Collected Works of Frances Trollope
Page 424
Stephen ceased, and his companion having listened to him very attentively, remained in silent rumination for a minute or two, after he had finished his statement.
At length he said, but in a voice scarcely above a whisper, “Then, if Mr and Mrs. Mathews were to be both dead tomorrow, you, Stephen Cornington, would be the owner of this place and of two thousand a-year?”
“Yes!” replied Stephen, distinctly. But he, too, spoke in a whisper.
And then they both remained silent for several minutes.
“My position, Stephen, is a very ticklish one,” said Mr. ‘William White, drawing a long breath. It is as well, I believe, to make you understand the whole truth at once. If I am caught I shall be tried, and transported for life as certainly as I am sitting before you now. I daresay you know a good deal more about London and its ways than your beloved grandfather gives you credit for: but yet I really doubt if you know enough to make you fully understand the sort of position in which a fellow in my cursed condition finds himself when he is obliged to go there without twenty shillings in his pocket. If I could once quit the country, I should be safe enough; but this is not to be done without money, and money, my dear boy, I must have. You understand me, Stephen. Go your own way to work. Manage the job just as you like best; but money, young gentleman, I must have, and YOU must procure it for me.”
“And I swear, before God and all his saints, and the blessed Mary to boot, that if your life, and my life too, depended upon it, I could not procure you twenty pounds,” replied Stephen, without a shadow of bullying, and looking deadly pale.
“That makes no difference whatever, Stephen, and that you know as well as I do. Necessity has no law but its own. The thing must be clone, and, doubtless, there are many ways of doing it. I am perfectly well disposed to leave the choice to you. The thing must be done, and you must do it. The manner how, I leave to your choice, and the time when shall depend upon circumstances. There are many circumstances in my position here extremely favourable to my concealment, and I have no objection whatever to my indulging myself with a little breathing time. But this must be clone with caution. However, if nothing occurs to startle me, I think that I may venture upon remaining here for three days. They won’t get wind of me easily. But I will risk it no longer, Master Stephen. By this hour, on Thursday next, I must receive from your hands the sum of five hundred pounds; unless, indeed, accident should be likely to put you with tolerable brevity, and with tolerable certainty, into the possession of your fine inheritance. In that case, I would take ten pounds and a labourer’s frock, and beg my way, you know, down to Scotland, trusting to the future. I could embark there easy enough, in a fishing boat. But this is only a hint. I shall expect your answer to-morrow, and I will come here for it.”
Having said these words, he ceased, and remained with his large wide open eyes fixed upon the pallid face opposite to him, with a sort of mocking solemnity that had all the horror of tragedy, and all the coarseness of comedy in it.
He looked like a huge demon, cast in iron; while Stephen looked like a familiar, who, though admitted to a knowledge of the most hideous sins — nay, graciously permitted to participate in their perpetration — was still but an imp, and treated with a good deal of familiar scorn accordingly.
Twice he attempted to speak in reply to the imperative command thus laid upon him, and twice he failed to articulate a syllable, literally from not having breath to speak.
Mr. William White smiled, with a little scorn, perhaps, but showed no violent symptoms of indignation — though this silence certainly appeared to be singularly inconvenient, considering the critical situation of the individual who was awaiting his reply.
“You have not words, or you have not breath, or you have not strength, or you have not courage, to answer me,” said the iron man. “You are a fine-looking fellow, Stephen, considering that you are but a boy; but a little degenerate, I am afraid — a little degenerate. However, it matters not,” he added, rising from his chair; “you have heard me, which is more important than my now hearing you. I suspect, that if at this moment you had strength to speak, I should hear nothing nobler from you than assurances that what I have asked is impossible. But night thoughts are sometimes wise thoughts, and they may, probably, prove so in your ease; for it is likely enough that you may remember, in the snug solitude of your own chamber, that what I ask! COMMAND!”
And having said this, he took his candle, bent his head very graciously in farewell, and opened the door. He paused, however, for a moment, ere he passed through it, and said, “The first door, I believe?” and then Stephen roused himself sufficiently to utter “Yes,” and in the next moment the door was closed upon him, and he was left alone.
CHAPTER LVII.
EARLY on the following morning, Mrs. Mathews paid a visit to Janet, in her bed-room. “I am come to consult you, my dear child,” said she, noiselessly closing the door. “It has not very often happened to me, Janet, to feel so much in doubt as I do at this minute as to what I ought to do. You know the advice which my old friend, Mr. Cuthbridge, has given me. You know what the objections were, and are, against my accepting it. Mr. Cuthbridge is to call on me again, in order to discuss the subject further, and to learn my decision; but I do not expect him till to-morrow. How the fact is, Janet, that the arrival of this horrible man has gone far towards convincing me that Mr. Cuthbridge is right, and that my first duty is to remove you from a house that is no longer fit to be your home. What I come now to consult upon is, whether it will be better for us to throw ourselves upon the hospitality of Lady Otterborne at once, by our walking across the park immediately, before the two gentlemen descend to breakfast, or whether it will not be more dignified and more wise to await another visit from Mr. Cuthbridge, state to him the new adventure that has befallen us, and then to act as he may advise?”
Janet listened very attentively to this long speech, for her young head was working too, upon the decidedly puzzling question as to whether it were better for poor, harassed Mrs. Mathews to endure her home, or to run away from it.
“Our thoughts, dear mother, have been working upon the same question, probably as much as they could have been had we passed the night together, and the result of my meditations is, that you had better wait for another visit from Mr. Cuthbridge. One reason for my thinking so is, that I suspect we are both of us too much under the influence of anger and disgust for our judgment upon the all-important subject of separation to have fair play. Mr. Cuthbridge is more likely to be in his sober senses.”
“Perhaps, Janet, you will think that I have indeed lost every sense that deserves to be called sober, when I confess to you that I not only feel disgust, but fear. If my life depended upon it, I could not tell you what it is I fear, and yet I can give no other name to the sensation that torments me,” said Mrs. Mathews, with a sort of shudder that made her companion smile.
“Then if such be your condition,” said Janet, “I most strongly recommend your taking no decisive step till you have some one of stouter heart than mine to counsel you. Do not run from your house in terror, my dear mother, because a very tall, very stout, very vulgar man came to visit Mr. Stephen Cornington.”
“Then, while we wait for a more sober-minded judgment than mine to direct us, let us condescend to soothe our irritated feelings by a sort of half-measure,” replied Mrs. Mathews.
“Well, dearest, and what shall the half-measure be?” said Janet.
“Why, let us boldly walk down to breakfast,” returned her friend, “and let us soberly and courageously meet the big man again; and after breakfast, when the gentlemen have determined how they will dispose of themselves for the morning, we will watch our opportunity, and quietly creep across the park to our refuge. And then we will tell them all about it, Janet. There will be no danger, I think, of our meeting the party at the Manor-house. I do not believe Mr. Mathews will be disposed to introduce his new friend there. Do you?”
The reply to this was so gay a smile, as to strength
en the nerves of Mrs. Mathews considerably, so much so, indeed, that she jested upon her own terrors very sarcastically, and when the breakfast-bell rang, the two ladies made their appearance arm-in-arm, and saluted the strange guest with the most dignified politeness and composure.
It was perhaps fortunate that they did so, for there was a shadow lowering on the brow of Mr. William White as they entered the room; but it vanished instantly upon receiving the salutation of his hostess.
The manner of this man, too, was much less offensive than it had been on the preceding night; for though he sat exactly opposite to Janet, he never once fixed his eyes upon her face.
This was a great relief to her, and moreover it left her at liberty to look at him, which a strong feeling of curiosity prompted her to do, and she now ventured to indulge it. But of this, Mr. William White did not appear to be at all conscious. He was evidently preoccupied; but though perfectly civil, he was more quiet than conversable, and by way of accounting for this, he said that he had been travelling a great deal lately, and that he was still feeling the fatigue arising from it.
In answer to a polite proposal from Mr. Mathews, that if he liked it he could lend him a horse, and take him to see some of the prettiest scenery in the county, he said that he believed he had no great taste for scenery, and that it would better suit him to sit in an easy chair and read the newspaper.
Nevertheless, he seemed to feel some little interest about the horse which was offered for his use, for he asked if it was a tolerably quick goer.
The easy chair, which it was evident Mr. William White liked best, was the one he had sat in on the preceding evening, in Stephen’s room, and his young friend indulged him in this predilection, as soon as it was expressed; and accordingly it was there that they established themselves, and there that they remained till very nearly the hour of dinner.
What ‘ Mr. Mathews did with himself was not very well known to anybody; but Sally Spicer said that she thought he had shut himself into his own room, for she had met him coming up the stairs, and that he said to her as he passed that he was afraid he was going to have a headache.
Mrs. Mathews and Janet meanwhile persevered in their intention of walking to the Manor-house, — where the intended consultation took place, very much to the satisfaction of all the parties engaged in it; for it was agreed, without a dissentient voice, that nothing could be so easy, and that certainly nothing could be so agreeable, as that they should both take up their abode at the Manor-house as long as the big man remained at the Grange; but, nevertheless, the courage of Mrs. Mathews being restored by the peaceable demeanour of the big man during breakfast, and by the facility with which she had transported herself and Janet beyond his reach, she was fain to confess that she did not really believe that there was anything to be afraid of, unless it were that the said big man should take it into his head to stare at Janet again.
“That, at least, is decidedly my own concern,” said Sir Herbert; “and therefore I must beg to have a vote in the business. I don’t like that my Janet should be stared at by the big man, and I don’t think she would particularly like it herself; therefore, my very dear friend, I will beg as a most especial favour that when you have had enough of us you would let me escort you home again across the park, leaving Janet to pass the day with my mother.”
“Well, Sir Herbert, I suppose I must consent. It is evident that you are jealous of our big man, and who shall say what may happen if I refuse?”
In consequence, therefore, of this arrangement, Mrs. Mathews returned to the Grange escorted by Herbert, leaving Janet tête-à-tête with his mother.
“Do, dearest! tell me something more of this strange visitor?” said Lady Otterborne, as soon ‘as they were left alone. “I am quite sure there must be something very extraordinary about him, for our dear Mrs. Mathews is not a person to be alarmed for nothing in the way which it is evident happened to her last night.”
“I do not really think that she positively feared danger from him,” replied Janet. “It is not very likely, you know, that this favourite grandson should really bring anybody into the house to rob and murder us. But if not absolutely alarming, there must be always something startling, I think, in what is both out of place and unexpected. Unexpected the arrival of this man most certainly was, for we had never heard of his existence before; and could you see him you would understand, dear Lady Otterborne, better than any description of mine could make you, how completely out of place this man appears in the house of a gentleman.”
“Was his dress particularly strange?” said Lady Otterborne.
“I cannot tell you,” replied Janet, “for I do not know how he was dressed; but I suppose it was strange, because everything about him seemed strange.”
“Was he very ugly?” demanded her friend.
“No!” returned Janet, very decisively; “and now I will tell you the strangest thing of all. Instead of being ugly, I really believe that he was very handsome, only very tall and very large; but—” and there she stopped.
“But what, Janet? Why should there be anything strange in the man’s being handsome?” said Lady Otterborne.
“Nothing!” was Janet’s reply. “There is nothing strange in his being handsome, for you may see handsome people in all stations, and ugly people, too. No! no! The strangeness was not in his being handsome, but in his being so very like his dear friend, Mr. Stephen! But Mrs. Mathews did not see it.”
“Then I presume, Janet,” replied Lady Otterborne, “that this strange resemblance must have been a fancy of yours?”
“No! no!” again ejaculated Janet, “I am sure it was no fancy. I am a portrait sketcher, you know, Lady Otterborne, and I think I know what constitutes a real, and not a fanciful likeness. In short, dear lady, my private conviction is that they are nearly related.”
“Nay, then, my dear, that may account for the hospitable reception which our good, silly Mr. Mathews has given him; and instead of appearing strange, I think it removes the strangeness,” said Lady Otterborne.
“But if he be a relative, why not avow it?” said Janet.
“He may have avowed it to Mr. Mathews, perhaps,” replied her friend.
“True,” returned Janet; and here the conversation dropped, for Herbert now joined them, and they were at no loss to find themes of deeper interest to talk of than any which Stephen Cornington or his friend could furnish.
CHAPTER LVIII.
SCARCELY had Mrs. Mathews reseated herself in the “Den” when Mr. Cuthbridge made his appearance at the door of it, and was received with something like a shout of welcome. “Ah! you know not how much you have been wished for, Sir Priest!” she exclaimed. “We have had an adventure since your last visit, which has, I think, very nearly determined me to follow your advice.”
“If it be not a very bad adventure, I think I shall be glad of it,” he replied, “for I shall rejoice at anything which changes your present position — I do not like it. Now, then! — Tell me all about it.”
She did tell him all about it; and after meditating in silence for a moment, he said, “I should like to see the man.”
“And I shall like that you should see him,” she replied: “and nothing can be more easy,” she added. “You have only to stay and dine here. It will be an especial kindness to me if you will do so, for Janet is with Lady Otterborne, and will not return till I send the carriage for her in the evening.”
“Then I will stay and dine with you,” said Mr. Cuthbridge, gravely, “though it is possible my pious penitent may not be particularly well pleased to see me. Do not let anybody, not even the faithful Sally, know that I am here. Neither she, nor anyone else, I think, saw me enter. Where do you suppose this guest of Mr. Stephen’s may be at present?”
“I know not,” she replied, “for I am but just returned from the Manor-house. But you will be perfectly out of sight if you remain here. Master Stephen himself has never yet crossed this threshold, and I do not think he is likely to attempt it to-day.”
Mr. Cuthbridge gave a very cordial consent to this arrangement; for he felt a strong suspicion that his penitent would prefer a solitary ramble, and the loss of his dinner, to meeting him at the table.
Mrs. Mathews, therefore, left him, and carried her book and her work into the drawing-room; but her usually tranquil state of spirits had been too much disturbed to permit her occupying herself either by book or work, and as the setting sun still shed a bright gleam over the lawn, she enveloped herself in the ever-ready shawl which hung in the hall, and strolled out into the garden.