling in a lower shelf,collected some implements together. With these he went out into the openair.

  He now approached the window where the light shone--the faint, dim lightwhich flickered against the blind and seemed almost to go out, and thenshone once more. Slowly and dexterously he cut, with a diamond which hehad brought for the purpose, a square of glass out of the lower pane. Heput the glass on the ground, and slipping in his hand, pushed back thebolt. All his movements were quiet. He said "Ah!" once or twice underhis breath. When he had gently and very softly lifted the sash, he tooka handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away some drops which stood onhis forehead. Then he said "Ah!" once more, and slipped softly, deftly,and quietly into the room. He had made no noise whatsoever. The youngsleepers never moved. He stood in the fire-lit, and in his opinionlavishly furnished, room. Here was a small white bed and an occupant;here a larger bed and another occupant. He crept on tiptoe towards thetwo beds. He bent down over the little occupant of the smaller bed.

  A girl--a stranger! A girl with long, fair hair, and light lashes lyingon a white cheek. A curious-looking girl! She moaned once or twice inher sleep. He did not want to awaken her.

  He looked towards the other bed, in which lay Sylvia, pretty, debonair,rosy in her happy, warm slumber. She had flung one arm outside thecounterpane. Her lips parted; she uttered the words:

  "Darling father! Poor, poor father!"

  The man who listened started back as though something had struck him.

  Sylvia in that bed--Sylvia who had spoken to him not two hours agoup-stairs? What did it mean? What could it mean? And who was thisstranger? And what did the fire mean, and all the furniture? A carpet onthe floor, too! A carpet on his floor--his! And a fire which he had neverwarranted in his grate, and beds which he had never ordered in his room!Oh! was it not enough to strike a man mad with fury? And yet again! whatwas this? A table and the remains of supper! Good living, warmth,luxuries, under the roof of the man who was fireless and cold and, as hehimself fondly and foolishly believed, a beggar!

  He stood absolutely dumb. He would not awaken the sleepers. A strangesensation visited him. He was determined not to give way to hispassions; he was determined, before he said a word to Sylvia, to regainhis self-control.

  "Once I said bitter things to her mother; I will not err in thatdirection any more," he said to himself. "And in her sleep she called me'Father' and 'Poor father.' But all the same I shall cast her away. Sheis no longer my Sylvia. I disown her; I disinherit her. She goes outinto the cold. She is ruining her father. She has deceived me; she shallnever be anything to me again. Paw! how I hate her!"

  He went to the window, got out just as he had got in, drew down thesash, and stepped softly across the dark lawn.

  He was very cold now, and he felt faint; the effect of the tiny supplyof brandy which he had administered to himself had worn off. He wentinto his desolate parlor. How cold it was! He thought of the big fire inthe bedroom which he had left. How poor and desolate was this room bycontrast! What a miserable bed he reposed on at night--absolutely notenough blankets--but Sylvia lay like a bird in its nest, so warm, sosnug! Oh! how bad she was!

  "Her mother was never as bad as that," he muttered to himself. "She wasextravagant, but she was not like Sylvia. She never willingly deceivedme. Sylvia to have a strange and unknown girl--a stranger--in the house!All my suspicions are verified. My doubts are certainties. God help me!I am a miserable old man."

  He cowered down, and the icy cold of the room struck through his bones.He looked at the grate, and observed that a fire had been laid there.

  "Sylvia did that," he said to himself. "The little minx did not like tofeel that she was so warm and I so cold, so she laid the fire; shethought that I would indulge myself. I! But am I not suffering for her?While she lies in the lap of luxury I die of cold and hunger, and allfor her. But I will do it no longer. I will light the fire; I will havea feast; I will eat and drink and be merry, and forget that I had adaughter."

  So the unfortunate man, half-mad with bewilderment and the grief of hisrecent losses, lit a blazing fire, and going to his cupboard, took outhis brandy and drank what was left in the bottle. He was warm now, andhis pulse beat more quickly. He remembered his six bags of gold, and theother six bags in the garden, and he resolved that if necessary he wouldfly without Sylvia. Sylvia could stay behind. If she managed to havesuch luxuries without his aid, she could go on having them; he wouldleave her a trifle--yes, a trifle--and save the rest for himself, and beno longer tortured by an unworthy and deceitful daughter. But as hethought these things he became more and more puzzled. The Sylvia lyingon that bed was undoubtedly his daughter; but his daughter had spoken tohim from her own room at a reasonable hour--between ten and eleveno'clock--that same night. How could there be two Sylvias?

  "The mystery thickens," he muttered to himself. "This is more than I canstand. I will ferret the thing out--yes, and to the very bottom. Thosetrunks in the attic! I suppose they belong to that ugly child. Thatvoice in Sylvia's room! Well, of course it was Sylvia's voice; but whatabout the other Sylvia down-stairs? I must see into this matter withoutdelay."

  He went up-stairs and found himself outside Sylvia's door. He turned thehandle, but it was locked. There was a light in the room, doubtlesscaused by another fire. He looked through the keyhole; the door waslocked from within, for the key was in the lock.

  More and more remarkable! How could Sylvia lock the door from within ifshe was not in the room? Really the matter was enough to daze any man.Suddenly he made up his mind. It was now five o'clock in the morning; ina short time the day would break. Sylvia was an early riser. If Sylviaor any one else was in that room he would wait on the threshold toconfront that person. Oh, of course it was Sylvia; she had slipped backagain and was in bed, and thought he would never discover her. Howastonished she would be when she saw him seated outside her door!

  So Mr. Leeson fetched a broken-down chair from his own bedroom, placedit softly just outside the door of the room where Jasper was reposing,and prepared himself to watch. He was far too excited to sleep, and thehours dragged slowly on. There was an old eight-day clock in the hall,and it struck solemnly hour after hour. Six o'clock--seven o'clock.Sylvia rose soon after seven. He waited now impatiently. The days werebeginning to lengthen, and it was light--not full daylight, but nearlyso. He heard a stir in the room.

  "Ha, ha, Miss Sylvia!" he said to himself, "I shall catch you, take youby the hand, bring you down to my parlor, tell you exactly what I thinkof----Hullo! she is making a good deal of noise. How strong she is! Howshe bounded out of bed!"

  He listened impatiently. His heart warmed now to the work which laybefore him. He was, on the whole, enjoying himself at the thought ofdiscovering to Sylvia how black he thought her iniquities.

  "No child of my own any more!" he said to himself. "'Poor father,'indeed! 'Darling father, forsooth!' No, no, Sylvia; acts speak louderthan words, and you were convicted out of your own mouth, my daughter."

  Jasper dressed with despatch. She washed; she arranged her toilet. Shecame to the door; she opened it. Mr. Leeson looked up.

  Jasper fell back.

  "Merciful heavens!" cried the woman; and then Mr. Leeson grasped herhand and dragged her out of the room.

  "Who are you, woman?" he said. "How dare you come into my house? Whatare you doing in my daughter's room?"

  "Ah, Mr. Leeson," said Jasper quietly, "discovered at last. Well, sir,and I am not sorry."

  "But
who are you? What are you? What are you doing in my daughter'sroom?"

  "Will you come down to the parlor with me, Mr. Leeson, or shall Iexplain here?"

  "You do not stir a step from this place until you tell me."

  "Then I will, sir--I will. I have been living in this house for the lastsix weeks. During that time I have paid Miss Sylvia, and she has hadmoney enough to keep the breath of life within her. Be thankful that Icame, Mr. Leeson, for you owe me much, and I owe you nothing. Ah! do yourecognize me now? The gipsy--forsooth!--the gipsy who gave you a recipefor making the old hen tender! Ha, ha! I laugh as I thought never tolaugh again when I recall that day."

  Mr. Leeson stood cold and white, looking full at Jasper. Suddenly agreat dizziness took possession of him; he stretched out his handwildly.

  "There is something wrong with me," he said. "I don't think I am well."

  "Poor old gentleman!" said Jasper--"no wonder!" and her voice becamemild. "The shock of it all, and the confusion! Sakes alive! I am notgoing to take you into that icy bedroom of yours. Lean on me. There now,sir. You have not lost a penny by me; you have saved, on the contrary,and I have kept your daughter alive, and I have given you the best food,made out of the tenderest chickens, out of my own money, mark you--out ofmy own money--for weeks and weeks. Come down-stairs, sir; come and I willget you a bit of breakfast."

  "I--cannot--see," muttered Mr. Leeson again.

  "Well then, sir, I suppose you can feel. Anyhow, here is a good, strongright arm. Lean on it--all your weight if you like. Now then, we will getdown-stairs."

  Mr. Leeson was past resistance. Jasper pulled his shaky old hand throughher arm, and half-carried, half-dragged him down to the parlor. Thereshe put him in a big armchair near the fire, and was bustling out of theroom to get breakfast when he called her back.

  "So you really are the woman who had the recipe for making old henstender?"

  "Bless you, Mr. Leeson!--bless you!--yes, I am the woman."

  "You will let me buy it from you?"

  "Certainly--yes," replied Jasper, not quite knowing whether to laugh orto cry. "But I am going to get you some breakfast now."

  "And who is the other girl?"

  "Does he know about her too?" thought Jasper. "What can have happened inthe night?"

  "If you mean my dear little Miss Eve, why, no one has a better right tobe here, for she belongs to me and I pay for her--yes, every penny; and,for the matter of that, she only came last night. But do not fashyourself now, my good sir; you are past thought, I take it, and you wanta hearty meal."

  Jasper bustled away; Mr. Leeson lay back in his chair. Was the worldturning upside down? What had happened? Oh, if only he could feel well!If only that giddiness would leave him! What was the matter? He had beenso well and so fierce and so strong a few hours ago, and now--now evenhis anger was slipping away from him. He had felt quite comforted whenhe leaned on Jasper's strong arm; and when she pushed him into thearmchair and wrapped an old blanket round him, he had enjoyed it ratherthan otherwise. Oh! he ought to be nearly mad with rage; and yetsomehow--somehow he was not.