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diff --git a/1628-h/1628-h.htm b/1628-h/1628-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..578b11c --- /dev/null +++ b/1628-h/1628-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7457 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + My Lady's Money, by Wilkie Collins + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Lady's Money, by Wilkie Collins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Lady's Money + +Author: Wilkie Collins + +Release Date: March 21, 2006 [EBook #1628] +Last Updated: September 13, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY LADY'S MONEY *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + MY LADY’S MONEY<br /><br /> AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF A YOUNG GIRL + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Wilkie Collins + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> <b>PART THE FIRST.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART THE SECOND.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> POSTSCRIPT. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + PERSONS OF THE STORY + </h3> + <p> + Women: + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard (Widow of Lord Lydiard) + </p> + <p> + Isabel Miller (her Adopted Daughter) + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink (of South Morden) + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Mrs. Drumblade (Sister to the Hon. A. Hardyman) + </p> + <p> + Men + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Alfred Hardyman (of the Stud Farm) + </p> + <p> + Mr. Felix Sweetsir (Lady Lydiard’s Nephew) + </p> + <p> + Robert Moody (Lady Lydiard’s Steward) + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy (Lady Lydiard’s Lawyer) + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon (in the Byways of Legal Bohemia) + </p> + <p> + Animal + </p> + <p> + Tommie (Lady Lydiard’s Dog) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART THE FIRST. + </h2> + <h3> + THE DISAPPEARANCE. + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + OLD Lady Lydiard sat meditating by the fireside, with three letters lying + open on her lap. + </p> + <p> + Time had discolored the paper, and had turned the ink to a brownish hue. + The letters were all addressed to the same person—“THE RT. HON. LORD + LYDIARD”—and were all signed in the same way—“Your + affectionate cousin, James Tollmidge.” Judged by these specimens of his + correspondence, Mr. Tollmidge must have possessed one great merit as a + letter-writer—the merit of brevity. He will weary nobody’s patience, + if he is allowed to have a hearing. Let him, therefore, be permitted, in + his own high-flown way, to speak for himself. + </p> + <p> + <i>First Letter.</i>—“My statement, as your Lordship requests, shall + be short and to the point. I was doing very well as a portrait-painter in + the country; and I had a wife and children to consider. Under the + circumstances, if I had been left to decide for myself, I should certainly + have waited until I had saved a little money before I ventured on the + serious expense of taking a house and studio at the west end of London. + Your Lordship, I positively declare, encouraged me to try the experiment + without waiting. And here I am, unknown and unemployed, a helpless artist + lost in London—with a sick wife and hungry children, and bankruptcy + staring me in the face. On whose shoulders does this dreadful + responsibility rest? On your Lordship’s!” + </p> + <p> + <i>Second Letter.</i>—“After a week’s delay, you favor me, my Lord, + with a curt reply. I can be equally curt on my side. I indignantly deny + that I or my wife ever presumed to see your Lordship’s name as a means of + recommendation to sitters without your permission. Some enemy has + slandered us. I claim as my right to know the name of that enemy.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Third (and last) Letter.</i>—“Another week has passed—and + not a word of answer has reached me from your Lordship. It matters little. + I have employed the interval in making inquiries, and I have at last + discovered the hostile influence which has estranged you from me. I have + been, it seems, so unfortunate as to offend Lady Lydiard (how, I cannot + imagine); and the all-powerful influence of this noble lady is now used + against the struggling artist who is united to you by the sacred ties of + kindred. Be it so. I can fight my way upwards, my Lord, as other men have + done before me. A day may yet come when the throng of carriages waiting at + the door of the fashionable portrait-painter will include her Ladyship’s + vehicle, and bring me the tardy expression of her Ladyship’s regret. I + refer you, my Lord Lydiard, to that day!” + </p> + <p> + Having read Mr. Tollmidge’s formidable assertions relating to herself for + the second time, Lady Lydiard’s meditations came to an abrupt end. She + rose, took the letters in both hands to tear them up, hesitated, and threw + them back in the cabinet drawer in which she had discovered them, among + other papers that had not been arranged since Lord Lydiard’s death. + </p> + <p> + “The idiot!” said her Ladyship, thinking of Mr. Tollmidge, “I never even + heard of him, in my husband’s lifetime; I never even knew that he was + really related to Lord Lydiard, till I found his letters. What is to be + done next?” + </p> + <p> + She looked, as she put that question to herself, at an open newspaper + thrown on the table, which announced the death of “that accomplished + artist Mr. Tollmidge, related, it is said, to the late well-known + connoisseur, Lord Lydiard.” In the next sentence the writer of the + obituary notice deplored the destitute condition of Mrs. Tollmidge and her + children, “thrown helpless on the mercy of the world.” Lady Lydiard stood + by the table with her eyes on those lines, and saw but too plainly the + direction in which they pointed—the direction of her check-book. + </p> + <p> + Turning towards the fireplace, she rang the bell. “I can do nothing in + this matter,” she thought to herself, “until I know whether the report + about Mrs. Tollmidge and her family is to be depended on. Has Moody come + back?” she asked, when the servant appeared at the door. “Moody” + (otherwise her Ladyship’s steward) had not come back. Lady Lydiard + dismissed the subject of the artist’s widow from further consideration + until the steward returned, and gave her mind to a question of domestic + interest which lay nearer to her heart. Her favorite dog had been ailing + for some time past, and no report of him had reached her that morning. She + opened a door near the fireplace, which led, through a little corridor + hung with rare prints, to her own boudoir. “Isabel!” she called out, “how + is Tommie?” + </p> + <p> + A fresh young voice answered from behind the curtain which closed the + further end of the corridor, “No better, my Lady.” + </p> + <p> + A low growl followed the fresh young voice, and added (in dog’s language), + “Much worse, my Lady—much worse!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard closed the door again, with a compassionate sigh for Tommie, + and walked slowly to and fro in her spacious drawing-room, waiting for the + steward’s return. + </p> + <p> + Accurately described, Lord Lydiard’s widow was short and fat, and, in the + matter of age, perilously near her sixtieth birthday. But it may be said, + without paying a compliment, that she looked younger than her age by ten + years at least. Her complexion was of that delicate pink tinge which is + sometimes seen in old women with well-preserved constitutions. Her eyes + (equally well preserved) were of that hard light blue color which wears + well, and does not wash out when tried by the test of tears. Add to this + her short nose, her plump cheeks that set wrinkles at defiance, her white + hair dressed in stiff little curls; and, if a doll could grow old, Lady + Lydiard, at sixty, would have been the living image of that doll, taking + life easily on its journey downwards to the prettiest of tombs, in a + burial-ground where the myrtles and roses grew all the year round. + </p> + <p> + These being her Ladyship’s personal merits, impartial history must + acknowledge, on the list of her defects, a total want of tact and taste in + her attire. The lapse of time since Lord Lydiard’s death had left her at + liberty to dress as she pleased. She arrayed her short, clumsy figure in + colors that were far too bright for a woman of her age. Her dresses, + badly chosen as to their hues, were perhaps not badly made, but were + certainly badly worn. Morally, as well as physically, it must be said of + Lady Lydiard that her outward side was her worst side. The anomalies of + her dress were matched by the anomalies of her character. There were + moments when she felt and spoke as became a lady of rank; and there were + other moments when she felt and spoke as might have become the cook in the + kitchen. Beneath these superficial inconsistencies, the great heart, the + essentially true and generous nature of the woman, only waited the + sufficient occasion to assert themselves. In the trivial intercourse of + society she was open to ridicule on every side of her. But when a serious + emergency tried the metal of which she was really made, the people who + were loudest in laughing at her stood aghast, and wondered what had become + of the familiar companion of their everyday lives. + </p> + <p> + Her Ladyship’s promenade had lasted but a little while, when a man in + black clothing presented himself noiselessly at the great door which + opened on the staircase. Lady Lydiard signed to him impatiently to enter + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I have been expecting you for some time, Moody,” she said. “You look + tired. Take a chair.” + </p> + <p> + The man in black bowed respectfully, and took his seat. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + ROBERT MOODY was at this time nearly forty years of age. He was a shy, + quiet, dark person, with a pale, closely-shaven face, agreeably animated + by large black eyes, set deep in their orbits. His mouth was perhaps his + best feature; he had firm, well-shaped lips, which softened on rare + occasions into a particularly winning smile. The whole look of the man, in + spite of his habitual reserve, declared him to be eminently trustworthy. + His position in Lady Lydiard’s household was in no sense of the menial + sort. He acted as her almoner and secretary as well as her steward—distributed + her charities, wrote her letters on business, paid her bills, engaged her + servants, stocked her wine-cellar, was authorized to borrow books from her + library, and was served with his meals in his own room. His parentage gave + him claims to these special favors; he was by birth entitled to rank as a + gentleman. His father had failed at a time of commercial panic as a + country banker, had paid a good dividend, and had died in exile abroad a + broken-hearted man. Robert had tried to hold his place in the world, but + adverse fortune kept him down. Undeserved disaster followed him from one + employment to another, until he abandoned the struggle, bade a last + farewell to the pride of other days, and accepted the position + considerately and delicately offered to him in Lady Lydiard’s house. He + had now no near relations living, and he had never made many friends. In + the intervals of occupation he led a lonely life in his little room. It + was a matter of secret wonder among the women in the servants’ hall, + considering his personal advantages and the opportunities which must + surely have been thrown in his way, that he had never tempted fortune in + the character of a married man. Robert Moody entered into no explanations + on that subject. In his own sad and quiet way he continued to lead his own + sad and quiet life. The women all failing, from the handsome housekeeper + downward, to make the smallest impression on him, consoled themselves by + prophetic visions of his future relations with the sex, and predicted + vindictively that “his time would come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lady Lydiard, “and what have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “Your Ladyship seemed to be anxious about the dog,” Moody answered, in the + low tone which was habitual to him. “I went first to the veterinary + surgeon. He had been called away into the country; and—” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard waved away the conclusion of the sentence with her hand. + “Never mind the surgeon. We must find somebody else. Where did you go + next?” + </p> + <p> + “To your Ladyship’s lawyer. Mr. Troy wished me to say that he will have + the honor of waiting on you—” + </p> + <p> + “Pass over the lawyer, Moody. I want to know about the painter’s widow. Is + it true that Mrs. Tollmidge and her family are left in helpless poverty?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite true, my Lady. I have seen the clergyman of the parish, who + takes an interest in the case—” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard interrupted her steward for the third time. “Did you mention + my name?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, my Lady. I followed my instructions, and described you as + a benevolent person in search of cases of real distress. It is quite true + that Mr. Tollmidge has died, leaving nothing to his family. But the widow + has a little income of seventy pounds in her own right.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that enough to live on, Moody?” her Ladyship asked. + </p> + <p> + “Enough, in this case, for the widow and her daughter,” Moody answered. + “The difficulty is to pay the few debts left standing, and to start the + two sons in life. They are reported to be steady lads; and the family is + much respected in the neighborhood. The clergyman proposes to get a few + influential names to begin with, and to start a subscription.” + </p> + <p> + “No subscription!” protested Lady Lydiard. “Mr. Tollmidge was Lord + Lydiard’s cousin; and Mrs. Tollmidge is related to his Lordship by + marriage. It would be degrading to my husband’s memory to have the + begging-box sent round for his relations, no matter how distant they may + be. Cousins!” exclaimed her Ladyship, suddenly descending from the lofty + ranges of sentiment to the low. “I hate the very name of them! A person + who is near enough to me to be my relation and far enough off from me to + be my sweetheart, is a double-faced sort of person that I don’t like. + Let’s get back to the widow and her sons. How much do they want?” + </p> + <p> + “A subscription of five hundred pounds, my Lady, would provide for + everything—if it could only be collected.” + </p> + <p> + “It <i>shall</i> be collected, Moody! I will pay the subscription out of + my own purse.” Having asserted herself in those noble terms, she spoilt + the effect of her own outburst of generosity by dropping to the sordid + view of the subject in her next sentence. “Five hundred pounds is a good + bit of money, though; isn’t it, Moody?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed, my Lady.” Rich and generous as he knew his mistress to be, + her proposal to pay the whole subscription took the steward by surprise. + Lady Lydiard’s quick perception instantly detected what was passing in his + mind. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t quite understand my position in this matter,” she said. “When I + read the newspaper notice of Mr. Tollmidge’s death, I searched among his + Lordship’s papers to see if they really were related. I discovered some + letters from Mr. Tollmidge, which showed me that he and Lord Lydiard were + cousins. One of those letters contains some very painful statements, + reflecting most untruly and unjustly on my conduct; lies, in short,” her + Ladyship burst out, losing her dignity, as usual. “Lies, Moody, for which + Mr. Tollmidge deserved to be horsewhipped. I would have done it myself if + his Lordship had told me at the time. No matter; it’s useless to dwell on + the thing now,” she continued, ascending again to the forms of expression + which became a lady of rank. “This unhappy man has done me a gross + injustice; my motives may be seriously misjudged, if I appear personally + in communicating with his family. If I relieve them anonymously in their + present trouble, I spare them the exposure of a public subscription, and I + do what I believe his Lordship would have done himself if he had lived. My + desk is on the other table. Bring it here, Moody; and let me return good + for evil, while I’m in the humor for it!” + </p> + <p> + Moody obeyed in silence. Lady Lydiard wrote a check. + </p> + <p> + “Take that to the banker’s, and bring back a five-hundred pound note,” she + said. “I’ll inclose it to the clergyman as coming from ‘an unknown + friend.’ And be quick about it. I am only a fallible mortal, Moody. Don’t + leave me time enough to take the stingy view of five hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Moody went out with the check. No delay was to be apprehended in obtaining + the money; the banking-house was hard by, in St. James’s Street. Left + alone, Lady Lydiard decided on occupying her mind in the generous + direction by composing her anonymous letter to the clergyman. She had just + taken a sheet of note-paper from her desk, when a servant appeared at the + door announcing a visitor— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Felix Sweetsir!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + “MY nephew!” Lady Lydiard exclaimed in a tone which expressed + astonishment, but certainly not pleasure as well. “How many years is it + since you and I last met?” she asked, in her abruptly straightforward way, + as Mr. Felix Sweetsir approached her writing-table. + </p> + <p> + The visitor was not a person easily discouraged. He took Lady Lydiard’s + hand, and kissed it with easy grace. A shade of irony was in his manner, + agreeably relieved by a playful flash of tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “Years, my dear aunt?” he said. “Look in your glass and you will see that + time has stood still since we met last. How wonderfully well you wear! + When shall we celebrate the appearance of your first wrinkle? I am too + old; I shall never live to see it.” + </p> + <p> + He took an easychair, uninvited; placed himself close at his aunt’s side, + and ran his eye over her ill-chosen dress with an air of satirical + admiration. “How perfectly successful!” he said, with his well-bred + insolence. “What a chaste gayety of color!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” asked her Ladyship, not in the least softened by the + compliment. + </p> + <p> + “I want to pay my respects to my dear aunt,” Felix answered, perfectly + impenetrable to his ungracious reception, and perfectly comfortable in a + spacious arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + No pen-and-ink portrait need surely be drawn of Felix Sweetsir—he is + too well-known a picture in society. The little lithe man, with his + bright, restless eyes, and his long iron-gray hair falling in curls to his + shoulders, his airy step and his cordial manner; his uncertain age, his + innumerable accomplishments, and his unbounded popularity—is he not + familiar everywhere, and welcome everywhere? How gratefully he receives, + how prodigally he repays, the cordial appreciation of an admiring world! + Every man he knows is “a charming fellow.” Every woman he sees is “sweetly + pretty.” What picnics he gives on the banks of the Thames in the summer + season! What a well-earned little income he derives from the whist-table! + What an inestimable actor he is at private theatricals of all sorts + (weddings included)! Did you never read Sweetsir’s novel, dashed off in + the intervals of curative perspiration at a German bath? Then you don’t + know what brilliant fiction really is. He has never written a second work; + he does everything, and only does it once. One song—the despair of + professional composers. One picture—just to show how easily a + gentleman can take up an art and drop it again. A really multiform man, + with all the graces and all the accomplishments scintillating perpetually + at his fingers’ ends. If these poor pages have achieved nothing else, they + have done a service to persons not in society by presenting them to + Sweetsir. In his gracious company the narrative brightens; and writer and + reader (catching reflected brilliancy) understand each other at last, + thanks to Sweetsir. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lady Lydiard, “now you are here, what have you got to say for + yourself? You have been abroad, of course! Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Principally at Paris, my dear aunt. The only place that is fit to live in—for + this excellent reason, that the French are the only people who know how to + make the most of life. One has relations and friends in England and every + now and then one returns to London—” + </p> + <p> + “When one has spent all one’s money in Paris,” her Ladyship interposed. + “That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Felix submitted to the interruption with his delightful good-humor. + </p> + <p> + “What a bright creature you are!” he exclaimed. “What would I not give for + your flow of spirits! Yes—one does spend money in Paris, as you say. + The clubs, the stock exchange, the race-course: you try your luck here, + there, and everywhere; and you lose and win, win and lose—and you + haven’t a dull day to complain of.” He paused, his smile died away, he + looked inquiringly at Lady Lydiard. “What a wonderful existence yours must + be,” he resumed. “The everlasting question with your needy + fellow-creatures, ‘Where am I to get money?’ is a question that has never + passed your lips. Enviable woman!” He paused once more—surprised and + puzzled this time. “What is the matter, my dear aunt? You seem to be + suffering under some uneasiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I am suffering under your conversation,” her Ladyship answered sharply. + “Money is a sore subject with me just now,” she went on, with her eyes on + her nephew, watching the effect of what she said. “I have spent five + hundred pounds this morning with a scrape of my pen. And, only a week + since, I yielded to temptation and made an addition to my + picture-gallery.” She looked, as she said those words, towards an archway + at the further end of the room, closed by curtains of purple velvet. “I + really tremble when I think of what that one picture cost me before I + could call it mine. A landscape by Hobbema; and the National Gallery + bidding against me. Never mind!” she concluded, consoling herself, as + usual, with considerations that were beneath her. “Hobbema will sell at my + death for a bigger price than I gave for him—that’s one comfort!” + She looked again at Felix; a smile of mischievous satisfaction began to + show itself in her face. “Anything wrong with your watch-chain?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + Felix, absently playing with his watch-chain, started as if his aunt had + suddenly awakened him. While Lady Lydiard had been speaking, his vivacity + had subsided little by little, and had left him looking so serious and so + old that his most intimate friend would hardly have known him again. + Roused by the sudden question that had been put to him, he seemed to be + casting about in his mind in search of the first excuse for his silence + that might turn up. + </p> + <p> + “I was wondering,” he began, “why I miss something when I look round this + beautiful room; something familiar, you know, that I fully expected to + find here.” + </p> + <p> + “Tommie?” suggested Lady Lydiard, still watching her nephew as maliciously + as ever. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it!” cried Felix, seizing his excuse, and rallying his spirits. + “Why don’t I hear Tommie snarling behind me; why don’t I feel Tommie’s + teeth in my trousers?” + </p> + <p> + The smile vanished from Lady Lydiard’s face; the tone taken by her nephew + in speaking of her dog was disrespectful in the extreme. She showed him + plainly that she disapproved of it. Felix went on, nevertheless, + impenetrable to reproof of the silent sort. “Dear little Tommie! So + delightfully fat; and such an infernal temper! I don’t know whether I hate + him or love him. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Ill in bed,” answered her ladyship, with a gravity which startled even + Felix himself. “I wish to speak to you about Tommie. You know everybody. + Do you know of a good dog-doctor? The person I have employed so far + doesn’t at all satisfy me.” + </p> + <p> + “Professional person?” inquired Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “All humbugs, my dear aunt. The worse the dog gets the bigger the bill + grows, don’t you see? I have got the man for you—a gentleman. Knows + more about horses and dogs than all the veterinary surgeons put together. + We met in the boat yesterday crossing the Channel. You know him by name, + of course? Lord Rotherfield’s youngest son, Alfred Hardyman.” + </p> + <p> + “The owner of the stud farm? The man who has bred the famous racehorses?” + cried Lady Lydiard. “My dear Felix, how can I presume to trouble such a + great personage about my dog?” + </p> + <p> + Felix burst into his genial laugh. “Never was modesty more woefully out of + place,” he rejoined. “Hardyman is dying to be presented to your Ladyship. + He has heard, like everybody, of the magnificent decorations of this + house, and he is longing to see them. His chambers are close by, in Pall + Mall. If he is at home we will have him here in five minutes. Perhaps I + had better see the dog first?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard shook her head. “Isabel says he had better not be disturbed,” + she answered. “Isabel understands him better than anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Felix lifted his lively eyebrows with a mixed expression of curiosity and + surprise. “Who is Isabel?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard was vexed with herself for carelessly mentioning Isabel’s + name in her nephew’s presence. Felix was not the sort of person whom she + was desirous of admitting to her confidence in domestic matters. “Isabel + is an addition to my household since you were here last,” she answered + shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Young and pretty?” inquired Felix. “Ah! you look serious, and you don’t + answer me. Young and pretty, evidently. Which may I see first, the + addition to your household or the addition to your picture-gallery? You + look at the picture-gallery—I am answered again.” He rose to + approach the archway, and stopped at his first step forward. “A sweet girl + is a dreadful responsibility, aunt,” he resumed, with an ironical + assumption of gravity. “Do you know, I shouldn’t be surprised if Isabel, + in the long run, cost you more than Hobbema. Who is this at the door?” + </p> + <p> + The person at the door was Robert Moody, returned from the bank. Mr. Felix + Sweetsir, being near-sighted, was obliged to fit his eye-glass in position + before he could recognize the prime minister of Lady Lydiard’s household. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! our worthy Moody. How well he wears! Not a gray hair on his head—and + look at mine! What dye do you use, Moody? If he had my open disposition he + would tell. As it is, he looks unutterable things, and holds his tongue. + Ah! if I could only have held <i>my</i> tongue—when I was in the + diplomatic service, you know—what a position I might have occupied + by this time! Don’t let me interrupt you, Moody, if you have anything to + say to Lady Lydiard.” + </p> + <p> + Having acknowledged Mr. Sweetsir’s lively greeting by a formal bow, and a + grave look of wonder which respectfully repelled that vivacious + gentleman’s flow of humor, Moody turned towards his mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got the bank-note?” asked her Ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Moody laid the bank-note on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Am I in the way?” inquired Felix. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said his aunt. “I have a letter to write; it won’t occupy me for + more than a few minutes. You can stay here, or go and look at the Hobbema, + which you please.” + </p> + <p> + Felix made a second sauntering attempt to reach the picture-gallery. + Arrived within a few steps of the entrance, he stopped again, attracted by + an open cabinet of Italian workmanship, filled with rare old china. Being + nothing if not a cultivated amateur, Mr. Sweetsir paused to pay his + passing tribute of admiration before the contents of the cabinet. + “Charming! charming!” he said to himself, with his head twisted + appreciatively a little on one side. Lady Lydiard and Moody left him in + undisturbed enjoyment of the china, and went on with the business of the + bank-note. + </p> + <p> + “Ought we to take the number of the note, in case of accident?” asked her + Ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Moody produced a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket. “I took the + number, my Lady, at the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. You keep it. While I am writing my letter, suppose you direct + the envelope. What is the clergyman’s name?” + </p> + <p> + Moody mentioned the name and directed the envelope. Felix, happening to + look round at Lady Lydiard and the steward while they were both engaged in + writing, returned suddenly to the table as if he had been struck by a new + idea. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a third pen?” he asked. “Why shouldn’t I write a line at once to + Hardyman, aunt? The sooner you have his opinion about Tommie the better—don’t + you think so?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard pointed to the pen tray, with a smile. To show consideration + for her dog was to seize irresistibly on the high-road to her favor. Felix + set to work on his letter, in a large scrambling handwriting, with plenty + of ink and a noisy pen. “I declare we are like clerks in an office,” he + remarked, in his cheery way. “All with our noses to the paper, writing as + if we lived by it! Here, Moody, let one of the servants take this at once + to Mr. Hardyman’s.” + </p> + <p> + The messenger was despatched. Robert returned, and waited near his + mistress, with the directed envelope in his hand. Felix sauntered back + slowly towards the picture-gallery, for the third time. In a moment more + Lady Lydiard finished her letter, and folded up the bank-note in it. She + had just taken the directed envelope from Moody, and had just placed the + letter inside it, when a scream from the inner room, in which Isabel was + nursing the sick dog, startled everybody. “My Lady! my Lady!” cried the + girl, distractedly, “Tommie is in a fit? Tommie is dying!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard dropped the unclosed envelope on the table, and ran—yes, + short as she was and fat as she was, ran—into the inner room. The + two men, left together, looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Moody,” said Felix, in his lazily-cynical way, “do you think if you or I + were in a fit that her Ladyship would run? Bah! these are the things that + shake one’s faith in human nature. I feel infernally seedy. That cursed + Channel passage—I tremble in my inmost stomach when I think of it. + Get me something, Moody.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I send you, sir?” Moody asked coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Some dry curacoa and a biscuit. And let it be brought to me in the + picture-gallery. Damn the dog! I’ll go and look at Hobbema.” + </p> + <p> + This time he succeeded in reaching the archway, and disappeared behind the + curtains of the picture-gallery. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + LEFT alone in the drawing-room, Moody looked at the unfastened envelope on + the table. + </p> + <p> + Considering the value of the inclosure, might he feel justified in wetting + the gum and securing the envelope for safety’s sake? After thinking it + over, Moody decided that he was not justified in meddling with the letter. + On reflection, her Ladyship might have changes to make in it or might have + a postscript to add to what she had already written. Apart too, from these + considerations, was it reasonable to act as if Lady Lydiard’s house was a + hotel, perpetually open to the intrusion of strangers? Objects worth twice + five hundred pounds in the aggregate were scattered about on the tables + and in the unlocked cabinets all round him. Moody withdrew, without + further hesitation, to order the light restorative prescribed for himself + by Mr. Sweetsir. + </p> + <p> + The footman who took the curacoa into the picture gallery found Felix + recumbent on a sofa, admiring the famous Hobbema. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t interrupt me,” he said peevishly, catching the servant in the act + of staring at him. “Put down the bottle and go!” Forbidden to look at Mr. + Sweetsir, the man’s eyes as he left the gallery turned wonderingly towards + the famous landscape. And what did he see? He saw one towering big cloud + in the sky that threatened rain, two withered mahogany-colored trees + sorely in want of rain, a muddy road greatly the worse for rain, and a + vagabond boy running home who was afraid of the rain. That was the + picture, to the footman’s eye. He took a gloomy view of the state of Mr. + Sweetsir’s brains on his return to the servants’ hall. “A slate loose, + poor devil!” That was the footman’s report of the brilliant Felix. + </p> + <p> + Immediately on the servant’s departure, the silence in the picture-gallery + was broken by voices penetrating into it from the drawing-room. Felix rose + to a sitting position on the sofa. He had recognized the voice of Alfred + Hardyman saying, “Don’t disturb Lady Lydiard,” and the voice of Moody + answering, “I will just knock at the door of her Ladyship’s room, sir; you + will find Mr. Sweetsir in the picture-gallery.” + </p> + <p> + The curtains over the archway parted, and disclosed the figure of a tall + man, with a closely cropped head set a little stiffly on his shoulders. + The immovable gravity of face and manner which every Englishman seems to + acquire who lives constantly in the society of horses, was the gravity + which this gentleman displayed as he entered the picture-gallery. He was a + finely made, sinewy man, with clearly cut, regular features. If he had not + been affected with horses on the brain he would doubtless have been + personally popular with the women. As it was, the serene and hippic gloom + of the handsome horse-breeder daunted the daughters of Eve, and they + failed to make up their minds about the exact value of him, socially + considered. Alfred Hardyman was nevertheless a remarkable man in his way. + He had been offered the customary alternatives submitted to the younger + sons of the nobility—the Church or the diplomatic service—and + had refused the one and the other. “I like horses,” he said, “and I mean + to get my living out of them. Don’t talk to me about my position in the + world. Talk to my eldest brother, who gets the money and the title.” + Starting in life with these sensible views, and with a small capital of + five thousand pounds, Hardyman took his own place in the sphere that was + fitted for him. At the period of this narrative he was already a rich man, + and one of the greatest authorities on horse-breeding in England. His + prosperity made no change in him. He was always the same grave, quiet, + obstinately resolute man—true to the few friends whom he admitted to + his intimacy, and sincere to a fault in the expression of his feelings + among persons whom he distrusted or disliked. As he entered the + picture-gallery and paused for a moment looking at Felix on the sofa, his + large, cold, steady gray eyes rested on the little man with an + indifference that just verged on contempt. Felix, on the other hand, + sprang to his feet with alert politeness and greeted his friend with + exuberant cordiality. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old boy! This is so good of you,” he began. “I feel it—I do + assure you I feel it!” + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t trouble yourself to feel it,” was the quietly-ungracious + answer. “Lady Lydiard brings me here. I come to see the house—and + the dog.” He looked round the gallery in his gravely attentive way. “I + don’t understand pictures,” he remarked resignedly. “I shall go back to + the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s consideration, Felix followed him into the drawing-room, + with the air of a man who was determined not to be repelled. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Hardyman. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “About that matter?” Felix said, inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “What matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know. Will next week do?” + </p> + <p> + “Next week <i>won’t</i> do.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Felix Sweetsir cast one look at his friend. His friend was too + intently occupied with the decorations of the drawing-room to notice the + look. + </p> + <p> + “Will to-morrow do?” Felix resumed, after an interval. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time?” + </p> + <p> + “Between twelve and one in the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Between twelve and one in the afternoon,” Felix repeated. He looked again + at Hardyman and took his hat. “Make my apologies to my aunt,” he said. + “You must introduce yourself to her Ladyship. I can’t wait here any + longer.” He walked out of the room, having deliberately returned the + contemptuous indifference of Hardyman by a similar indifference on his own + side, at parting. + </p> + <p> + Left by himself, Hardyman took a chair and glanced at the door which led + into the boudoir. The steward had knocked at that door, had disappeared + through it, and had not appeared again. How much longer was Lady Lydiard’s + visitor to be left unnoticed in Lady Lydiard’s house? + </p> + <p> + As the question passed through his mind the boudoir door opened. For once + in his life, Alfred Hardyman’s composure deserted him. He started to his + feet, like an ordinary mortal taken completely by surprise. + </p> + <p> + Instead of Mr. Moody, instead of Lady Lydiard, there appeared in the open + doorway a young woman in a state of embarrassment, who actually quickened + the beat of Mr. Hardyman’s heart the moment he set eyes on her. Was the + person who produced this amazing impression at first sight a person of + importance? Nothing of the sort. She was only “Isabel” surnamed “Miller.” + Even her name had nothing in it. Only “Isabel Miller!” + </p> + <p> + Had she any pretensions to distinction in virtue of her personal + appearance? + </p> + <p> + It is not easy to answer the question. The women (let us put the worst + judges first) had long since discovered that she wanted that indispensable + elegance of figure which is derived from slimness of waist and length of + limb. The men (who were better acquainted with the subject) looked at her + figure from their point of view; and, finding it essentially embraceable, + asked for nothing more. It might have been her bright complexion or it + might have been the bold luster of her eyes (as the women considered it), + that dazzled the lords of creation generally, and made them all alike + incompetent to discover her faults. Still, she had compensating + attractions which no severity of criticism could dispute. Her smile, + beginning at her lips, flowed brightly and instantly over her whole face. + A delicious atmosphere of health, freshness, and good humor seemed to + radiate from her wherever she went and whatever she did. For the rest her + brown hair grew low over her broad white forehead, and was topped by a + neat little lace cap with ribbons of a violet color. A plain collar and + plain cuffs encircled her smooth, round neck, and her plump dimpled hands. + Her merino dress, covering but not hiding the charming outline of her + bosom, matched the color of the cap-ribbons, and was brightened by a white + muslin apron coquettishly trimmed about the pockets, a gift from Lady + Lydiard. Blushing and smiling, she let the door fall to behind her, and, + shyly approaching the stranger, said to him, in her small, clear voice, + “If you please, sir, are you Mr. Hardyman?” + </p> + <p> + The gravity of the great horse-breeder deserted him at her first question. + He smiled as he acknowledged that he was “Mr. Hardyman”—he smiled as + he offered her a chair. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, sir,” she said, with a quaintly pretty inclination of her + head. “I am only sent here to make her Ladyship’s apologies. She has put + the poor dear dog into a warm bath, and she can’t leave him. And Mr. Moody + can’t come instead of me, because I was too frightened to be of any use, + and so he had to hold the dog. That’s all. We are very anxious sir, to + know if the warm bath is the right thing. Please come into the room and + tell us.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way back to the door. Hardyman, naturally enough, was slow to + follow her. When a man is fascinated by the charm of youth and beauty, he + is in no hurry to transfer his attention to a sick animal in a bath. + Hardyman seized on the first excuse that he could devise for keeping + Isabel to himself—that is to say, for keeping her in the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall be better able to help you,” he said, “if you will tell + me something about the dog first.” + </p> + <p> + Even his accent in speaking had altered to a certain degree. The quiet, + dreary monotone in which he habitually spoke quickened a little under his + present excitement. As for Isabel, she was too deeply interested in + Tommie’s welfare to suspect that she was being made the victim of a + stratagem. She left the door and returned to Hardyman with eager eyes. + “What can I tell you, sir?” she asked innocently. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman pressed his advantage without mercy. + </p> + <p> + “You can tell me what sort of dog he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How old he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What his name is?—what his temper is?—what his illness is? + what diseases his father and mother had?—what—” + </p> + <p> + Isabel’s head began to turn giddy. “One thing at a time, sir!” she + interposed, with a gesture of entreaty. “The dog sleeps on my bed, and I + had a bad night with him, he disturbed me so, and I am afraid I am very + stupid this morning. His name is Tommie. We are obliged to call him by it, + because he won’t answer to any other than the name he had when my Lady + bought him. But we spell it with an <i>i e</i> at the end, which makes it + less vulgar than Tommy with a <i>y</i>. I am very sorry, sir—I + forget what else you wanted to know. Please to come in here and my Lady + will tell you everything.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to get back to the door of the boudoir. Hardyman, feasting his + eyes on the pretty, changeful face that looked up at him with such + innocent confidence in his authority, drew her away from the door by the + one means at his disposal. He returned to his questions about Tommie. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little, please. What sort of dog is he?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel turned back again from the door. To describe Tommie was a labor of + love. “He is the most beautiful dog in the world!” the girl began, with + kindling eyes. “He has the most exquisite white curly hair and two light + brown patches on his back—and, oh! <i>such</i> lovely dark eyes! + They call him a Scotch terrier. When he is well his appetite is truly + wonderful—nothing comes amiss to him, sir, from pate de foie gras to + potatoes. He has his enemies, poor dear, though you wouldn’t think it. + People who won’t put up with being bitten by him (what shocking tempers + one does meet with, to be sure!) call him a mongrel. Isn’t it a shame? + Please come in and see him, sir; my Lady will be tired of waiting.” + </p> + <p> + Another journey to the door followed those words, checked instantly by a + serious objection. + </p> + <p> + “Stop a minute! You must tell me what his temper is, or I can do nothing + for him.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel returned once more, feeling that it was really serious this time. + Her gravity was even more charming than her gayety. As she lifted her face + to him, with large solemn eyes, expressive of her sense of responsibility, + Hardyman would have given every horse in his stables to have had the + privilege of taking her in his arms and kissing her. + </p> + <p> + “Tommie has the temper of an angel with the people he likes,” she said. + “When he bites, it generally means that he objects to strangers. He loves + my Lady, and he loves Mr. Moody, and he loves me, and—and I think + that’s all. This way, sir, if you please, I am sure I heard my Lady call.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Hardyman, in his immovably obstinate way. “Nobody called. About + this dog’s temper? Doesn’t he take to any strangers? What sort of people + does he bite in general?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel’s pretty lips began to curl upward at the corners in a quaint + smile. Hardyman’s last imbecile question had opened her eyes to the true + state of the case. Still, Tommie’s future was in this strange gentleman’s + hands; she felt bound to consider that. And, moreover, it was no everyday + event, in Isabel’s experience, to fascinate a famous personage, who was + also a magnificent and perfectly dressed man. She ran the risk of wasting + another minute or two, and went on with the memoirs of Tommie. + </p> + <p> + “I must own, sir,” she resumed, “that he behaves a little ungratefully—even + to strangers who take an interest in him. When he gets lost in the streets + (which is very often), he sits down on the pavement and howls till he + collects a pitying crowd round him; and when they try to read his name and + address on his collar he snaps at them. The servants generally find him + and bring him back; and as soon as he gets home he turns round on the + doorstep and snaps at the servants. I think it must be his fun. You should + see him sitting up in his chair at dinner-time, waiting to be helped, with + his fore paws on the edge of the table, like the hands of a gentleman at a + public dinner making a speech. But, oh!” cried Isabel, checking herself, + with the tears in her eyes, “how can I talk of him in this way when he is + so dreadfully ill! Some of them say it’s bronchitis, and some say it’s his + liver. Only yesterday I took him to the front door to give him a little + air, and he stood still on the pavement, quite stupefied. For the first + time in his life, he snapped at nobody who went by; and, oh, dear, he + hadn’t even the heart to smell a lamp-post!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel had barely stated this last afflicting circumstance when the + memoirs of Tommie were suddenly cut short by the voice of Lady Lydiard—really + calling this time—from the inner room. + </p> + <p> + “Isabel! Isabel!” cried her Ladyship, “what are you about?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel ran to the door of the boudoir and threw it open. “Go in, sir! Pray + go in!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Without you?” Hardyman asked. + </p> + <p> + “I will follow you, sir. I have something to do for her Ladyship first.” + </p> + <p> + She still held the door open, and pointed entreatingly to the passage + which led to the boudoir “I shall be blamed, sir,” she said, “if you don’t + go in.” + </p> + <p> + This statement of the case left Hardyman no alternative. He presented + himself to Lady Lydiard without another moment of delay. + </p> + <p> + Having closed the drawing-room door on him, Isabel waited a little, + absorbed in her own thoughts. + </p> + <p> + She was now perfectly well aware of the effect which she had produced on + Hardyman. Her vanity, it is not to be denied, was flattered by his + admiration—he was so grand and so tall, and he had such fine large + eyes. The girl looked prettier than ever as she stood with her head down + and her color heightened, smiling to herself. A clock on the chimney-piece + striking the half-hour roused her. She cast one look at the glass, as she + passed it, and went to the table at which Lady Lydiard had been writing. + </p> + <p> + Methodical Mr. Moody, in submitting to be employed as bath-attendant upon + Tommie, had not forgotten the interests of his mistress. He reminded her + Ladyship that she had left her letter, with a bank-note inclosed in it, + unsealed. Absorbed in the dog, Lady Lydiard answered, “Isabel is doing + nothing, let Isabel seal it. Show Mr. Hardyman in here,” she continued, + turning to Isabel, “and then seal a letter of mine which you will find on + the table.” “And when you have sealed it,” careful Mr. Moody added, “put + it back on the table; I will take charge of it when her Ladyship has done + with me.” + </p> + <p> + Such were the special instructions which now detained Isabel in the + drawing-room. She lighted the taper, and closed and sealed the open + envelope, without feeling curiosity enough even to look at the address. + Mr. Hardyman was the uppermost subject in her thoughts. Leaving the sealed + letter on the table, she returned to the fireplace, and studied her own + charming face attentively in the looking-glass. The time passed—and + Isabel’s reflection was still the subject of Isabel’s contemplation. “He + must see many beautiful ladies,” she thought, veering backward and forward + between pride and humility. “I wonder what he sees in Me?” + </p> + <p> + The clock struck the hour. Almost at the same moment the boudoir-door + opened, and Robert Moody, released at last from attendance on Tommie, + entered the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + “WELL?” asked Isabel eagerly, “what does Mr. Hardyman say? Does he think + he can cure Tommie?” + </p> + <p> + Moody answered a little coldly and stiffly. His dark, deeply-set eyes + rested on Isabel with an uneasy look. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hardyman seems to understand animals,” he said. “He lifted the dog’s + eyelid and looked at his eyes, and then he told us the bath was useless.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” said Isabel impatiently. “He did something, I suppose, besides + telling you that the bath was useless?” + </p> + <p> + “He took a knife out of his pocket, with a lancet in it.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel clasped her hands with a faint cry of horror. “Oh, Mr. Moody! did + he hurt Tommie?” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt him?” Moody repeated, indignant at the interest which she felt in + the animal, and the indifference which she exhibited towards the man (as + represented by himself). “Hurt him, indeed! Mr. Hardyman bled the brute—” + </p> + <p> + “Brute?” Isabel reiterated, with flashing eyes. “I know some people, Mr. + Moody, who really deserve to be called by that horrid word. If you can’t + say ‘Tommie,’ when you speak of him in my presence, be so good as to say + ‘the dog.’” + </p> + <p> + Moody yielded with the worst possible grace. “Oh, very well! Mr. Hardyman + bled the dog, and brought him to his senses directly. I am charged to tell + you—” He stopped, as if the message which he was instructed to + deliver was in the last degree distasteful to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what were you charged to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “I was to say that Mr. Hardyman will give you instructions how to treat + the dog for the future.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel hastened to the door, eager to receive her instructions. Moody + stopped her before she could open it. + </p> + <p> + “You are in a great hurry to get to Mr. Hardyman,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Isabel looked back at him in surprise. “You said just now that Mr. + Hardyman was waiting to tell me how to nurse Tommie.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him wait,” Moody rejoined sternly. “When I left him, he was + sufficiently occupied in expressing his favorable opinion of you to her + Ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + The steward’s pale face turned paler still as he said those words. With + the arrival of Isabel in Lady Lydiard’s house “his time had come”—exactly + as the women in the servants’ hall had predicted. At last the impenetrable + man felt the influence of the sex; at last he knew the passion of love + misplaced, ill-starred, hopeless love, for a woman who was young enough to + be his child. He had already spoken to Isabel more than once in terms + which told his secret plainly enough. But the smouldering fire of jealousy + in the man, fanned into flame by Hardyman, now showed itself for the first + time. His looks, even more than his words, would have warned a woman with + any knowledge of the natures of men to be careful how she answered him. + Young, giddy, and inexperienced, Isabel followed the flippant impulse of + the moment, without a thought of the consequences. “I’m sure it’s very + kind of Mr. Hardyman to speak favorably of me,” she said, with a pert + little laugh. “I hope you are not jealous of him, Mr. Moody?” + </p> + <p> + Moody was in no humor to make allowances for the unbridled gayety of youth + and good spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I hate any man who admires you,” he burst out passionately, “let him be + who he may!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel looked at her strange lover with unaffected astonishment. How + unlike Mr. Hardyman, who had treated her as a lady from first to last! + “What an odd man you are!” she said. “You can’t take a joke. I’m sure I + didn’t mean to offend you.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t offend me—you do worse, you distress me.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel’s color began to rise. The merriment died out of her face; she + looked at Moody gravely. “I don’t like to be accused of distressing people + when I don’t deserve it,” she said. “I had better leave you. Let me by, if + you please.” + </p> + <p> + Having committed one error in offending her, Moody committed another in + attempting to make his peace with her. Acting under the fear that she + would really leave him, he took her roughly by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “You are always trying to get away from me,” he said. “I wish I knew how + to make you like me, Isabel.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t allow you to call me Isabel!” she retorted, struggling to free + herself from his hold. “Let go of my arm. You hurt me.” + </p> + <p> + Moody dropped her arm with a bitter sigh. “I don’t know how to deal with + you,” he said simply. “Have some pity on me!” + </p> + <p> + If the steward had known anything of women (at Isabel’s age) he would + never have appealed to her mercy in those plain terms, and at the + unpropitious moment. “Pity you?” she repeated contemptuously. “Is that all + you have to say to me after hurting my arm? What a bear you are!” She + shrugged her shoulders and put her hands coquettishly into the pockets of + her apron. That was how she pitied him! His face turned paler and paler—he + writhed under it. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake, don’t turn everything I say to you into ridicule!” he + cried. “You know I love you with all my heart and soul. Again and again I + have asked you to be my wife—and you laugh at me as if it was a + joke. I haven’t deserved to be treated in that cruel way. It maddens me—I + can’t endure it!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel looked down on the floor, and followed the lines in the pattern of + the carpet with the end of her smart little shoe. She could hardly have + been further away from really understanding Moody if he had spoken in + Hebrew. She was partly startled, partly puzzled, by the strong emotions + which she had unconsciously called into being. “Oh dear me!” she said, + “why can’t you talk of something else? Why can’t we be friends? Excuse me + for mentioning it,” she went on, looking up at him with a saucy smile, + “you are old enough to be my father.” + </p> + <p> + Moody’s head sank on his breast. “I own it,” he answered humbly. “But + there is something to be said for me. Men as old as I am have made good + husbands before now. I would devote my whole life to make you happy. There + isn’t a wish you could form which I wouldn’t be proud to obey. You must + not reckon me by years. My youth has not been wasted in a profligate life; + I can be truer to you and fonder of you than many a younger man. Surely my + heart is not quite unworthy of you, when it is all yours. I have lived + such a lonely, miserable life—and you might so easily brighten it. + You are kind to everybody else, Isabel. Tell me, dear, why are you so hard + on <i>me?</i>” + </p> + <p> + His voice trembled as he appealed to her in those simple words. He had + taken the right way at last to produce an impression on her. She really + felt for him. All that was true and tender in her nature began to rise in + her and take his part. Unhappily, he felt too deeply and too strongly to + be patient, and give her time. He completely misinterpreted her silence—completely + mistook the motive that made her turn aside for a moment, to gather + composure enough to speak to him. “Ah!” he burst out bitterly, turning + away on his side, “you have no heart.” + </p> + <p> + She instantly resented those unjust words. At that moment they wounded her + to the quick. + </p> + <p> + “You know best,” she said. “I have no doubt you are right. Remember one + thing, however, that though I have no heart, I have never encouraged you, + Mr. Moody. I have declared over and over again that I could only be your + friend. Understand that for the future, if you please. There are plenty of + nice women who will be glad to marry you, I have no doubt. You will always + have my best wishes for your welfare. Good-morning. Her Ladyship will + wonder what has become of me. Be so kind as to let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + Tortured by the passion that consumed him, Moody obstinately kept his + place between Isabel and the door. The unworthy suspicion of her, which + had been in his mind all through the interview, now forced its way + outwards to expression at last. + </p> + <p> + “No woman ever used a man as you use me without some reason for it,” he + said. “You have kept your secret wonderfully well—but sooner or + later all secrets get found out. I know what is in your mind as well as + you know it yourself. You are in love with some other man.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel’s face flushed deeply; the defensive pride of her sex was up in + arms in an instant. She cast one disdainful look at Moody, without + troubling herself to express her contempt in words. “Stand out of my way, + sir!”—that was all she said to him. + </p> + <p> + “You are in love with some other man,” he reiterated passionately. “Deny + it if you can!” + </p> + <p> + “Deny it?” she repeated, with flashing eyes. “What right have you to ask + the question? Am I not free to do as I please?” + </p> + <p> + He stood looking at her, meditating his next words with a sudden and + sinister change to self-restraint. Suppressed rage was in his rigidly set + eyes, suppressed rage was in his trembling hand as he raised it + emphatically while he spoke his next words. + </p> + <p> + “I have one thing more to say,” he answered, “and then I have done. If I + am not your husband, no other man shall be. Look well to it, Isabel + Miller. If there <i>is</i> another man between us, I can tell him this—he + shall find it no easy matter to rob me of you!” + </p> + <p> + She started, and turned pale—but it was only for a moment. The high + spirit that was in her rose brightly in her eyes, and faced him without + shrinking. + </p> + <p> + “Threats?” she said, with quiet contempt. “When you make love, Mr. Moody, + you take strange ways of doing it. My conscience is easy. You may try to + frighten me, but you will not succeed. When you have recovered your temper + I will accept your excuses.” She paused, and pointed to the table. “There + is the letter that you told me to leave for you when I had sealed it,” she + went on. “I suppose you have her Ladyship’s orders. Isn’t it time you + began to think of obeying them?” + </p> + <p> + The contemptuous composure of her tone and manner seemed to act on Moody + with crushing effect. Without a word of answer, the unfortunate steward + took up the letter from the table. Without a word of answer, he walked + mechanically to the great door which opened on the staircase—turned + on the threshold to look at Isabel—waited a moment, pale and still—and + suddenly left the room. + </p> + <p> + That silent departure, that hopeless submission, impressed Isabel in spite + of herself. The sustaining sense of injury and insult sank, as it were, + from under her the moment she was alone. He had not been gone a minute + before she began to be sorry for him once more. The interview had taught + her nothing. She was neither old enough nor experienced enough to + understand the overwhelming revolution produced in a man’s character when + he feels the passion of love for the first time in the maturity of his + life. If Moody had stolen a kiss at the first opportunity, she would have + resented the liberty he had taken with her; but she would have thoroughly + understood him. His terrible earnestness, his overpowering agitation, his + abrupt violence—all these evidences of a passion that was a mystery + to himself—simply puzzled her. “I’m sure I didn’t wish to hurt his + feelings” (such was the form that her reflections took, in her present + penitent frame of mind); “but why did he provoke me? It is a shame to tell + me that I love some other man—when there is no other man. I declare + I begin to hate the men, if they are all like Mr. Moody. I wonder whether + he will forgive me when he sees me again? I’m sure I’m willing to forget + and forgive on my side—especially if he won’t insist on my being + fond of him because he is fond of me. Oh, dear! I wish he would come back + and shake hands. It’s enough to try the patience of a saint to be treated + in this way. I wish I was ugly! The ugly ones have a quiet time of it—the + men let them be. Mr. Moody! Mr. Moody!” She went out to the landing and + called to him softly. There was no answer. He was no longer in the house. + She stood still for a moment in silent vexation. “I’ll go to Tommie!” she + decided. “I’m sure he’s the more agreeable company of the two. And—oh, + good gracious! there’s Mr. Hardyman waiting to give me my instructions! + How do I look, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + She consulted the glass once more—gave one or two corrective touches + to her hair and her cap—and hastened into the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + FOR a quarter of an hour the drawing-room remained empty. At the end of + that time the council in the boudoir broke up. Lady Lydiard led the way + back into the drawing-room, followed by Hardyman, Isabel being left to + look after the dog. Before the door closed behind him, Hardyman turned + round to reiterate his last medical directions—or, in plainer words, + to take a last look at Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of water, Miss Isabel, for the dog to lap, and a little bread or + biscuit, if he wants something to eat. Nothing more, if you please, till I + see him to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir. I will take the greatest care—” + </p> + <p> + At that point Lady Lydiard cut short the interchange of instructions and + civilities. “Shut the door, if you please, Mr. Hardyman. I feel the + draught. Many thanks! I am really at a loss to tell you how gratefully I + feel your kindness. But for you my poor little dog might be dead by this + time.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman answered, in the quiet melancholy monotone which was habitual + with him, “Your Ladyship need feel no further anxiety about the dog. Only + be careful not to overfeed him. He will do very well under Miss Isabel’s + care. By the bye, her family name is Miller—is it not? Is she + related to the Warwickshire Millers of Duxborough House?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard looked at him with an expression of satirical surprise. “Mr. + Hardyman,” she said, “this makes the fourth time you have questioned me + about Isabel. You seem to take a great interest in my little companion. + Don’t make any apologies, pray! You pay Isabel a compliment, and, as I am + very fond of her, I am naturally gratified when I find her admired. At the + same time,” she added, with one of her abrupt transitions of language, “I + had my eye on you, and I had my eye on her, when you were talking in the + next room; and I don’t mean to let you make a fool of the girl. She is not + in your line of life, and the sooner you know it the better. You make me + laugh when you ask if she is related to gentlefolks. She is the orphan + daughter of a chemist in the country. Her relations haven’t a penny to + bless themselves with, except an old aunt, who lives in a village on two + or three hundred a year. I heard of the girl by accident. When she lost + her father and mother, her aunt offered to take her. Isabel said, ‘No, + thank you; I will not be a burden on a relation who has only enough for + herself. A girl can earn an honest living if she tries; and I mean to try’—that’s + what she said. I admired her independence,” her Ladyship proceeded, + ascending again to the higher regions of thought and expression. “My + niece’s marriage, just at that time, had left me alone in this great + house. I proposed to Isabel to come to me as companion and reader for a + few weeks, and to decide for herself whether she liked the life or not. We + have never been separated since that time. I could hardly be fonder of her + if she were my own daughter; and she returns my affection with all her + heart. She has excellent qualities—prudent, cheerful, + sweet-tempered; with good sense enough to understand what her place is in + the world, as distinguished from her place in my regard. I have taken + care, for her own sake, never to leave that part of the question in any + doubt. It would be cruel kindness to deceive her as to her future position + when she marries. I shall take good care that the man who pays his + addresses to her is a man in her rank of life. I know but too well, in the + case of one of my own relatives, what miseries unequal marriages bring + with them. Excuse me for troubling you at this length on domestic matters. + I am very fond of Isabel; and a girl’s head is so easily turned. Now you + know what her position really is, you will also know what limits there + must be to the expression of your interest in her. I am sure we understand + each other; and I say no more.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman listened to this long harangue with the immovable gravity which + was part of his character—except when Isabel had taken him by + surprise. When her Ladyship gave him the opportunity of speaking on his + side, he had very little to say, and that little did not suggest that he + had greatly profited by what he had heard. His mind had been full of + Isabel when Lady Lydiard began, and it remained just as full of her, in + just the same way, when Lady Lydiard had done. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he remarked quietly, “Miss Isabel is an uncommonly nice girl, as + you say. Very pretty, and such frank, unaffected manners. I don’t deny + that I feel an interest in her. The young ladies one meets in society are + not much to my taste. Miss Isabel is my taste.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard’s face assumed a look of blank dismay. “I am afraid I have + failed to convey my exact meaning to you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman gravely declared that he understood her perfectly. “Perfectly!” + he repeated, with his impenetrable obstinacy. “Your Ladyship exactly + expresses my opinion of Miss Isabel. Prudent, and cheerful, and + sweet-tempered, as you say—all the qualities in a woman that I + admire. With good looks, too—of course, with good looks. She will be + a perfect treasure (as you remarked just now) to the man who marries her. + I may claim to know something about it. I have twice narrowly escaped + being married myself; and, though I can’t exactly explain it, I’m all the + harder to please in consequence. Miss Isabel pleases me. I think I have + said that before? Pardon me for saying it again. I’ll call again to-morrow + morning and look at the dog as early as eleven o’clock, if you will allow + me. Later in the day I must be off to France to attend a sale of horses. + Glad to have been of any use to your Ladyship, I am sure. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard let him go, wisely resigning any further attempt to establish + an understanding between her visitor and herself. + </p> + <p> + “He is either a person of very limited intelligence when he is away from + his stables,” she thought, “or he deliberately declines to take a plain + hint when it is given to him. I can’t drop his acquaintance, on Tommie’s + account. The only other alternative is to keep Isabel out of his way. My + good little girl shall not drift into a false position while I am living + to look after her. When Mr. Hardyman calls to-morrow she shall be out on + an errand. When he calls the next time she shall be upstairs with a + headache. And if he tries it again she shall be away at my house in the + country. If he makes any remarks on her absence—well, he will find + that I can be just as dull of understanding as he is when the occasion + calls for it.” + </p> + <p> + Having arrived at this satisfactory solution of the difficulty, Lady + Lydiard became conscious of an irresistible impulse to summon Isabel to + her presence and caress her. In the nature of a warm-hearted woman, this + was only the inevitable reaction which followed the subsidence of anxiety + about the girl, after her own resolution had set that anxiety at rest. She + threw open the door and made one of her sudden appearances at the boudoir. + Even in the fervent outpouring of her affection, there was still the + inherent abruptness of manner which so strongly marked Lady Lydiard’s + character in all the relations of life. + </p> + <p> + “Did I give you a kiss, this morning?” she asked, when Isabel rose to + receive her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my Lady,” said the girl, with her charming smile. + </p> + <p> + “Come, then, and give me a kiss in return. Do you love me? Very well, + then, treat me like your mother. Never mind ‘my lady’ this time. Give me a + good hug!” + </p> + <p> + Something in those homely words, or something perhaps in the look that + accompanied them, touched sympathies in Isabel which seldom showed + themselves on the surface. Her smiling lips trembled, the bright tears + rose in her eyes. “You are too good to me,” she murmured, with her head on + Lady Lydiard’s bosom. “How can I ever love you enough in return?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard patted the pretty head that rested on her with such filial + tenderness. “There! there!” she said, “Go back and play with Tommie, my + dear. We may be as fond of each other as we like; but we mustn’t cry. God + bless you! Go away—go away!” + </p> + <p> + She turned aside quickly; her own eyes were moistening, and it was part of + her character to be reluctant to let Isabel see it. “Why have I made a + fool of myself?” she wondered, as she approached the drawing-room door. + “It doesn’t matter. I am all the better for it. Odd, that Mr. Hardyman + should have made me feel fonder of Isabel than ever!” + </p> + <p> + With those reflections she re-entered the drawing-room—and suddenly + checked herself with a start. “Good Heavens!” she exclaimed irritably, + “how you frightened me! Why was I not told you were here?” + </p> + <p> + Having left the drawing-room in a state of solitude, Lady Lydiard on her + return found herself suddenly confronted with a gentleman, mysteriously + planted on the hearth-rug in her absence. The new visitor may be rightly + described as a gray man. He had gray hair, eyebrows, and whiskers; he wore + a gray coat, waistcoat, and trousers, and gray gloves. For the rest, his + appearance was eminently suggestive of wealth and respectability and, in + this case, appearances were really to be trusted. The gray man was no + other than Lady Lydiard’s legal adviser, Mr. Troy. + </p> + <p> + “I regret, my Lady, that I should have been so unfortunate as to startle + you,” he said, with a certain underlying embarrassment in his manner. “I + had the honor of sending word by Mr. Moody that I would call at this hour, + on some matters of business connected with your Ladyship’s house property. + I presumed that you expected to find me here, waiting your pleasure—” + </p> + <p> + Thus far Lady Lydiard had listened to her legal adviser, fixing her eyes + on his face in her usually frank, straightforward way. She now stopped him + in the middle of a sentence, with a change of expression in her own face + which was undisguisedly a change to alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t apologize, Mr. Troy,” she said. “I am to blame for forgetting your + appointment and for not keeping my nerves under proper control.” She + paused for a moment and took a seat before she said her next words. “May I + ask,” she resumed, “if there is something unpleasant in the business that + brings you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever, my Lady; mere formalities, which can wait till + to-morrow or next day, if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard’s fingers drummed impatiently on the table. “You have known + me long enough, Mr. Troy, to know that I cannot endure suspense. You <i>have</i> + something unpleasant to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer respectfully remonstrated. “Really, Lady Lydiard!—” he + began. + </p> + <p> + “It won’t do, Mr. Troy! I know how you look at me on ordinary occasions, + and I see how you look at me now. You are a very clever lawyer; but, + happily for the interests that I commit to your charge, you are also a + thoroughly honest man. After twenty years’ experience of you, you can’t + deceive <i>me</i>. You bring me bad news. Speak at once, sir, and speak + plainly.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy yielded—inch by inch, as it were. “I bring news which, I + fear, may annoy your Ladyship.” He paused, and advanced another inch. “It + is news which I only became acquainted with myself on entering this + house.” + </p> + <p> + He waited again, and made another advance. “I happened to meet your + Ladyship’s steward, Mr. Moody, in the hall—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” Lady Lydiard interposed angrily. “I can make <i>him</i> + speak out, and I will. Send him here instantly.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer made a last effort to hold off the coming disclosure a little + longer. “Mr. Moody will be here directly,” he said. “Mr. Moody requested + me to prepare your Ladyship—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you ring the bell, Mr. Troy, or must I?” + </p> + <p> + Moody had evidently been waiting outside while the lawyer spoke for him. + He saved Mr. Troy the trouble of ringing the bell by presenting himself in + the drawing-room. Lady Lydiard’s eyes searched his face as he approached. + Her bright complexion faded suddenly. Not a word more passed her lips. She + looked, and waited. + </p> + <p> + In silence on his part, Moody laid an open sheet of paper on the table. + The paper quivered in his trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard recovered herself first. “Is that for me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my Lady.” + </p> + <p> + She took up the paper without an instant’s hesitation. Both the men + watched her anxiously as she read it. + </p> + <p> + The handwriting was strange to her. The words were these:— + </p> + <p> + “I hereby certify that the bearer of these lines, Robert Moody by name, + has presented to me the letter with which he was charged, addressed to + myself, with the seal intact. I regret to add that there is, to say the + least of it, some mistake. The inclosure referred to by the anonymous + writer of the letter, who signs ‘a friend in need,’ has not reached me. No + five-hundred pound bank-note was in the letter when I opened it. My wife + was present when I broke the seal, and can certify to this statement if + necessary. Not knowing who my charitable correspondent is (Mr. Moody being + forbidden to give me any information), I can only take this means of + stating the case exactly as it stands, and hold myself at the disposal of + the writer of the letter. My private address is at the head of the page.—Samuel + Bradstock, Rector, St. Anne’s, Deansbury, London.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard dropped the paper on the table. For the moment, plainly as + the Rector’s statement was expressed, she appeared to be incapable of + understanding it. “What, in God’s name, does this mean?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer and the steward looked at each other. Which of the two was + entitled to speak first? Lady Lydiard gave them no time to decide. + “Moody,” she said sternly, “you took charge of the letter—I look to + you for an explanation.” + </p> + <p> + Moody’s dark eyes flashed. He answered Lady Lydiard without caring to + conceal that he resented the tone in which she had spoken to him. + </p> + <p> + “I undertook to deliver the letter at its address,” he said. “I found it, + sealed, on the table. Your Ladyship has the clergyman’s written testimony + that I handed it to him with the seal unbroken. I have done my duty; and I + have no explanation to offer.” + </p> + <p> + Before Lady Lydiard could speak again, Mr. Troy discreetly interfered. He + saw plainly that his experience was required to lead the investigation in + the right direction. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, my Lady,” he said, with that happy mixture of the positive and + the polite in his manner, of which lawyers alone possess the secret. + “There is only one way of arriving at the truth in painful matters of this + sort. We must begin at the beginning. May I venture to ask your Ladyship a + question?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard felt the composing influence of Mr. Troy. “I am at your + disposal, sir,” she said, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Are you absolutely certain that you inclosed the bank-note in the + letter?” the lawyer asked. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly believe I inclosed it,” Lady Lydiard answered. “But I was so + alarmed at the time by the sudden illness of my dog, that I do not feel + justified in speaking positively.” + </p> + <p> + “Was anybody in the room with your Ladyship when you put the inclosure in + the letter—as you believe?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> was in the room,” said Moody. “I can swear that I saw her + Ladyship put the bank-note in the letter, and the letter in the envelope.” + </p> + <p> + “And seal the envelope?” asked Mr. Troy. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Her Ladyship was called away into the next room to the dog, + before she could seal the envelope.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy addressed himself once more to Lady Lydiard. “Did your Ladyship + take the letter into the next room with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I was too much alarmed to think of it, Mr. Troy. I left it here, on the + table.” + </p> + <p> + “With the envelope open?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How long were you absent in the other room?” + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour or more.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said Mr. Troy to himself. “This complicates it a little.” He + reflected for a while, and then turned again to Moody. “Did any of the + servants know of this bank-note being in her Ladyship’s possession?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one of them,” Moody answered. + </p> + <p> + “Do you suspect any of the servants?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any workmen employed in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know of any persons who had access to the room while Lady Lydiard + was absent from it?” + </p> + <p> + “Two visitors called, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Who were they?” + </p> + <p> + “Her Ladyship’s nephew, Mr. Felix Sweetsir, and the Honorable Alfred + Hardyman.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy shook his head irritably. “I am not speaking of gentlemen of high + position and repute,” he said. “It’s absurd even to mention Mr. Sweetsir + and Mr. Hardyman. My question related to strangers who might have obtained + access to the drawing-room—people calling, with her Ladyship’s + sanction, for subscriptions, for instance; or people calling with articles + of dress or ornament to be submitted to her Ladyship’s inspection.” + </p> + <p> + “No such persons came to the house with my knowledge,” Moody answered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy suspended the investigation, and took a turn thoughtfully in the + room. The theory on which his inquiries had proceeded thus far had failed + to produce any results. His experience warned him to waste no more time on + it, and to return to the starting-point of the investigation—in + other words, to the letter. Shifting his point of view, he turned again to + Lady Lydiard, and tried his questions in a new direction. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moody mentioned just now,” he said, “that your Ladyship was called + into the next room before you could seal your letter. On your return to + this room, did you seal the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “I was busy with the dog,” Lady Lydiard answered. “Isabel Miller was of no + use in the boudoir, and I told her to seal it for me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy started. The new direction in which he was pushing his inquiries + began to look like the right direction already. “Miss Isabel Miller,” he + proceeded, “has been a resident under your Ladyship’s roof for some little + time, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “For nearly two years, Mr. Troy.” + </p> + <p> + “As your Ladyship’s companion and reader?” + </p> + <p> + “As my adopted daughter,” her Ladyship answered, with marked emphasis. + </p> + <p> + Wise Mr. Troy rightly interpreted the emphasis as a warning to him to + suspend the examination of her Ladyship, and to address to Mr. Moody the + far more serious questions which were now to come. + </p> + <p> + “Did anyone give you the letter before you left the house with it?” he + said to the steward. “Or did you take it yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I took it myself, from the table here.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it sealed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Was anybody present when you took the letter from the table?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Isabel was present.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you find her alone in the room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard opened her lips to speak, and checked herself. Mr. Troy, + having cleared the ground before him, put the fatal question. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moody,” he said, “when Miss Isabel was instructed to seal the letter, + did she know that a bank-note was inclosed in it?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of replying, Robert drew back from the lawyer with a look of + horror. Lady Lydiard started to her feet—and checked herself again, + on the point of speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Answer him, Moody,” she said, putting a strong constraint on herself. + </p> + <p> + Robert answered very unwillingly. “I took the liberty of reminding her + ladyship that she had left her letter unsealed,” he said. “And I mentioned + as my excuse for speaking,”—he stopped, and corrected himself—“<i>I + believe</i> I mentioned that a valuable inclosure was in the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe?” Mr. Troy repeated. “Can’t you speak more positively than + that?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> can speak positively,” said Lady Lydiard, with her eyes on the + lawyer. “Moody did mention the inclosure in the letter—in Isabel + Miller’s hearing as well as in mine.” She paused, steadily controlling + herself. “And what of that, Mr. Troy?” she added, very quietly and firmly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy answered quietly and firmly, on his side. “I am surprised that + your Ladyship should ask the question,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I persist in repeating the question,” Lady Lydiard rejoined. “I say that + Isabel Miller knew of the inclosure in my letter—and I ask, What of + that?” + </p> + <p> + “And I answer,” retorted the impenetrable lawyer, “that the suspicion of + theft rests on your Ladyship’s adopted daughter, and on nobody else.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s false!” cried Robert, with a burst of honest indignation. “I wish to + God I had never said a word to you about the loss of the bank-note! Oh, my + Lady! my Lady! don’t let him distress you! What does <i>he</i> know about + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Lady Lydiard. “Control yourself, and hear what he has to + say.” She rested her hand on Moody’s shoulder, partly to encourage him, + partly to support herself; and, fixing her eyes again on Mr. Troy, + repeated his last words, “‘Suspicion rests on my adopted daughter, and on + nobody else.’ Why on nobody else?” + </p> + <p> + “Is your Ladyship prepared to suspect the Rector of St. Anne’s of + embezzlement, or your own relatives and equals of theft?” Mr. Troy asked. + “Does a shadow of doubt rest on the servants? Not if Mr. Moody’s evidence + is to be believed. Who, to our own certain knowledge, had access to the + letter while it was unsealed? Who was alone in the room with it? And who + knew of the inclosure in it? I leave the answer to your Ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + “Isabel Miller is as incapable of an act of theft as I am. There is my + answer, Mr. Troy.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer bowed resignedly, and advanced to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to take your Ladyship’s generous assertion as finally disposing of + the question of the lost bank-note?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard met the challenge without shrinking from it. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said. “The loss of the bank-note is known out of my house. Other + persons may suspect this innocent girl as you suspect her. It is due to + Isabel’s reputation—her unstained reputation, Mr. Troy!—that + she should know what has happened, and should have an opportunity of + defending herself. She is in the next room, Moody. Bring her here.” + </p> + <p> + Robert’s courage failed him: he trembled at the bare idea of exposing + Isabel to the terrible ordeal that awaited her. “Oh, my Lady!” he pleaded, + “think again before you tell the poor girl that she is suspected of theft. + Keep it a secret from her—the shame of it will break her heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Keep it a secret,” said Lady Lydiard, “when the Rector and the Rector’s + wife both know of it! Do you think they will let the matter rest where it + is, even if I could consent to hush it up? I must write to them; and I + can’t write anonymously after what has happened. Put yourself in Isabel’s + place, and tell me if you would thank the person who knew you to be + innocently exposed to a disgraceful suspicion, and who concealed it from + you? Go, Moody! The longer you delay, the harder it will be.” + </p> + <p> + With his head sunk on his breast, with anguish written in every line of + his face, Moody obeyed. Passing slowly down the short passage which + connected the two rooms, and still shrinking from the duty that had been + imposed on him, he paused, looking through the curtains which hung over + the entrance to the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <h3> + THE sight that met Moody’s view wrung him to the heart. + </h3> + <p> + Isabel and the dog were at play together. Among the varied accomplishments + possessed by Tommie, the capacity to take his part at a game of + hide-and-seek was one. His playfellow for the time being put a shawl or a + handkerchief over his head, so as to prevent him from seeing, and then hid + among the furniture a pocketbook, or a cigar-case, or a purse, or anything + else that happened to be at hand, leaving the dog to find it, with his + keen sense of smell to guide him. Doubly relieved by the fit and the + bleeding, Tommie’s spirits had revived; and he and Isabel had just begun + their game when Moody looked into the room, charged with his terrible + errand. “You’re burning, Tommie, you’re burning!” cried the girl, laughing + and clapping her hands. The next moment she happened to look round and saw + Moody through the parted curtains. His face warned her instantly that + something serious had happened. She advanced a few steps, her eyes resting + on him in silent alarm. He was himself too painfully agitated to speak. + Not a word was exchanged between Lady Lydiard and Mr. Troy in the next + room. In the complete stillness that prevailed, the dog was heard sniffing + and fidgeting about the furniture. Robert took Isabel by the hand and led + her into the drawing-room. “For God’s sake, spare her, my Lady!” he + whispered. The lawyer heard him. “No,” said Mr. Troy. “Be merciful, and + tell her the truth!” + </p> + <p> + He spoke to a woman who stood in no need of his advice. The inherent + nobility in Lady Lydiard’s nature was aroused: her great heart offered + itself patiently to any sorrow, to any sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + Putting her arm round Isabel—half caressing her, half supporting her—Lady + Lydiard accepted the whole responsibility and told the whole truth. + </p> + <p> + Reeling under the first shock, the poor girl recovered herself with + admirable courage. She raised her head, and eyed the lawyer without + uttering a word. In its artless consciousness of innocence the look was + nothing less than sublime. Addressing herself to Mr. Troy, Lady Lydiard + pointed to Isabel. “Do you see guilt there?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy made no answer. In the melancholy experience of humanity to which + his profession condemned him, he had seen conscious guilt assume the face + of innocence, and helpless innocence admit the disguise of guilt: the + keenest observation, in either case, failing completely to detect the + truth. Lady Lydiard misinterpreted his silence as expressing the sullen + self-assertion of a heartless man. She turned from him, in contempt, and + held out her hand to Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Troy is not satisfied yet,” she said bitterly. “My love, take my + hand, and look me in the face as your equal; I know no difference of rank + at such a time as this. Before God, who hears you, are you innocent of the + theft of the bank-note?” + </p> + <p> + “Before God, who hears me,” Isabel answered, “I am innocent.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard looked once more at the lawyer, and waited to hear if he + believed <i>that</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy took refuge in dumb diplomacy—he made a low bow. It might + have meant that he believed Isabel, or it might have meant that he + modestly withdrew his own opinion into the background. Lady Lydiard did + not condescend to inquire what it meant. + </p> + <p> + “The sooner we bring this painful scene to an end the better,” she said. + “I shall be glad to avail myself of your professional assistance, Mr. + Troy, within certain limits. Outside of my house, I beg that you will + spare no trouble in tracing the lost money to the person who has really + stolen it. Inside of my house, I must positively request that the + disappearance of the note may never be alluded to, in any way whatever, + until your inquiries have been successful in discovering the thief. In the + meanwhile, Mrs. Tollmidge and her family must not be sufferers by my loss: + I shall pay the money again.” She paused, and pressed Isabel’s hand with + affectionate fervor. “My child,” she said, “one last word to you, and I + have done. You remain here, with my trust in you, and my love for you, + absolutely unshaken. When you think of what has been said here to-day, + never forget that.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel bent her head, and kissed the kind hand that still held hers. The + high spirit that was in her, inspired by Lady Lydiard’s example, rose + equal to the dreadful situation in which she was placed. + </p> + <p> + “No, my Lady,” she said calmly and sadly; “it cannot be. What this + gentleman has said of me is not to be denied—the appearances are + against me. The letter was open, and I was alone in the room with it, and + Mr. Moody told me that a valuable inclosure was inside it. Dear and kind + mistress! I am not fit to be a member of your household, I am not worthy + to live with the honest people who serve you, while my innocence is in + doubt. It is enough for me now that <i>you</i> don’t doubt it. I can wait + patiently, after that, for the day that gives me back my good name. Oh, my + Lady, don’t cry about it! Pray, pray don’t cry!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard’s self-control failed her for the first time. Isabel’s + courage had made Isabel dearer to her than ever. She sank into a chair, + and covered her face with her handkerchief. Mr. Troy turned aside + abruptly, and examined a Japanese vase, without any idea in his mind of + what he was looking at. Lady Lydiard had gravely misjudged him in + believing him to be a heartless man. + </p> + <p> + Isabel followed the lawyer, and touched him gently on the arm to rouse his + attention. + </p> + <p> + “I have one relation living, sir—an aunt—who will receive me + if I go to her,” she said simply. “Is there any harm in my going? Lady + Lydiard will give you the address when you want me. Spare her Ladyship, + sir, all the pain and trouble that you can.” + </p> + <p> + At last the heart that was in Mr. Troy asserted itself. “You are a fine + creature!” he said, with a burst of enthusiasm. “I agree with Lady Lydiard—I + believe you are innocent, too; and I will leave no effort untried to find + the proof of it.” He turned aside again, and had another look at the + Japanese vase. + </p> + <p> + As the lawyer withdrew himself from observation, Moody approached Isabel. + </p> + <p> + Thus far he had stood apart, watching her and listening to her in silence. + Not a look that had crossed her face, not a word that had fallen from her, + had escaped him. Unconsciously on her side, unconsciously on his side, she + now wrought on his nature with a purifying and ennobling influence which + animated it with a new life. All that had been selfish and violent in his + passion for her left him to return no more. The immeasurable devotion + which he laid at her feet, in the days that were yet to come—the + unyielding courage which cheerfully accepted the sacrifice of himself when + events demanded it at a later period of his life—struck root in him + now. Without attempting to conceal the tears that were falling fast over + his cheeks—striving vainly to express those new thoughts in him that + were beyond the reach of words—he stood before her the truest friend + and servant that ever woman had. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear! my heart is heavy for you. Take me to serve you and help + you. Her Ladyship’s kindness will permit it, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + He could say no more. In those simple words the cry of his heart reached + her. “Forgive me, Robert,” she answered, gratefully, “if I said anything + to pain you when we spoke together a little while since. I didn’t mean + it.” She gave him her hand, and looked timidly over her shoulder at Lady + Lydiard. “Let me go!” she said, in low, broken tones, “Let me go!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy heard her, and stepped forward to interfere before Lady Lydiard + could speak. The man had recovered his self-control; the lawyer took his + place again on the scene. + </p> + <p> + “You must not leave us, my dear,” he said to Isabel, “until I have put a + question to Mr. Moody in which you are interested. Do you happen to have + the number of the lost bank-note?” he asked, turning to the steward. + </p> + <p> + Moody produced his slip of paper with the number on it. Mr. Troy made two + copies of it before he returned the paper. One copy he put in his pocket, + the other he handed to Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “Keep it carefully,” he said. “Neither you nor I know how soon it may be + of use to you.” + </p> + <p> + Receiving the copy from him, she felt mechanically in her apron for her + pocketbook. She had used it, in playing with the dog, as an object to hide + from him; but she had suffered, and was still suffering, too keenly to be + capable of the effort of remembrance. Moody, eager to help her even in the + most trifling thing, guessed what had happened. “You were playing with + Tommie,” he said; “is it in the next room?” + </p> + <p> + The dog heard his name pronounced through the open door. The next moment + he trotted into the drawing-room with Isabel’s pocketbook in his mouth. He + was a strong, well-grown Scotch terrier of the largest size, with bright, + intelligent eyes, and a coat of thick curling white hair, diversified by + two light brown patches on his back. As he reached the middle of the room, + and looked from one to another of the persons present, the fine sympathy + of his race told him that there was trouble among his human friends. His + tail dropped; he whined softly as he approached Isabel, and laid her + pocketbook at her feet. + </p> + <p> + She knelt as she picked up the pocketbook, and raised her playfellow of + happier days to take her leave of him. As the dog put his paws on her + shoulders, returning her caress, her first tears fell. “Foolish of me,” + she said, faintly, “to cry over a dog. I can’t help it. Good-by, Tommie!” + </p> + <p> + Putting him away from her gently, she walked towards the door. The dog + instantly followed. She put him away from her, for the second time, and + left him. He was not to be denied; he followed her again, and took the + skirt of her dress in his teeth, as if to hold her back. Robert forced the + dog, growling and resisting with all his might, to let go of the dress. + “Don’t be rough with him,” said Isabel. “Put him on her ladyship’s lap; he + will be quieter there.” Robert obeyed. He whispered to Lady Lydiard as she + received the dog; she seemed to be still incapable of speaking—she + bowed her head in silent assent. Robert hurried back to Isabel before she + had passed the door. “Not alone!” he said entreatingly. “Her Ladyship + permits it, Isabel. Let me see you safe to your aunt’s house.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel looked at him, felt for him, and yielded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered softly; “to make amends for what I said to you when I + was thoughtless and happy!” She waited a little to compose herself before + she spoke her farewell words to Lady Lydiard. “Good-by, my Lady. Your + kindness has not been thrown away on an ungrateful girl. I love you, and + thank you, with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard rose, placing the dog on the chair as she left it. She seemed + to have grown older by years, instead of by minutes, in the short interval + that had passed since she had hidden her face from view. “I can’t bear + it!” she cried, in husky, broken tones. “Isabel! Isabel! I forbid you to + leave me!” + </p> + <p> + But one person could venture to resist her. That person was Mr. Troy—and + Mr. Troy knew it. + </p> + <p> + “Control yourself,” he said to her in a whisper. “The girl is doing what + is best and most becoming in her position—and is doing it with a + patience and courage wonderful to see. She places herself under the + protection of her nearest relative, until her character is vindicated and + her position in your house is once more beyond a doubt. Is this a time to + throw obstacles in her way? Be worthy of yourself, Lady Lydiard and think + of the day when she will return to you without the breath of a suspicion + to rest on her!” + </p> + <p> + There was no disputing with him—he was too plainly in the right. + Lady Lydiard submitted; she concealed the torture that her own resolution + inflicted on her with an endurance which was, indeed, worthy of herself. + Taking Isabel in her arms she kissed her in a passion of sorrow and love. + “My poor dear! My own sweet girl! don’t suppose that this is a parting + kiss! I shall see you again—often and often I shall see you again at + your aunt’s!” At a sign from Mr. Troy, Robert took Isabel’s arm in his and + led her away. Tommie, watching her from his chair, lifted his little white + muzzle as his playfellow looked back on passing the doorway. The long, + melancholy, farewell howl of the dog was the last sound Isabel Miller + heard as she left the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART THE SECOND. + </h2> + <h3> + THE DISCOVERY. + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + ON the day after Isabel’s departure, diligent Mr. Troy set forth for the + Head Office in Whitehall to consult the police on the question of the + missing money. He had previously sent information of the robbery to the + Bank of England, and had also advertised the loss in the daily newspapers. + </p> + <p> + The air was so pleasant, and the sun was so bright, that he determined on + proceeding to his destination on foot. He was hardly out of sight of his + own offices when he was overtaken by a friend, who was also walking in the + direction of Whitehall. This gentleman was a person of considerable + worldly wisdom and experience; he had been officially associated with + cases of striking and notorious crime, in which Government had lent its + assistance to discover and punish the criminals. The opinion of a person + in this position might be of the greatest value to Mr. Troy, whose + practice as a solicitor had thus far never brought him into collision with + thieves and mysteries. He accordingly decided, in Isabel’s interests, on + confiding to his friend the nature of his errand to the police. Concealing + the name, but concealing nothing else, he described what had happened on + the previous day at Lady Lydiard’s house, and then put the question + plainly to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do in my place?” + </p> + <p> + “In your place,” his friend answered quietly, “I should not waste time and + money in consulting the police.” + </p> + <p> + “Not consult the police!” exclaimed Mr. Troy in amazement. “Surely, I have + not made myself understood? I am going to the Head Office; and I have got + a letter of introduction to the chief inspector in the detective + department. I am afraid I omitted to mention that?” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t make any difference,” proceeded the other, as coolly as ever. + “You have asked for my advice, and I give you my advice. Tear up your + letter of introduction, and don’t stir a step further in the direction of + Whitehall.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy began to understand. “You don’t believe in the detective police?” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “Who <i>can</i> believe in them, who reads his newspaper and remembers + what he reads?” his friend rejoined. “Fortunately for the detective + department, the public in general forgets what it reads. Go to your club, + and look at the criminal history of our own time, recorded in the + newspapers. Every crime is more or less a mystery. You will see that the + mysteries which the police discover are, almost without exception, + mysteries made penetrable by the commonest capacity, through the + extraordinary stupidity exhibited in the means taken to hide the crime. On + the other hand, let the guilty man or woman be a resolute and intelligent + person, capable of setting his (or her) wits fairly against the wits of + the police—in other words, let the mystery really <i>be</i> a + mystery—and cite me a case if you can (a really difficult and + perplexing case) in which the criminal has not escaped. Mind! I don’t + charge the police with neglecting their work. No doubt they do their best, + and take the greatest pains in following the routine to which they have + been trained. It is their misfortune, not their fault, that there is no + man of superior intelligence among them—I mean no man who is + capable, in great emergencies, of placing himself above conventional + methods, and following a new way of his own. There have been such men in + the police—men naturally endowed with that faculty of mental + analysis which can decompose a mystery, resolve it into its component + parts, and find the clue at the bottom, no matter how remote from ordinary + observation it may be. But those men have died, or have retired. One of + them would have been invaluable to you in the case you have just mentioned + to me. As things are, unless you are wrong in believing in the young + lady’s innocence, the person who has stolen that bank-note will be no easy + person to find. In my opinion, there is only one man now in London who is + likely to be of the slightest assistance to you—and he is not in the + police.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” asked Mr. Troy. + </p> + <p> + “An old rogue, who was once in your branch of the legal profession,” the + friend answered. “You may, perhaps, remember the name: they call him ‘Old + Sharon.’” + </p> + <p> + “What! The scoundrel who was struck off the Roll of Attorneys, years + since? Is he still alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Alive and prospering. He lives in a court or lane running out of Long + Acre, and he offers advice to persons interested in recovering missing + objects of any sort. Whether you have lost your wife, or lost your + cigar-case, Old Sharon is equally useful to you. He has an inbred capacity + for reading the riddle the right way in cases of mystery, great or small. + In short, he possesses exactly that analytical faculty to which I alluded + just now. I have his address at my office, if you think it worth while to + try him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who can trust such a man?” Mr. Troy objected. “He would be sure to + deceive me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are entirely mistaken. Since he was struck off the Rolls Old Sharon + has discovered that the straight way is, on the whole, the best way, even + in a man’s own interests. His consultation fee is a guinea; and he gives a + signed estimate beforehand for any supplementary expenses that may follow. + I can tell you (this is, of course, strictly between ourselves) that the + authorities at my office took his advice in a Government case that puzzled + the police. We approached him, of course, through persons who were to be + trusted to represent us, without betraying the source from which their + instructions were derived; and we found the old rascal’s advice well worth + paying for. It is quite likely that he may not succeed so well in your + case. Try the police, by all means; and, if they fail, why, there is + Sharon as a last resort.” + </p> + <p> + This arrangement commended itself to Mr. Troy’s professional caution. He + went on to Whitehall, and he tried the detective police. + </p> + <p> + They at once adopted the obvious conclusion to persons of ordinary + capacity—the conclusion that Isabel was the thief. + </p> + <p> + Acting on this conviction, the authorities sent an experienced woman from + the office to Lady Lydiard’s house, to examine the poor girl’s clothes and + ornaments before they were packed up and sent after her to her aunt’s. The + search led to nothing. The only objects of any value that were discovered + had been presents from Lady Lydiard. No jewelers’ or milliners’ bills were + among the papers found in her desk. Not a sign of secret extravagance in + dress was to be seen anywhere. Defeated so far, the police proposed next + to have Isabel privately watched. There might be a prodigal lover + somewhere in the background, with ruin staring him in the face unless he + could raise five hundred pounds. Lady Lydiard (who had only consented to + the search under stress of persuasive argument from Mr. Troy) resented + this ingenious idea as an insult. She declared that if Isabel was watched + the girl should know of it instantly from her own lips. The police + listened with perfect resignation and decorum, and politely shifted their + ground. A certain suspicion (they remarked) always rested in cases of this + sort on the servants. Would her Ladyship object to private inquiries into + the characters and proceedings of the servants? Her Ladyship instantly + objected, in the most positive terms. Thereupon the “Inspector” asked for + a minute’s private conversation with Mr. Troy. “The thief is certainly a + member of Lady Lydiard’s household,” this functionary remarked, in his + politely-positive way. “If her Ladyship persists in refusing to let us + make the necessary inquiries, our hands are tied, and the case comes to an + end through no fault of ours. If her Ladyship changes her mind, perhaps + you will drop me a line, sir, to that effect. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + So the experiment of consulting the police came to an untimely end. The + one result obtained was the expression of purblind opinion by the + authorities of the detective department which pointed to Isabel, or to one + of the servants, as the undiscovered thief. Thinking the matter over in + the retirement of his own office—and not forgetting his promise to + Isabel to leave no means untried of establishing her innocence—Mr. + Troy could see but one alternative left to him. He took up his pen, and + wrote to his friend at the Government office. There was nothing for it now + but to run the risk, and try Old Sharon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + THE next day, Mr. Troy (taking Robert Moody with him as a valuable + witness) rang the bell at the mean and dirty lodging-house in which Old + Sharon received the clients who stood in need of his advice. + </p> + <p> + They were led up stairs to a back room on the second floor of the house. + Entering the room, they discovered through a thick cloud of tobacco smoke, + a small, fat, bald-headed, dirty, old man, in an arm-chair, robed in a + tattered flannel dressing-gown, with a short pipe in his mouth, a pug-dog + on his lap, and a French novel in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Is it business?” asked Old Sharon, speaking in a hoarse, asthmatical + voice, and fixing a pair of bright, shameless, black eyes attentively on + the two visitors. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> business,” Mr. Troy answered, looking at the old rogue who + had disgraced an honorable profession, as he might have looked at a + reptile which had just risen rampant at his feet. “What is your fee for a + consultation?” + </p> + <p> + “You give me a guinea, and I’ll give you half an hour.” With this reply + Old Sharon held out his unwashed hand across the rickety ink-splashed + table at which he was sitting. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy would not have touched him with the tips of his own fingers for a + thousand pounds. He laid the guinea on the table. + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon burst into a fierce laugh—a laugh strangely accompanied + by a frowning contraction of his eyebrows, and a frightful exhibition of + the whole inside of his mouth. “I’m not clean enough for you—eh?” he + said, with an appearance of being very much amused. “There’s a dirty old + man described in this book that is a little like me.” He held up his + French novel. “Have you read it? A capital story—well put together. + Ah, you haven’t read it? You have got a pleasure to come. I say, do you + mind tobacco-smoke? I think faster while I smoke—that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy’s respectable hand waved a silent permission to smoke, given + under dignified protest. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Old Sharon. “Now, get on.” + </p> + <p> + He laid himself back in his chair, and puffed out his smoke, with eyes + lazily half closed, like the eyes of the pug-dog on his lap. At that + moment, indeed there was a curious resemblance between the two. They both + seemed to be preparing themselves, in the same idle way, for the same + comfortable nap. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy stated the circumstances under which the five hundred pound note + had disappeared, in clear and consecutive narrative. When he had done, Old + Sharon suddenly opened his eyes. The pug-dog suddenly opened his eyes. Old + Sharon looked hard at Mr. Troy. The pug looked hard at Mr. Troy. Old + Sharon spoke. The pug growled. + </p> + <p> + “I know who you are—you’re a lawyer. Don’t be alarmed! I never saw + you before; and I don’t know your name. What I do know is a lawyer’s + statement of facts when I hear it. Who’s this?” Old Sharon looked + inquisitively at Moody as he put the question. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy introduced Moody as a competent witness, thoroughly acquainted + with the circumstances, and ready and willing to answer any questions + relating to them. Old Sharon waited a little, smoking hard and thinking + hard. “Now, then!” he burst out in his fiercely sudden way. “I’m going to + get to the root of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, and began his examination + of Moody. Heartily as Mr. Troy despised and disliked the old rogue, he + listened with astonishment and admiration—literally extorted from + him by the marvelous ability with which the questions were adapted to the + end in view. In a quarter of an hour Old Sharon had extracted from the + witness everything, literally everything down to the smallest detail, that + Moody could tell him. Having now, in his own phrase, “got to the root of + the matter,” he relighted his pipe with a grunt of satisfaction, and laid + himself back in his old armchair. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Mr. Troy. “Have you formed your opinion?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I’ve formed my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of replying, Old Sharon winked confidentially at Mr. Troy, and put + a question on his side. + </p> + <p> + “I say! is a ten-pound note much of an object to you?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends on what the money is wanted for,” answered Mr. Troy. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Old Sharon; “I give you an opinion for your guinea; but, + mind this, it’s an opinion founded on hearsay—and you know as a + lawyer what that is worth. Venture your ten pounds—in plain English, + pay me for my time and trouble in a baffling and difficult case—and + I’ll give you an opinion founded on my own experience.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself a little more clearly,” said Mr. Troy. “What do you + guarantee to tell us if we venture the ten pounds?” + </p> + <p> + “I guarantee to name the person, or the persons, on whom the suspicion + really rests. And if you employ me after that, I guarantee (before you pay + me a halfpenny more) to prove that I am right by laying my hand on the + thief.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us have the guinea opinion first,” said Mr. Troy. + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon made another frightful exhibition of the whole inside of his + mouth; his laugh was louder and fiercer than ever. “I like you!” he said + to Mr. Troy, “you are so devilish fond of your money. Lord! how rich you + must be! Now listen. Here’s the guinea opinion: Suspect, in this case, the + very last person on whom suspicion could possibly fall.” + </p> + <p> + Moody, listening attentively, started, and changed color at those last + words. Mr. Troy looked thoroughly disappointed and made no attempt to + conceal it. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “All?” retorted the cynical vagabond. “You’re a pretty lawyer! What more + can I say, when I don’t know for certain whether the witness who has given + me my information has misled me or not? Have I spoken to the girl and + formed my own opinion? No! Have I been introduced among the servants (as + errand-boy, or to clean the boots and shoes, or what not), and have I + formed my own judgement of <i>them?</i> No! I take your opinions for + granted, and I tell you how I should set to work myself if they were <i>my</i> + opinions too—and that’s a guinea’s-worth, a devilish good + guinea’s-worth to a rich man like you!” + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon’s logic produced a certain effect on Mr. Troy, in spite of + himself. It was smartly put from his point of view—there was no + denying that. + </p> + <p> + “Even if I consented to your proposal,” he said, “I should object to your + annoying the young lady with impertinent questions, or to your being + introduced as a spy into a respectable house.” + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon doubled his dirty fists and drummed with them on the rickety + table in a comical frenzy of impatience while Mr. Troy was speaking. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you know about my way of doing my business?” he burst + out when the lawyer had done. “One of us two is talking like a born idiot—and + (mind this) it isn’t me. Look here! Your young lady goes out for a walk, + and she meets with a dirty, shabby old beggar—I look like a shabby + old beggar already, don’t I? Very good. This dirty old wretch whines and + whimpers and tells a long story, and gets sixpence out of the girl—and + knows her by that time, inside and out, as well as if he had made her—and, + mark! hasn’t asked her a single question, and, instead of annoying her, + has made her happy in the performance of a charitable action. Stop a bit! + I haven’t done with you yet. Who blacks your boots and shoes? Look here!” + He pushed his pug-dog off his lap, dived under the table, appeared again + with an old boot and a bottle of blackening, and set to work with tigerish + activity. “I’m going out for a walk, you know, and I may as well make + myself smart.” With that announcement, he began to sing over his work—a + song of sentiment, popular in England in the early part of the present + century—“She’s all my fancy painted her; she’s lovely, she’s divine; + but her heart it is another’s; and it never can be mine! + Too-ral-loo-ral-loo’. I like a love-song. Brush away! brush away! till I + see my own pretty face in the blacking. Hey! Here’s a nice, harmless, + jolly old man! sings and jokes over his work, and makes the kitchen quite + cheerful. What’s that you say? He’s a stranger, and don’t talk to him too + freely. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to speak in that way of a poor + old fellow with one foot in the grave. Mrs. Cook will give him a nice bit + of dinner in the scullery; and John Footman will look out an old coat for + him. And when he’s heard everything he wants to hear, and doesn’t come + back again the next day to his work—what do they think of it in the + servants’ hall? Do they say, ‘We’ve had a spy among us!’ Yah! you know + better than that, by this time. The cheerful old man has been run over in + the street, or is down with the fever, or has turned up his toes in the + parish dead-house—that’s what they say in the servants’ hall. Try me + in your own kitchen, and see if your servants take me for a spy. Come, + come, Mr. Lawyer! out with your ten pounds, and don’t waste any more + precious time about it!” + </p> + <p> + “I will consider and let you know,” said Mr. Troy. + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon laughed more ferociously than ever, and hobbled round the table + in a great hurry to the place at which Moody was sitting. He laid one hand + on the steward’s shoulder, and pointed derisively with the other to Mr. + Troy. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Mr. Silent-man! Bet you five pounds I never hear of that lawyer + again!” + </p> + <p> + Silently attentive all through the interview (except when he was answering + questions), Moody only replied in the fewest words. “I don’t bet,” was all + he said. He showed no resentment at Sharon’s familiarity, and he appeared + to find no amusement in Sharon’s extraordinary talk. The old vagabond + seemed actually to produce a serious impression on him! When Mr. Troy set + the example of rising to go, he still kept his seat, and looked at the + lawyer as if he regretted leaving the atmosphere of tobacco smoke reeking + in the dirty room. + </p> + <p> + “Have you anything to say before we go?” Mr. Troy asked. + </p> + <p> + Moody rose slowly and looked at Old Sharon. “Not just now, sir,” he + replied, looking away again, after a moment’s reflection. + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon interpreted Moody’s look and Moody’s reply from his own + peculiar point of view. He suddenly drew the steward away into a corner of + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I say!” he began, in a whisper. “Upon your solemn word of honor, you know—are + you as rich as the lawyer there?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here! It’s half price to a poor man. If you feel like coming back, + on your own account—five pounds will do from <i>you</i>. There! + there! Think of it!—think of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, then!” said Mr. Troy, waiting for his companion, with the door open + in his hand. He looked back at Sharon when Moody joined him. The old + vagabond was settled again in his armchair, with his dog in his lap, his + pipe in his mouth, and his French novel in his hand; exhibiting exactly + the picture of frowzy comfort which he had presented when his visitors + first entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day,” said Mr. Troy, with haughty condescension. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t interrupt me!” rejoined Old Sharon, absorbed in his novel. “You’ve + had your guinea’s worth. Lord! what a lovely book this is! Don’t interrupt + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Impudent scoundrel!” said Mr. Troy, when he and Moody were in the street + again. “What could my friend mean by recommending him? Fancy his expecting + me to trust him with ten pounds! I consider even the guinea completely + thrown away.” + </p> + <p> + “Begging your pardon, sir,” said Moody, “I don’t quite agree with you + there.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you don’t mean to tell me you understand that oracular sentence of + his—‘Suspect the very last person on whom suspicion could possibly + fall.’ Rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say I understand it, sir. I only say it has set me thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking of what? Do your suspicions point to the thief?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will please to excuse me, Mr. Troy, I should like to wait a while + before I answer that.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy suddenly stood still, and eyed his companion a little + distrustfully. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to turn detective-policeman on your own account?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing I won’t turn to, and try, to help Miss Isabel in this + matter,” Moody answered, firmly. “I have saved a few hundred pounds in + Lady Lydiard’s service, and I am ready to spend every farthing of it, if I + can only discover the thief.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy walked on again. “Miss Isabel seems to have a good friend in + you,” he said. He was (perhaps unconsciously) a little offended by the + independent tone in which the steward spoke, after he had himself engaged + to take the vindication of the girl’s innocence into his own hands. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Isabel has a devoted servant and slave in me!” Moody answered, with + passionate enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Very creditable; I haven’t a word to say against it,” Mr. Troy rejoined. + “But don’t forget that the young lady has other devoted friends besides + you. I am her devoted friend, for instance—I have promised to serve + her, and I mean to keep my word. You will excuse me for adding that my + experience and discretion are quite as likely to be useful to her as your + enthusiasm. I know the world well enough to be careful in trusting + strangers. It will do you no harm, Mr. Moody, to follow my example.” + </p> + <p> + Moody accepted his reproof with becoming patience and resignation. “If you + have anything to propose, sir, that will be of service to Miss Isabel,” he + said, “I shall be happy if I can assist you in the humblest capacity.” + </p> + <p> + “And if not?” Mr. Troy inquired, conscious of having nothing to propose as + he asked the question. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, sir, I must take my own course, and blame nobody but myself + if it leads me astray.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy said no more: he parted from Moody at the next turning. + </p> + <p> + Pursuing the subject privately in his own mind, he decided on taking the + earliest opportunity of visiting Isabel at her aunt’s house, and on + warning her, in her future intercourse with Moody, not to trust too much + to the steward’s discretion. “I haven’t a doubt,” thought the lawyer, “of + what he means to do next. The infatuated fool is going back to Old + Sharon!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + RETURNING to his office, Mr. Troy discovered, among the correspondence + that was waiting for him, a letter from the very person whose welfare was + still the uppermost subject in his mind. Isabel Miller wrote in these + terms: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir—My aunt, Miss Pink, is very desirous of consulting you + professionally at the earliest opportunity. Although South Morden is + within little more than half an hour’s railway ride from London, Miss Pink + does not presume to ask you to visit her, being well aware of the value of + your time. Will you, therefore, be so kind as to let me know when it will + be convenient to you to receive my aunt at your office in London? Believe + me, dear sir, respectfully yours, ISABEL MILLER. P.S.—I am further + instructed to say that the regrettable event at Lady Lydiard’s house is + the proposed subject of the consultation. The Lawn, South Morden. + Thursday.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy smiled as he read the letter. “Too formal for a young girl!” he + said to himself. “Every word of it has been dictated by Miss Pink.” He was + not long in deciding what course he should take. There was a pressing + necessity for cautioning Isabel, and here was his opportunity. He sent for + his head clerk, and looked at his list of engagements for the day. There + was nothing set down in the book which the clerk was not quite as well + able to do as the master. Mr. Troy consulted his railway-guide, ordered + his cab, and caught the next train to South Morden. + </p> + <p> + South Morden was then (and remains to this day) one of those primitive + agricultural villages, passed over by the march of modern progress, which + are still to be found in the near neighborhood of London. Only the slow + trains stopped at the station and there was so little to do that the + station-master and his porter grew flowers on the embankment, and trained + creepers over the waiting-room window. Turning your back on the railway, + and walking along the one street of South Morden, you found yourself in + the old England of two centuries since. Gabled cottages, with fast-closed + windows; pigs and poultry in quiet possession of the road; the venerable + church surrounded by its shady burial-ground; the grocer’s shop which sold + everything, and the butcher’s shop which sold nothing; the scarce + inhabitants who liked a good look at a stranger, and the unwashed children + who were pictures of dirty health; the clash of the iron-chained bucket in + the public well, and the thump of the falling nine-pins in the + skittle-ground behind the public-house; the horse-pond on the one bit of + open ground, and the old elm-tree with the wooden seat round it on the + other—these were some of the objects that you saw, and some of the + noises that you heard in South Morden, as you passed from one end of the + village to the other. + </p> + <p> + About half a mile beyond the last of the old cottages, modern England met + you again under the form of a row of little villas, set up by an + adventurous London builder who had bought the land a bargain. Each villa + stood in its own little garden, and looked across a stony road at the + meadow lands and softly-rising wooded hills beyond. Each villa faced you + in the sunshine with the horrid glare of new red brick, and forced its + nonsensical name on your attention, traced in bright paint on the posts of + its entrance gate. Consulting the posts as he advanced, Mr. Troy arrived + in due course of time at the villa called The Lawn, which derived its name + apparently from a circular patch of grass in front of the house. The gate + resisting his efforts to open it, he rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + Admitted by a trim, clean, shy little maid-servant, Mr. Troy looked about + him in amazement. Turn which way he might, he found himself silently + confronted by posted and painted instructions to visitors, which forbade + him to do this, and commanded him to do that, at every step of his + progress from the gate to the house. On the side of the lawn a label + informed him that he was not to walk on the grass. On the other side a + painted hand pointed along a boundary-wall to an inscription which warned + him to go that way if he had business in the kitchen. On the gravel walk + at the foot of the housesteps words, neatly traced in little white shells, + reminded him not to “forget the scraper”. On the doorstep he was informed, + in letters of lead, that he was “Welcome!” On the mat in the passage + bristly black words burst on his attention, commanding him to “wipe his + shoes.” Even the hat-stand in the hall was not allowed to speak for + itself; it had “Hats and Cloaks” inscribed on it, and it issued its + directions imperatively in the matter of your wet umbrella—“Put it + here!” + </p> + <p> + Giving the trim little servant his card, Mr. Troy was introduced to a + reception-room on the lower floor. Before he had time to look round him + the door was opened again from without, and Isabel stole into the room on + tiptoe. She looked worn and anxious. When she shook hands with the old + lawyer the charming smile that he remembered so well was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say you have seen me,” she whispered. “I am not to come into the + room till my aunt sends for me. Tell me two things before I run away + again. How is Lady Lydiard? And have you discovered the thief?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Lydiard was well when I last saw her; and we have not yet succeeded + in discovering the thief.” Having answered the questions in those terms, + Mr. Troy decided on cautioning Isabel on the subject of the steward while + he had the chance. “One question on my side,” he said, holding her back + from the door by the arm. “Do you expect Moody to visit you here?” + </p> + <p> + “I am <i>sure</i> he will visit me,” Isabel answered warmly. “He has + promised to come here at my request. I never knew what a kind heart Robert + Moody had till this misfortune fell on me. My aunt, who is not easily + taken with strangers, respects and admires him. I can’t tell you how good + he was to me on the journey here—and how kindly, how nobly, he spoke + to me when we parted.” She paused, and turned her head away. The tears + were rising in her eyes. “In my situation,” she said faintly, “kindness is + very keenly felt. Don’t notice me, Mr. Troy.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer waited a moment to let her recover herself. + </p> + <p> + “I agree entirely, my dear, in your opinion of Moody,” he said. “At the + same time, I think it right to warn you that his zeal in your service may + possibly outrun his discretion. He may feel too confidently about + penetrating the mystery of the missing money; and, unless you are on your + guard, he may raise false hopes in you when you next see him. Listen to + any advice that he may give you, by all means. But, before you decide on + being guided by his opinion, consult my older experience, and hear what I + have to say on the subject. Don’t suppose that I am attempting to make you + distrust this good friend,” he added, noticing the look of uneasy surprise + which Isabel fixed on him. “No such idea is in my mind. I only warn you + that Moody’s eagerness to be of service to you may mislead him. You + understand me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied Isabel coldly; “I understand you. Please let me go + now. My aunt will be down directly; and she must not find me here.” She + curtseyed with distant respect, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + “So much for trying to put two ideas together into a girl’s mind!” thought + Mr. Troy, when he was alone again. “The little fool evidently thinks I am + jealous of Moody’s place in her estimation. Well! I have done my duty—and + I can do no more.” + </p> + <p> + He looked round the room. Not a chair was out of its place, not a speck of + dust was to be seen. The brightly-perfect polish of the table made your + eyes ache; the ornaments on it looked as if they had never been touched by + mortal hand; the piano was an object for distant admiration, not an + instrument to be played on; the carpet made Mr. Troy look nervously at the + soles of his shoes; and the sofa (protected by layers of white + crochet-work) said as plainly as if in words, “Sit on me if you dare!” Mr. + Troy retreated to a bookcase at the further end of the room. The books + fitted the shelves to such absolute perfection that he had some difficulty + in taking one of them out. When he had succeeded, he found himself in + possession of a volume of the History of England. On the fly-leaf he + encountered another written warning:—“This book belongs to Miss + Pink’s Academy for Young Ladies, and is not to be removed from the + library.” The date, which was added, referred to a period of ten years + since. Miss Pink now stood revealed as a retired schoolmistress, and Mr. + Troy began to understand some of the characteristic peculiarities of that + lady’s establishment which had puzzled him up to the present time. + </p> + <p> + He had just succeeded in putting the book back again when the door opened + once more, and Isabel’s aunt entered the room. + </p> + <p> + If Miss Pink could, by any possible conjuncture of circumstances, have + disappeared mysteriously from her house and her friends, the police would + have found the greatest difficulty in composing the necessary description + of the missing lady. The acutest observer could have discovered nothing + that was noticeable or characteristic in her personal appearance. The pen + of the present writer portrays her in despair by a series of negatives. + She was not young, she was not old; she was neither tall nor short, nor + stout nor thin; nobody could call her features attractive, and nobody + could call them ugly; there was nothing in her voice, her expression, her + manner, or her dress that differed in any appreciable degree from the + voice, expression, manner, and dress of five hundred thousand other single + ladies of her age and position in the world. If you had asked her to + describe herself, she would have answered, “I am a gentlewoman”; and if + you had further inquired which of her numerous accomplishments took + highest rank in her own esteem, she would have replied, “My powers of + conversation.” For the rest, she was Miss Pink, of South Morden; and, when + that has been said, all has been said. + </p> + <p> + “Pray be seated, sir. We have had a beautiful day, after the + long-continued wet weather. I am told that the season is very unfavorable + for wall-fruit. May I offer you some refreshment after your journey?” In + these terms and in the smoothest of voices, Miss Pink opened the + interview. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy made a polite reply, and added a few strictly conventional + remarks on the beauty of the neighborhood. Not even a lawyer could sit in + Miss Pink’s presence, and hear Miss Pink’s conversation, without feeling + himself called upon (in the nursery phrase) to “be on his best behavior”. + </p> + <p> + “It is extremely kind of you, Mr. Troy, to favor me with this visit,” Miss + Pink resumed. “I am well aware that the time of professional gentlemen is + of especial value to them; and I will therefore ask you to excuse me if I + proceed abruptly to the subject on which I desire to consult your + experience.” + </p> + <p> + Here the lady modestly smoothed out her dress over her knees, and the + lawyer made a bow. Miss Pink’s highly-trained conversation had perhaps one + fault—it was not, strictly speaking, conversation at all. In its + effect on her hearers it rather resembled the contents of a fluently + conventional letter, read aloud. + </p> + <p> + “The circumstances under which my niece Isabel has left Lady Lydiard’s + house,” Miss Pink proceeded, “are so indescribably painful—I will go + further, I will say so deeply humiliating—that I have forbidden her + to refer to them again in my presence, or to mention them in the future to + any living creature besides myself. You are acquainted with those + circumstances, Mr. Troy; and you will understand my indignation when I + first learnt that my sister’s child had been suspected of theft. I have + not the honor of being acquainted with Lady Lydiard. She is not a + Countess, I believe? Just so! Her husband was only a Baron. I am not + acquainted with Lady Lydiard; and I will not trust myself to say what I + think of her conduct to my niece.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, madam,” Mr. Troy interposed. “Before you say any more about + Lady Lydiard, I really must beg leave to observe—” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon <i>me</i>,” Miss Pink rejoined. “I never form a hasty judgment. + Lady Lydiard’s conduct is beyond the reach of any defense, no matter how + ingenious it may be. You may not be aware, sir, that in receiving my niece + under her roof her Ladyship was receiving a gentlewoman by birth as well + as by education. My late lamented sister was the daughter of a clergyman + of the Church of England. I need hardly remind you that, as such, she was + a born lady. Under favoring circumstances, Isabel’s maternal grandfather + might have been Archbishop of Canterbury, and have taken precedence of the + whole House of Peers, the Princes of the blood Royal alone excepted. I am + not prepared to say that my niece is equally well connected on her + father’s side. My sister surprised—I will not add shocked—us + when she married a chemist. At the same time, a chemist is not a + tradesman. He is a gentleman at one end of the profession of Medicine, and + a titled physician is a gentleman at the other end. That is all. In + inviting Isabel to reside with her, Lady Lydiard, I repeat, was bound to + remember that she was associating herself with a young gentlewoman. She + has <i>not</i> remembered this, which is one insult; and she has suspected + my niece of theft, which is another.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink paused to take breath. Mr. Troy made a second attempt to get a + hearing. + </p> + <p> + “Will you kindly permit me, madam, to say a few words?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Miss Pink, asserting the most immovable obstinacy under the + blandest politeness of manner. “Your time, Mr. Troy, is really too + valuable! Not even your trained intellect can excuse conduct which is + manifestly <i>in</i>excusable on the face of it. Now you know my opinion + of Lady Lydiard, you will not be surprised to hear that I decline to trust + her Ladyship. She may, or she may not, cause the necessary inquiries to be + made for the vindication of my niece’s character. In a matter so serious + as this—I may say, in a duty which I owe to the memories of my + sister and my parents—I will not leave the responsibility to Lady + Lydiard. I will take it on myself. Let me add that I am able to pay the + necessary expenses. The earlier years of my life, Mr. Troy, have been + passed in the tuition of young ladies. I have been happy in meriting the + confidence of parents; and I have been strict in observing the golden + rules of economy. On my retirement, I have been able to invest a modest, a + very modest, little fortune in the Funds. A portion of it is at the + service of my niece for the recovery of her good name; and I desire to + place the necessary investigation confidentially in your hands. You are + acquainted with the case, and the case naturally goes to you. I could not + prevail on myself—I really could not prevail on myself—to + mention it to a stranger. That is the business on which I wished to + consult you. Please say nothing more about Lady Lydiard—the subject + is inexpressibly disagreeable to me. I will only trespass on your kindness + to tell me if I have succeeded in making myself understood.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink leaned back in her chair, at the exact angle permitted by the + laws of propriety; rested her left elbow on the palm of her right hand, + and lightly supported her cheek with her forefinger and thumb. In this + position she waited Mr. Troy’s answer—the living picture of human + obstinacy in its most respectable form. + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Troy had not been a lawyer—in other words, if he had not been + professionally capable of persisting in his own course, in the face of + every conceivable difficulty and discouragement—Miss Pink might have + remained in undisturbed possession of her own opinions. As it was, Mr. + Troy had got his hearing at last; and no matter how obstinately she might + close her eyes to it, Miss Pink was now destined to have the other side of + the case presented to her view. + </p> + <p> + “I am sincerely obliged to you, madam, for the expression of your + confidence in me,” Mr. Troy began; “at the same time, I must beg you to + excuse me if I decline to accept your proposal.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink had not expected to receive such an answer as this. The lawyer’s + brief refusal surprised and annoyed her. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you decline to assist me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” answered Mr. Troy, “my services are already engaged, in Miss + Isabel’s interest, by a client whom I have served for more than twenty + years. My client is—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink anticipated the coming disclosure. “You need not trouble + yourself, sir, to mention your client’s name,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “My client,” persisted Mr. Troy, “loves Miss Isabel dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a matter of opinion,” Miss Pink interposed. + </p> + <p> + “And believes in Miss Isabel’s innocence,” proceeded the irrepressible + lawyer, “as firmly as you believe in it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink (being human) had a temper; and Mr. Troy had found his way to + it. + </p> + <p> + “If Lady Lydiard believes in my niece’s innocence,” said Miss Pink, + suddenly sitting bolt upright in her chair, “why has my niece been + compelled, in justice to herself, to leave Lady Lydiard’s house?” + </p> + <p> + “You will admit, madam,” Mr. Troy answered cautiously, “that we are all of + us liable, in this wicked world, to be the victims of appearances. Your + niece is a victim—an innocent victim. She wisely withdraws from Lady + Lydiard’s house until appearances are proved to be false and her position + is cleared up.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink had her reply ready. “That is simply acknowledging, in other + words, that my niece is suspected. I am only a woman, Mr. Troy—but + it is not quite so easy to mislead me as you seem to suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy’s temper was admirably trained. But it began to acknowledge that + Miss Pink’s powers of irritation could sting to some purpose. + </p> + <p> + “No intention of misleading you, madam, has ever crossed my mind,” he + rejoined warmly. “As for your niece, I can tell you this. In all my + experience of Lady Lydiard, I never saw her so distressed as she was when + Miss Isabel left the house!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Miss Pink, with an incredulous smile. “In my rank of life, + when we feel distressed about a person, we do our best to comfort that + person by a kind letter or an early visit. But then I am not a lady of + title.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Lydiard engaged herself to call on Miss Isabel in my hearing,” said + Mr. Troy. “Lady Lydiard is the most generous woman living!” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Lydiard is here!” cried a joyful voice on the other side of the + door. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment, Isabel burst into the room in a state of excitement + which actually ignored the formidable presence of Miss Pink. “I beg your + pardon, aunt! I was upstairs at the window, and I saw the carriage stop at + the gate. And Tommie has come, too! The darling saw me at the window!” + cried the poor girl, her eyes sparkling with delight as a perfect + explosion of barking made itself heard over the tramp of horses’ feet and + the crash of carriage wheels outside. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink rose slowly, with a dignity that looked capable of adequately + receiving—not one noble lady only, but the whole peerage of England. + </p> + <p> + “Control yourself, dear Isabel,” she said. “No well-bred young lady + permits herself to become unduly excited. Stand by my side—a little + behind me.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel obeyed. Mr. Troy kept his place, and privately enjoyed his triumph + over Miss Pink. If Lady Lydiard had been actually in league with him, she + could not have chosen a more opportune time for her visit. A momentary + interval passed. The carriage drew up at the door; the horses trampled on + the gravel; the bell rung madly; the uproar of Tommie, released from the + carriage and clamoring to be let in, redoubled its fury. Never before had + such an unruly burst of noises invaded the tranquility of Miss Pink’s + villa! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + THE trim little maid-servant ran upstairs from her modest little kitchen, + trembling at the terrible prospect of having to open the door. Miss Pink, + deafened by the barking, had just time to say, “What a very ill-behaved + dog!” when a sound of small objects overthrown in the hall, and a + scurrying of furious claws across the oil-cloth, announced that Tommie had + invaded the house. As the servant appeared, introducing Lady Lydiard, the + dog ran in. He made one frantic leap at Isabel, which would certainly have + knocked her down but for the chair that happened to be standing behind + her. Received on her lap, the faithful creature half smothered her with + his caresses. He barked, he shrieked, in his joy at seeing her again. He + jumped off her lap and tore round and round the room at the top of his + speed; and every time he passed Miss Pink he showed the whole range of his + teeth and snarled ferociously at her ankles. Having at last exhausted his + superfluous energy, he leaped back again on Isabel’s lap, with his tongue + quivering in his open mouth—his tail wagging softly, and his eye on + Miss Pink, inquiring how she liked a dog in her drawing-room! + </p> + <p> + “I hope my dog has not disturbed you, ma’am?” said Lady Lydiard, advancing + from the mat at the doorway, on which she had patiently waited until the + raptures of Tommie subsided into repose. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink, trembling between terror and indignation, acknowledged Lady + Lydiard’s polite inquiry by a ceremonious bow, and an answer which + administered by implication a dignified reproof. “Your Ladyship’s dog does + not appear to be a very well-trained animal,” the ex-schoolmistress + remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Well trained?” Lady Lydiard repeated, as if the expression was perfectly + unintelligible to her. “I don’t think you have had much experience of + dogs, ma’am.” She turned to Isabel, and embraced her tenderly. “Give me a + kiss, my dear—you don’t know how wretched I have been since you left + me.” She looked back again at Miss Pink. “You are not, perhaps, aware, + ma’am, that my dog is devotedly attached to your niece. A dog’s love has + been considered by many great men (whose names at the moment escape me) as + the most touching and disinterested of all earthly affections.” She looked + the other way, and discovered the lawyer. “How do you do, Mr. Troy? It’s a + pleasant surprise to find you here The house was so dull without Isabel + that I really couldn’t put off seeing her any longer. When you are more + used to Tommie, Miss Pink, you will understand and admire him. <i>You</i> + understand and admire him, Isabel—don’t you? My child! you are not + looking well. I shall take you back with me, when the horses have had + their rest. We shall never be happy away from each other.” + </p> + <p> + Having expressed her sentiments, distributed her greetings, and defended + her dog—all, as it were, in one breath—Lady Lydiard sat down + by Isabel’s side, and opened a large green fan that hung at her girdle. + “You have no idea, Miss Pink, how fat people suffer in hot weather,” said + the old lady, using her fan vigorously. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink’s eyes dropped modestly to the ground—“fat” was such a + coarse word to use, if a lady <i>must</i> speak of her own superfluous + flesh! “May I offer some refreshment?” Miss Pink asked, mincingly. “A cup + of tea?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “A glass of water?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard declined this last hospitable proposal with an exclamation of + disgust. “Have you got any beer?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your Ladyship’s pardon,” said Miss Pink, doubting the evidence of + her own ears. “Did you say—beer?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard gesticulated vehemently with her fan. “Yes, to be sure! Beer! + beer!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink rose, with a countenance expressive of genteel disgust, and rang + the bell. “I think you have beer downstairs, Susan?” she said, when the + maid appeared at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “A glass of beer for Lady Lydiard,” said Miss Pink—under protest. + </p> + <p> + “Bring it in a jug,” shouted her Ladyship, as the maid left the room. “I + like to froth it up for myself,” she continued, addressing Miss Pink. + “Isabel sometimes does it for me, when she is at home—don’t you, my + dear?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink had been waiting her opportunity to assert her own claim to the + possession of her own niece, from the time when Lady Lydiard had coolly + declared her intention of taking Isabel back with her. The opportunity now + presented itself. + </p> + <p> + “Your Ladyship will pardon me,” she said, “if I remark that my niece’s + home is under my humble roof. I am properly sensible, I hope, of your + kindness to Isabel, but while she remains the object of a disgraceful + suspicion she remains with me.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard closed her fan with an angry snap. + </p> + <p> + “You are completely mistaken, Miss Pink. You may not mean it—but you + speak most unjustly if you say that your niece is an object of suspicion + to me, or to anybody in my house.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy, quietly listening up to this point now interposed to stop the + discussion before it could degenerate into a personal quarrel. His keen + observation, aided by his accurate knowledge of his client’s character, + had plainly revealed to him what was passing in Lady Lydiard’s mind. She + had entered the house, feeling (perhaps unconsciously) a jealousy of Miss + Pink, as her predecessor in Isabel’s affections, and as the natural + protectress of the girl under existing circumstances. Miss Pink’s + reception of her dog had additionally irritated the old lady. She had + taken a malicious pleasure in shocking the schoolmistress’s sense of + propriety—and she was now only too ready to proceed to further + extremities on the delicate question of Isabel’s justification for leaving + her house. For Isabel’s own sake, therefore—to say nothing of other + reasons—it was urgently desirable to keep the peace between the two + ladies. With this excellent object in view, Mr. Troy seized his + opportunity of striking into the conversation for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Lady Lydiard,” he said, “you are speaking of a subject which + has been already sufficiently discussed between Miss Pink and myself. I + think we shall do better not to dwell uselessly on past events, but to + direct our attention to the future. We are all equally satisfied of the + complete rectitude of Miss Isabel’s conduct, and we are all equally + interested in the vindication of her good name.” + </p> + <p> + Whether these temperate words would of themselves have exercised the + pacifying influence at which Mr. Troy aimed may be doubtful. But, as he + ceased speaking, a powerful auxiliary appeared in the shape of the beer. + Lady Lydiard seized on the jug, and filled the tumbler for herself with an + unsteady hand. Miss Pink, trembling for the integrity of her carpet, and + scandalized at seeing a peeress drinking beer like a washer-woman, forgot + the sharp answer that was just rising to her lips when the lawyer + interfered. “Small!” said Lady Lydiard, setting down the empty tumbler, + and referring to the quality of the beer. “But very pleasant and + refreshing. What’s the servant’s name? Susan? Well, Susan, I was dying of + thirst and you have saved my life. You can leave the jug—I dare say + I shall empty it before I go.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy, watching Miss Pink’s face, saw that it was time to change the + subject again. + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice the old village, Lady Lydiard, on your way here?” he + asked. “The artists consider it one of the most picturesque places in + England.” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed that it was a very dirty village,” Lady Lydiard answered, still + bent on making herself disagreeable to Miss Pink. “The artists may say + what they please; I see nothing to admire in rotten cottages, and bad + drainage, and ignorant people. I suppose the neighborhood has its + advantages. It looks dull enough, to my mind.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel had hitherto modestly restricted her exertions to keeping Tommie + quiet on her lap. Like Mr. Troy, she occasionally looked at her aunt—and + she now made a timid attempt to defend the neighborhood as a duty that she + owed to Miss Pink. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my Lady! don’t say it’s a dull neighborhood,” she pleaded. “There are + such pretty walks all round us. And, when you get to the hills, the view + is beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard’s answer to this was a little masterpiece of good-humored + contempt. She patted Isabel’s cheek, and said, “Pooh! Pooh!” + </p> + <p> + “Your Ladyship does not admire the beauties of Nature,” Miss Pink + remarked, with a compassionate smile. “As we get older, no doubt our sight + begins to fail—” + </p> + <p> + “And we leave off canting about the beauties of Nature,” added Lady + Lydiard. “I hate the country. Give me London, and the pleasures of + society.” + </p> + <p> + “Come! come! Do the country justice, Lady Lydiard!” put in peace-making + Mr. Troy. “There is plenty of society to be found out of London—as + good society as the world can show.” + </p> + <p> + “The sort of society,” added Miss Pink, “which is to be found, for + example, in this neighborhood. Her Ladyship is evidently not aware that + persons of distinction surround us, whichever way we turn. I may instance + among others, the Honorable Mr. Hardyman—” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard, in the act of pouring out a second glassful of beer, + suddenly set down the jug. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that you’re talking of, Miss Pink?” + </p> + <p> + “I am talking of our neighbor, Lady Lydiard—the Honorable Mr. + Hardyman.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean Alfred Hardyman—the man who breeds the horses?” + </p> + <p> + “The distinguished gentleman who owns the famous stud-farm,” said Miss + Pink, correcting the bluntly-direct form in which Lady Lydiard had put her + question. + </p> + <p> + “Is he in the habit of visiting here?” the old lady inquired, with a + sudden appearance of anxiety. “Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “I had the honor of being introduced to Mr. Hardyman at our last flower + show,” Miss Pink replied. “He has not yet favored me with a visit.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard’s anxiety appeared to be to some extent relieved. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that Hardyman’s farm was in this county,” she said; “but I had no + notion that it was in the neighborhood of South Morden. How far away is he—ten + or a dozen miles, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Not more than three miles,” answered Miss Pink. “We consider him quite a + near neighbor of ours.” + </p> + <p> + Renewed anxiety showed itself in Lady Lydiard. She looked round sharply at + Isabel. The girl’s head was bent so low over the rough head of the dog + that her face was almost entirely concealed from view. So far as + appearances went, she seemed to be entirely absorbed in fondling Tommie. + Lady Lydiard roused her with a tap of the green fan. + </p> + <p> + “Take Tommie out, Isabel, for a run in the garden,” she said. “He won’t + sit still much longer—and he may annoy Miss Pink. Mr. Troy, will you + kindly help Isabel to keep my ill-trained dog in order?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy got on his feet, and, not very willingly, followed Isabel out of + the room. “They will quarrel now, to a dead certainty!” he thought to + himself, as he closed the door. “Have you any idea of what this means?” he + said to his companion, as he joined her in the hall. “What has Mr. + Hardyman done to excite all this interest in him?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel’s guilty color rose. She knew perfectly well that Hardyman’s + unconcealed admiration of her was the guiding motive of Lady Lydiard’s + inquiries. If she had told the truth, Mr. Troy would have unquestionably + returned to the drawing-room, with or without an acceptable excuse for + intruding himself. But Isabel was a woman; and her answer, it is needless + to say, was “I don’t know, I’m sure.” + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, the interview between the two ladies began in a manner + which would have astonished Mr. Troy—they were both silent. For once + in her life Lady Lydiard was considering what she should say, before she + said it. Miss Pink, on her side, naturally waited to hear what object her + Ladyship had in view—waited, until her small reserve of patience + gave way. Urged by irresistible curiosity, she spoke first. + </p> + <p> + “Have you anything to say to me in private?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard had not got to the end of her reflections. She said “Yes!”—and + she said no more. + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything relating to my niece?” persisted Miss Pink. + </p> + <p> + Still immersed in her reflections, Lady Lydiard suddenly rose to the + surface, and spoke her mind, as usual. + </p> + <p> + “About your niece, ma’am. The other day Mr. Hardyman called at my house, + and saw Isabel.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Miss Pink, politely attentive, but not in the least + interested, so far. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not all ma’am. Mr. Hardyman admires Isabel; he owned it to me + himself in so many words.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink listened, with a courteous inclination of her head. She looked + mildly gratified, nothing more. Lady Lydiard proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “You and I think differently on many matters,” she said. “But we are both + agreed, I am sure, in feeling the sincerest interest in Isabel’s welfare. + I beg to suggest to you, Miss Pink, that Mr. Hardyman, as a near neighbor + of yours, is a very undesirable neighbor while Isabel remains in your + house.” + </p> + <p> + Saying those words, under a strong conviction of the serious importance of + the subject, Lady Lydiard insensibly recovered the manner and resumed the + language which befitted a lady of her rank. Miss Pink, noticing the + change, set it down to an expression of pride on the part of her visitor + which, in referring to Isabel, assailed indirectly the social position of + Isabel’s aunt. + </p> + <p> + “I fail entirely to understand what your Ladyship means,” she said coldly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard, on her side, looked in undisguised amazement at Miss Pink. + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t I told you already that Mr. Hardyman admires your niece?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” said Miss Pink. “Isabel inherits her lamented mother’s + personal advantages. If Mr. Hardyman admires her, Mr. Hardyman shows his + good taste.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard’s eyes opened wider and wider in wonder. “My good lady!” she + exclaimed, “is it possible you don’t know that when a man admires a women + he doesn’t stop there? He falls in love with her (as the saying is) next.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have heard,” said Miss Pink. + </p> + <p> + “So you have <i>heard?</i>” repeated Lady Lydiard. “If Mr. Hardyman finds + his way to Isabel I can tell you what you will <i>see</i>. Catch the two + together, ma’am—and you will see Mr. Hardyman making love to your + niece.” + </p> + <p> + “Under due restrictions, Lady Lydiard, and with my permission first + obtained, of course, I see no objection to Mr. Hardyman paying his + addresses to Isabel.” + </p> + <p> + “The woman is mad!” cried Lady Lydiard. “Do you actually suppose, Miss + Pink, that Alfred Hardyman could, by any earthly possibility, marry your + niece!” + </p> + <p> + Not even Miss Pink’s politeness could submit to such a question as this. + She rose indignantly from her chair. “As you aware, Lady Lydiard, that the + doubt you have just expressed is an insult to my niece, and a insult to + Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Are <i>you</i> aware of who Mr. Hardyman really is?” retorted her + Ladyship. “Or do you judge of his position by the vocation in life which + he has perversely chosen to adopt? I can tell you, if you do, that Alfred + Hardyman is the younger son of one of the oldest barons in the English + Peerage, and that his mother is related by marriage to the Royal family of + Wurtemberg.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink received the full shock of this information without receding + from her position by a hair-breadth. + </p> + <p> + “An English gentlewoman offers a fit alliance to any man living who seeks + her hand in marriage,” said Miss Pink. “Isabel’s mother (you may not be + aware of it) was the daughter of an English clergyman—” + </p> + <p> + “And Isabel’s father was a chemist in a country town,” added Lady Lydiard. + </p> + <p> + “Isabel’s father,” rejoined Miss Pink, “was attached in a most responsible + capacity to the useful and honorable profession of Medicine. Isabel is, in + the strictest sense of the word, a young gentlewoman. If you contradict + that for a single instant, Lady Lydiard, you will oblige me to leave the + room.” + </p> + <p> + Those last words produced a result which Miss Pink had not anticipated—they + roused Lady Lydiard to assert herself. As usual in such cases, she rose + superior to her own eccentricity. Confronting Miss Pink, she now spoke and + looked with the gracious courtesy and the unpresuming self-confidence of + the order to which she belonged. + </p> + <p> + “For Isabel’s own sake, and for the quieting of my conscience,” she + answered, “I will say one word more, Miss Pink, before I relieve you of my + presence. Considering my age and my opportunities, I may claim to know + quite as much as you do of the laws and customs which regulate society in + our time. Without contesting your niece’s social position—and + without the slightest intention of insulting you—I repeat that the + rank which Mr. Hardyman inherits makes it simply impossible for him even + to think of marrying Isabel. You will do well not to give him any + opportunities of meeting with her alone. And you will do better still + (seeing that he is so near a neighbor of yours) if you permit Isabel to + return to my protection, for a time at least. I will wait to hear from you + when you have thought the matter over at your leisure. In the mean time, + if I have inadvertently offended you, I ask your pardon—and I wish + you good-evening.” + </p> + <p> + She bowed, and walked to the door. Miss Pink, as resolute as ever in + maintaining her pretensions, made an effort to match the great lady on her + own ground. + </p> + <p> + “Before you go, Lady Lydiard, I beg to apologize if I have spoken too + warmly on my side,” she said. “Permit me to send for your carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Miss Pink. My carriage is only at the village inn. I shall + enjoy a little walk in the cool evening air. Mr. Troy, I have no doubt, + will give me his arm.” She bowed once more, and quietly left the room. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the little back garden of the villa, through an open door at the + further end of the hall, Lady Lydiard found Tommie rolling luxuriously on + Miss Pink’s flower-beds, and Isabel and Mr. Troy in close consultation on + the gravel walk. + </p> + <p> + She spoke to the lawyer first. + </p> + <p> + “They are baiting the horses at the inn,” she said. “I want your arm, Mr. + Troy, as far as the village—and, in return, I will take you back to + London with me. I have to ask your advice about one or two little matters, + and this is a good opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest pleasure, Lady Lydiard. I suppose I must say good-by to + Miss Pink?” + </p> + <p> + “A word of advice to you, Mr. Troy. Take care how you ruffle Miss Pink’s + sense of her own importance. Another word for your private ear. Miss Pink + is a fool.” + </p> + <p> + On the lawyer’s withdrawal, Lady Lydiard put her arm fondly round Isabel’s + waist. “What were you and Mr. Troy so busy in talking about?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “We were talking, my Lady, about tracing the person who stole the money,” + Isabel answered, rather sadly. “It seems a far more difficult matter than + I supposed it to be. I try not to lose patience and hope—but it is a + little hard to feel that appearances are against me, and to wait day after + day in vain for the discovery that is to set me right.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a dear good child,” said Lady Lydiard; “and you are more precious + to me than ever. Don’t despair, Isabel. With Mr. Troy’s means of + inquiring, and with my means of paying, the discovery of the thief cannot + be much longer delayed. If you don’t return to me soon, I shall come back + and see you again. Your aunt hates the sight of me—but I don’t care + two straws for that,” remarked Lady Lydiard, showing the undignified side + of her character once more. “Listen to me, Isabel! I have no wish to lower + your aunt in your estimation, but I feel far more confidence in your good + sense than in hers. Mr. Hardyman’s business has taken him to France for + the present. It is at least possible that you may meet with him on his + return. If you do, keep him at a distance, my dear—politely, of + course. There! there! you needn’t turn red; I am not blaming you; I am + only giving you a little good advice. In your position you cannot possibly + be too careful. Here is Mr. Troy! You must come to the gate with us, + Isabel, or we shall never get Tommie away from you; I am only his second + favorite; you have the first place in his affections. God bless and + prosper you, my child!—I wish to heaven you were going back to + London with me! Well, Mr. Troy, how have you done with Miss Pink? Have you + offended that terrible ‘gentlewoman’ (hateful word!); or has it been all + the other way, and has she given you a kiss at parting?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy smiled mysteriously, and changed the subject. His brief parting + interview with the lady of the house was not of a nature to be rashly + related. Miss Pink had not only positively assured him that her visitor + was the most ill-bred woman she had ever met with, but had further accused + Lady Lydiard of shaking her confidence in the aristocracy of her native + country. “For the first time in my life,” said Miss Pink, “I feel that + something is to be said for the Republican point of view; and I am not + indisposed to admit that the constitution of the United States <i>has</i> + its advantages!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + THE conference between Lady Lydiard and Mr. Troy, on the way back to + London, led to some practical results. + </p> + <p> + Hearing from her legal adviser that the inquiry after the missing money + was for a moment at a standstill, Lady Lydiard made one of those bold + suggestions with which she was accustomed to startle her friends in cases + of emergency. She had heard favorable reports of the extraordinary + ingenuity of the French police; and she now proposed sending to Paris for + assistance, after first consulting her nephew, Mr. Felix Sweetsir. “Felix + knows Paris as well as he knows London,” she remarked. “He is an idle man, + and it is quite likely that he will relieve us of all trouble by taking + the matter into his own hands. In any case, he is sure to know who are the + right people to address in our present necessity. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy, in reply, expressed his doubts as to the wisdom of employing + foreigners in a delicate investigation which required an accurate + knowledge of English customs and English character. Waiving this + objection, he approved of the idea of consulting her Ladyship’s nephew. + “Mr. Sweetsir is a man of the world,” he said. “In putting the case before + him, we are sure to have it presented to us from a new point of view.” + Acting on this favorable expression of opinion, Lady Lydiard wrote to her + nephew. On the day after the visit to Miss Pink, the proposed council of + three was held at Lady Lydiard’s house. + </p> + <p> + Felix, never punctual at keeping an appointment, was even later than usual + on this occasion. He made his apologies with his hand pressed upon his + forehead, and his voice expressive of the languor and discouragement of a + suffering man. + </p> + <p> + “The beastly English climate is telling on my nerves,” said Mr. Sweetsir—“the + horrid weight of the atmosphere, after the exhilarating air of Paris; the + intolerable dirt and dullness of London, you know. I was in bed, my dear + aunt, when I received your letter. You may imagine the completely + demoralised state I was in, when I tell you of the effect which the news + of the robbery produced on me. I fell back on my pillow, as if I had been + shot. Your Ladyship should really be a little more careful in + communicating these disagreeable surprises to a sensitively-organised man. + Never mind—my valet is a perfect treasure; he brought me some drops + of ether on a lump of sugar. I said, ‘Alfred’ (his name is Alfred), ‘put + me into my clothes!’ Alfred put me in. I assure you it reminded me of my + young days, when I was put into my first pair of trousers. Has Alfred + forgotten anything? Have I got my braces on? Have I come out in my + shirt-sleeves? Well, dear aunt;—well, Mr. Troy!—what can I + say? What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard, entirely without sympathy for nervous suffering, nodded to + the lawyer. “You tell him,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I speak for her Ladyship,” Mr. Troy began, “when I say that we + should like to hear, in the first place, how the whole case strikes you, + Mr. Sweetsir?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell it me all over again,” said Felix. + </p> + <p> + Patient Mr. Troy told it all over again—and waited for the result. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Mr. Troy. “Where does the suspicion of robbery rest in your + opinion? You look at the theft of the bank-note with a fresh eye.” + </p> + <p> + “You mentioned a clergyman just now,” said Felix. “The man, you know, to + whom the money was sent. What was his name?” + </p> + <p> + “The Reverend Samuel Bradstock.” + </p> + <p> + “You want me to name the person whom I suspect?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you please,” said Mr. Troy. + </p> + <p> + “I suspect the Reverend Samuel Bradstock,” said Felix. + </p> + <p> + “If you have come here to make stupid jokes,” interposed Lady Lydiard, + “you had better go back to your bed again. We want a serious opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “You <i>have</i> a serious opinion,” Felix coolly rejoined. “I never was + more in earnest in my life. Your Ladyship is not aware of the first + principle to be adopted in cases of suspicion. One proceeds on what I will + call the exhaustive system of reasoning. Thus: Does suspicion point to the + honest servants downstairs? No. To your Ladyship’s adopted daughter? + Appearances are against the poor girl; but you know her better than to + trust to appearances. Are you suspicious of Moody? No. Of Hardyman—who + was in the house at the time? Ridiculous! But I was in the house at the + time, too. Do you suspect Me? Just so! That idea is ridiculous, too. Now + let us sum up. Servants, adopted daughter, Moody, Hardyman, Sweetsir—all + beyond suspicion. Who is left? The Reverend Samuel Bradstock.” + </p> + <p> + This ingenious exposition of “the exhaustive system of reasoning,” failed + to produce any effect on Lady Lydiard. “You are wasting our time,” she + said sharply. “You know as well as I do that you are talking nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” said Felix. “Taking the gentlemanly professions all round, I + know of no men who are so eager to get money, and who have so few scruples + about how they get it, as the parsons. Where is there a man in any other + profession who perpetually worries you for money?—who holds the bag + under your nose for money?—who sends his clerk round from door to + door to beg a few shillings of you, and calls it an ‘Easter offering’? The + parson does all this. Bradstock is a parson. I put it logically. Bowl me + over, if you can.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy attempted to “bowl him over,” nevertheless. Lady Lydiard wisely + interposed. + </p> + <p> + “When a man persists in talking nonsense,” she said, “silence is the best + answer; anything else only encourages him.” She turned to Felix. “I have a + question to ask you,” she went on. “You will either give me a serious + reply, or wish me good-morning.” With this brief preface, she made her + inquiry as to the wisdom and possibility of engaging the services of the + French police. + </p> + <p> + Felix took exactly the view of the matter which had been already expressed + by Mr. Troy. “Superior in intelligence,” he said, “but not superior in + courage, to the English police. Capable of performing wonders on their own + ground and among their own people. But, my dear aunt, the two most + dissimilar nations on the face of the earth are the English and the + French. The French police may speak our language—but they are + incapable of understanding our national character and our national + manners. Set them to work on a private inquiry in the city of Pekin—and + they would get on in time with the Chinese people. Set them to work in the + city of London—and the English people would remain, from first to + last, the same impenetrable mystery to them. In my belief the London + Sunday would be enough of itself to drive them back to Paris in despair. + No balls, no concerts, no theaters, not even a museum or a picture-gallery + open; every shop shut up but the gin-shop; and nothing moving but the + church bells and the men who sell the penny ices. Hundreds of Frenchmen + come to see me on their first arrival in England. Every man of them rushes + back to Paris on the second Saturday of his visit, rather than confront + the horrors of a second Sunday in London! However, you can try it if you + like. Send me a written abstract of the case, and I will forward it to one + of the official people in the Rue Jerusalem, who will do anything he can + to oblige me. Of course,” said Felix, turning to Mr. Troy, “some of you + have got the number of the lost bank-note? If the thief has tried to pass + it in Paris, my man may be of some use to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Three of us have got the number of the note,” answered Mr. Troy; “Miss + Isabel Miller, Mr. Moody, and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Felix. “Send me the number, with the abstract of the + case. Is there anything else I can do towards recovering the money?” he + asked, turning to his aunt. “There is one lucky circumstance in connection + with this loss—isn’t there? It has fallen on a person who is rich + enough to take it easy. Good heavens! suppose it had been <i>my</i> loss!” + </p> + <p> + “It has fallen doubly on me,” said Lady Lydiard; “and I am certainly not + rich enough to take it <i>that</i> easy. The money was destined to a + charitable purpose; and I have felt it my duty to pay it again.” + </p> + <p> + Felix rose and approached his aunt’s chair with faltering steps, as became + a suffering man. He took Lady Lydiard’s hand and kissed it with + enthusiastic admiration. + </p> + <p> + “You excellent creature!” he said. “You may not think it, but you + reconcile me to human nature. How generous! how noble! I think I’ll go to + bed again, Mr. Troy, if you really don’t want any more of me. My head + feels giddy and my legs tremble under me. It doesn’t matter; I shall feel + easier when Alfred has taken me out of my clothes again. God bless you, my + dear aunt! I never felt so proud of being related to you as I do to-day. + Good-morning Mr. Troy! Don’t forget the abstract of the case; and don’t + trouble yourself to see me to the door. I dare say I shan’t tumble + downstairs; and, if I do, there’s the porter in the hall to pick me up + again. Enviable porter! as fat as butter and as idle as a pig! <i>Au + revoir! au revoir!</i>” He kissed his hand, and drifted feebly out of the + room. Sweetsir one might say, in a state of eclipse; but still the + serviceable Sweetsir, who was never consulted in vain by the fortunate + people privileged to call him friend! + </p> + <p> + “Is he really ill, do you think?” Mr. Troy asked. + </p> + <p> + “My nephew has turned fifty,” Lady Lydiard answered, “and he persists in + living as if he was a young man. Every now and then Nature says to him, + ‘Felix, you are old!’ And Felix goes to bed, and says it’s his nerves.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he is to be trusted to keep his word about writing to Paris?” + pursued the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! He may delay doing it but he will do it. In spite of his + lackadaisical manner, he has moments of energy that would surprise you. + Talking of surprises, I have something to tell you about Moody. Within the + last day or two there has been a marked change in him—a change for + the worse.” + </p> + <p> + “You astonish me, Lady Lydiard! In what way has Moody deteriorated?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear. Yesterday was Friday. You took him out with you, on + business, early in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy bowed, and said nothing. He had not thought it desirable to + mention the interview at which Old Sharon had cheated him of his guinea. + </p> + <p> + “In the course of the afternoon,” pursued Lady Lydiard, “I happened to + want him, and I was informed that Moody had gone out again. Where had he + gone? Nobody knew. Had he left word when he would be back? He had left no + message of any sort. Of course, he is not in the position of an ordinary + servant. I don’t expect him to ask permission to go out. But I do expect + him to leave word downstairs of the time at which he is likely to return. + When he did come back, after an absence of some hours, I naturally asked + for an explanation. Would you believe it? he simply informed me that he + had been away on business of his own; expressed no regret, and offered no + explanation—in short, spoke as if he was an independent gentleman. + You may not think it, but I kept my temper. I merely remarked that I hoped + it would not happen again. He made me a bow, and he said, ‘My business is + not completed yet, my Lady. I cannot guarantee that it may not call me + away again at a moment’s notice.’ What do you think of that? Nine people + out of ten would have given him warning to leave their service. I begin to + think I am a wonderful woman—I only pointed to the door. One does + hear sometimes of men’s brains softening in the most unexpected manner. I + have my suspicions of Moody’s brains, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy’s suspicions took a different direction: they pointed along the + line of streets which led to Old Sharon’s lodgings. Discreetly silent as + to the turn which his thoughts had taken, he merely expressed himself as + feeling too much surprised to offer any opinion at all. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little,” said Lady Lydiard, “I haven’t done surprising you yet. + You have seen a boy here in a page’s livery, I think? Well, he is a good + boy; and he has gone home for a week’s holiday with his friends. The + proper person to supply his place with the boots and shoes and other small + employments, is of course the youngest footman, a lad only a few years + older than himself. What do you think Moody does? Engages a stranger, with + the house full of idle men-servants already, to fill the page’s place. At + intervals this morning I heard them wonderfully merry in the servants hall—<i>so</i> + merry that the noise and laughter found its way upstairs to the + breakfast-room. I like my servants to be in good spirits; but it certainly + did strike me that they were getting beyond reasonable limits. I + questioned my maid, and was informed that the noise was all due to the + jokes of the strangest old man that ever was seen. In other words, to the + person whom my steward had taken it on himself to engage in the page’s + absence. I spoke to Moody on the subject. He answered in an odd, confused + way, that he had exercised his discretion to the best of his judgment and + that (if I wished it), he would tell the old man to keep his good spirits + under better control. I asked him how he came to hear of the man. He only + answered, ‘By accident, my Lady’—and not one more word could I get + out of him, good or bad. Moody engages the servants, as you know; but on + every other occasion he has invariably consulted me before an engagement + was settled. I really don’t feel at all sure about this person who has + been so strangely introduced into the house—he may be a drunkard or + a thief. I wish you would speak to Moody yourself, Mr. Troy. Do you mind + ringing the bell?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Troy rose, as a matter of course, and rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + He was by this time, it is needless to say, convinced that Moody had not + only gone back to consult Old Sharon on his own responsibility, but worse + still, had taken the unwarrantable liberty of introducing him, as a spy, + into the house. To communicate this explanation to Lady Lydiard would, in + her present humor, be simply to produce the dismissal of the steward from + her service. The only other alternative was to ask leave to interrogate + Moody privately, and, after duly reproving him, to insist on the departure + of Old Sharon as the one condition on which Mr. Troy would consent to keep + Lady Lydiard in ignorance of the truth. + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall manage better with Moody, if your Ladyship will permit me + to see him in private,” the lawyer said. “Shall I go downstairs and speak + with him in his own room?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you trouble yourself to do that?” said her Ladyship. “See him + here; and I will go into the boudoir.” + </p> + <p> + As she made that reply, the footman appeared at the drawing-room door. + </p> + <p> + “Send Moody here,” said Lady Lydiard. + </p> + <p> + The footman’s answer, delivered at that moment, assumed an importance + which was not expressed in the footman’s words. “My Lady,” he said, “Mr. + Moody has gone out.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <p> + WHILE the strange proceedings of the steward were the subject of + conversation between Lady Lydiard and Mr. Troy, Moody was alone in his + room, occupied in writing to Isabel. Being unwilling that any eyes but his + own should see the address, he had himself posted his letter; the time + that he had chosen for leaving the house proving, unfortunately, to be + also the time proposed by her Ladyship for his interview with the lawyer. + In ten minutes after the footman had reported his absence, Moody returned. + It was then too late to present himself in the drawing-room. In the + interval, Mr. Troy had taken his leave, and Moody’s position had dropped a + degree lower in Lady Lydiard’s estimation. + </p> + <p> + Isabel received her letter by the next morning’s post. If any + justification of Mr. Troy’s suspicions had been needed, the terms in which + Moody wrote would have amply supplied it. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR ISABEL (I hope I may call you ‘Isabel’ without offending you, in + your present trouble?)—I have a proposal to make, which, whether you + accept it or not, I beg you will keep a secret from every living creature + but ourselves. You will understand my request, when I add that these lines + relate to the matter of tracing the stolen bank-note. + </p> + <p> + “I have been privately in communication with a person in London, who is, + as I believe, the one person competent to help us in gaining our end. He + has already made many inquiries in private. With some of them I am + acquainted; the rest he has thus far kept to himself. The person to whom I + allude, particularly wishes to have half an hour’s conversation with you + in my presence. I am bound to warn you that he is a very strange and very + ugly old man; and I can only hope that you will look over his personal + appearance in consideration of what he is likely to do for your future + advantage. + </p> + <p> + “Can you conveniently meet us, at the further end of the row of villas in + which your aunt lives, the day after to-morrow, at four o’clock? Let me + have a line to say if you will keep the appointment, and if the hour named + will suit you. And believe me your devoted friend and servant, + </p> + <p> + “ROBERT MOODY.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer’s warning to her to be careful how she yielded too readily to + any proposal of Moody’s recurred to Isabel’s mind while she read those + lines. Being pledged to secrecy, she could not consult Mr. Troy—she + was left to decide for herself. + </p> + <p> + No obstacle stood in the way of her free choice of alternatives. After + their early dinner at three o’clock, Miss Pink habitually retired to her + own room “to meditate,” as she expressed it. Her “meditations” inevitably + ended in a sound sleep of some hours; and during that interval Isabel was + at liberty to do as she pleased. After considerable hesitation, her + implicit belief in Moody’s truth and devotion, assisted by a strong + feeling of curiosity to see the companion with whom the steward had + associated himself, decided Isabel on consenting to keep the appointment. + </p> + <p> + Taking up her position beyond the houses, on the day and at the hour + mentioned by Moody, she believed herself to be fully prepared for the most + unfavorable impression which the most disagreeable of all possible + strangers could produce. + </p> + <p> + But the first appearance of Old Sharon—as dirty as ever, clothed in + a long, frowzy, gray overcoat, with his pug-dog at his heels, and his + smoke-blackened pipe in his mouth, with a tan white hat on his head, which + looked as if it had been picked up in a gutter, a hideous leer in his + eyes, and a jaunty trip in his walk—took her so completely by + surprise that she could only return Moody’s friendly greeting by silently + pressing his hand. As for Moody’s companion, to look at him for a second + time was more than she had resolution to do. She kept her eyes fixed on + the pug-dog, and with good reason; as far as appearances went, he was + indisputably the nobler animal of the two. + </p> + <p> + Under the circumstances, the interview threatened to begin in a very + embarrassing manner. Moody, disheartened by Isabel’s silence, made no + attempt to set the conversation going; he looked as if he meditated a + hasty retreat to the railway station which he had just left. Fortunately, + he had at his side the right man (for once) in the right place. Old + Sharon’s effrontery was equal to any emergency. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a nice-looking old man, my dear, am I?” he said, leering at + Isabel with cunning, half-closed eyes. “Bless your heart! you’ll soon get + used to me! You see, I am the sort of color, as they say at the + linen-drapers, that doesn’t wash well. It’s all through love; upon my life + it is! Early in the present century I had my young affections blighted; + and I’ve neglected myself ever since. Disappointment takes different + forms, miss, in different men. I don’t think I have had heart enough to + brush my hair for the last fifty years. She was a magnificent woman, Mr. + Moody, and she dropped me like a hot potato. Dreadful! dreadful! Let us + pursue this painful subject no further. Ha! here’s a pretty country! + Here’s a nice blue sky! I admire the country, miss; I see so little of it, + you know. Have you any objection to walk along into the fields? The + fields, my dear, bring out all the poetry of my nature. Where’s the dog? + Here, Puggy! Puggy! hunt about, my man, and find some dog-grass. Does his + inside good, you know, after a meat diet in London. Lord! how I feel my + spirits rising in this fine air! Does my complexion look any brighter, + miss? Will you run a race with me, Mr. Moody, or will you oblige me with a + back at leap-frog? I’m not mad, my dear young lady; I’m only merry. I + live, you see, in the London stink; and the smell of the hedges and the + wild flowers is too much for me at first. It gets into my head, it does. + I’m drunk! As I live by bread, I’m drunk on fresh air! Oh! what a jolly + day! Oh! how young and innocent I do feel!” Here his innocence got the + better of him, and he began to sing, “I wish I were a little fly, in my + love’s bosom for to lie!” “Hullo! here we are on the nice soft grass! and, + oh, my gracious! there’s a bank running down into a hollow! I can’t stand + that, you know. Mr. Moody, hold my hat, and take the greatest care of it. + Here goes for a roll down the bank!” + </p> + <p> + He handed his horrible hat to the astonished Moody, laid himself flat on + the top of the bank, and deliberately rolled down it, exactly as he might + have done when he was a boy. The tails of his long gray coat flew madly in + the wind: the dog pursued him, jumping over him, and barking with delight; + he shouted and screamed in answer to the dog as he rolled over and over + faster and faster; and, when he got up, on the level ground, and called + out cheerfully to his companions standing above him, “I say, you two, I + feel twenty years younger already!”—human gravity could hold out no + longer. The sad and silent Moody smiled, and Isabel burst into fits of + laughter. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said “didn’t I tell you you would get used to me, Miss? + There’s a deal of life left in the old man yet—isn’t there? Shy me + down my hat, Mr. Moody. And now we’ll get to business!” He turned round to + the dog still barking at his heels. “Business, Puggy!” he called out + sharply, and Puggy instantly shut up his mouth, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” Old Sharon resumed when he had joined his friends and had got + his breath again, “let’s have a little talk about yourself, miss. Has Mr. + Moody told you who I am, and what I want with you? Very good. May I offer + you my arm? No! You like to be independent, don’t you? All right—I + don’t object. I am an amiable old man, I am. About this Lady Lydiard, now? + Suppose you tell me how you first got acquainted with her?” + </p> + <p> + In some surprise at this question, Isabel told her little story. Observing + Sharon’s face while she was speaking, Moody saw that he was not paying the + smallest attention to the narrative. His sharp, shameless black eyes + watched the girl’s face absently; his gross lips curled upwards in a + sardonic and self-satisfied smile. He was evidently setting a trap for her + of some kind. Without a word of warning—while Isabel was in the + middle of a sentence—the trap opened, with the opening of Old + Sharon’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” he burst out. “How came <i>you</i> to seal her Ladyship’s letter—eh?” + </p> + <p> + The question bore no sort of relation, direct or indirect, to what Isabel + happened to be saying at the moment. In the sudden surprise of hearing it, + she started and fixed her eyes in astonishment on Sharon’s face. The old + vagabond chuckled to himself. “Did you see that?” he whispered to Moody. + “I beg your pardon, miss,” he went on; “I won’t interrupt you again. Lord! + how interesting it is!—ain’t it, Mr. Moody? Please to go on, miss.” + </p> + <p> + But Isabel, though she spoke with perfect sweetness and temper, declined + to go on. “I had better tell you, sir, how I came to seal her Ladyship’s + letter,” she said. “If I may venture on giving my opinion, <i>that</i> + part of my story seems to be the only part of it which relates to your + business with me to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Without further preface she described the circumstances which had led to + her assuming the perilous responsibility of sealing the letter. Old + Sharon’s wandering attention began to wander again: he was evidently + occupied in setting another trap. For the second time he interrupted + Isabel in the middle of a sentence. Suddenly stopping short, he pointed to + some sheep, at the further end of the field through which they happened to + be passing at the moment. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a pretty sight,” he said. “There are the innocent sheep a-feeding—all + following each other as usual. And there’s the sly dog waiting behind the + gate till the sheep wants his services. Reminds me of Old Sharon and the + public!” He chuckled over the discovery of the remarkable similarity + between the sheep-dog and himself, and the sheep and the public—and + then burst upon Isabel with a second question. “I say! didn’t you look at + the letter before you sealed it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” Isabel answered. + </p> + <p> + “Not even at the address?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking of something else—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “Was it your new bonnet, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel laughed. “Women are not always thinking of their new bonnets,” she + answered. + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon, to all appearance, dropped the subject there. He lifted his + lean brown forefinger and pointed again—this time to a house at a + short distance from them. “That’s a farmhouse, surely?” he said. “I’m + thirsty after my roll down the hill. Do you think, Miss, they would give + me a drink of milk?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure they would,” said Isabel. “I know the people. Shall I go and + ask them?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear. One word more before you go. About the sealing of + that letter? What <i>could</i> you have been thinking of while you were + doing it?” He looked hard at her, and took her suddenly by the arm. “Was + it your sweetheart?” he asked, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + The question instantly reminded Isabel that she had been thinking of + Hardyman while she sealed the letter. She blushed as the remembrance + crossed her mind. Robert, noticing the embarrassment, spoke sharply to Old + Sharon. “You have no right to put such a question to a young lady,” he + said. “Be a little more careful for the future.” + </p> + <p> + “There! there! don’t be hard on me,” pleaded the old rogue. “An ugly old + man like me may make his innocent little joke—eh, miss? I’m sure + you’re too sweet-tempered to be angry when I meant no offense.. Show me + that you bear no malice. Go, like a forgiving young angel, and ask for the + milk.” + </p> + <p> + Nobody appealed to Isabel’s sweetness of temper in vain. “I will do it + with pleasure,” she said—and hastened away to the farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + THE instant Isabel was out of hearing, Old Sharon slapped Moody on the + shoulder to rouse his attention. “I’ve got her out of the way,” he said, + “now listen to me. My business with the young angel is done—I may go + back to London.” + </p> + <p> + Moody looked at him with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Lord! how little you know of thieves!” exclaimed Old Sharon. “Why, man + alive, I have tried her with two plain tests! If you wanted a proof of her + innocence, there it was, as plain as the nose in your face. Did you hear + me ask her how she came to seal the letter—just when her mind was + running on something else?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard you,” said Moody. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see how she started and stared at me?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can tell you this—if she <i>had</i> stolen the money she + would neither have started nor stared. She would have had her answer ready + beforehand in her own mind, in case of accidents. There’s only one thing + in my experience that you can never do with a thief, when a thief happens + to be a woman—you can never take her by surprise. Put that remark by + in your mind; one day you may find a use for remembering it. Did you see + her blush, and look quite hurt in her feelings, pretty dear, when I asked + about her sweetheart? Do you think a thief, in her place, would have shown + such a face as that? Not she! The thief would have been relieved. The + thief would have said to herself, ‘All right! the more the old fool talks + about sweethearts the further he is from tracing the robbery to Me!’ Yes! + yes! the ground’s cleared now, Master Moody. I’ve reckoned up the + servants; I’ve questioned Miss Isabel; I’ve made my inquiries in all the + other quarters that may be useful to us—and what’s the result? The + advice I gave, when you and the lawyer first came to me—I hate that + fellow!—remains as sound and good advice as ever. I have got the + thief in my mind,” said Old Sharon, closing his cunning eyes and then + opening them again, “as plain as I’ve got you in my eye at this minute. No + more of that now,” he went on, looking round sharply at the path that led + to the farmhouse. “I’ve something particular to say to you—and + there’s barely time to say it before that nice girl comes back. Look here! + Do you happen to be acquainted with Mr.-Honorable-Hardyman’s valet?” + </p> + <p> + Moody’s eyes rested on Old Sharon with a searching and doubtful look. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hardyman’s valet?” he repeated. “I wasn’t prepared to hear Mr. + Hardyman’s name.” + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon looked at Moody, in his turn, with a flash of sardonic triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” he said. “Has my good boy learned his lesson? Do you see the thief + through my spectacles, already?” + </p> + <p> + “I began to see him,” Moody answered, “when you gave us the guinea opinion + at your lodgings.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you whisper his name?” asked Old Sharon. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. I distrust my own judgment. I wait till time proves that you are + right.” + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon knitted his shaggy brows and shook his head. “If you had only a + little more dash and go in you,” he said, “you would be a clever fellow. + As it is—!” He finished the sentence by snapping his fingers with a + grin of contempt. “Let’s get to business. Are you going back by the next + train along with me? or are you going to stop with the young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “I will follow you by a later train,” Moody answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then I must give you my instructions at once,” Sharon continued. “You get + better acquainted with Hardyman’s valet. Lend him money if he wants it—stick + at nothing to make a bosom friend of him. I can’t do that part of it; my + appearance would be against me. <i>You</i> are the man—you are + respectable from the top of your hat to the tips of your boots; nobody + would suspect You. Don’t make objections! Can you fix the valet? Or can’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can try,” said Moody. “And what then?” + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon put his gross lips disagreeably close to Moody’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend the valet can tell you who his master’s bankers are,” he + said; “and he can supply you with a specimen of his master’s handwriting.” + </p> + <p> + Moody drew back, as suddenly as if his vagabond companion had put a knife + to his throat. “You old villain!” he said. “Are you tempting me to + forgery?” + </p> + <p> + “You infernal fool!” retorted Old Sharon. “<i>Will</i> you hold that long + tongue of yours, and hear what I have to say. You go to Hardyman’s + bankers, with a note in Hardyman’s handwriting (exactly imitated by me) to + this effect:—‘Mr. H. presents his compliments to Messrs. So-and-So, + and is not quite certain whether a payment of five hundred pounds has been + made within the last week to his account. He will be much obliged if + Messrs. So-and-So will inform him by a line in reply, whether there is + such an entry to his credit in their books, and by whom the payment has + been made.’ You wait for the bankers’ answer, and bring it to me. It’s + just possible that the name you’re afraid to whisper may appear in the + letter. If it does, we’ve caught our man. Is <i>that</i> forgery, Mr. + Muddlehead Moody? I’ll tell you what—if I had lived to be your age, + and knew no more of the world than you do, I’d go and hang myself. Steady! + here’s our charming friend with the milk. Remember your instructions, and + don’t lose heart if my notion of the payment to the bankers comes to + nothing. I know what to do next, in that case—and, what’s more, I’ll + take all the risk and trouble on my own shoulders. Oh, Lord! I’m afraid I + shall be obliged to drink the milk, now it’s come!” + </p> + <p> + With this apprehension in his mind, he advanced to relieve Isabel of the + jug that she carried. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a treat!” he burst out, with an affectation of joy, which was + completely belied by the expression of his dirty face. “Here’s a kind and + dear young lady, to help an old man to a drink with her own pretty hands.” + He paused, and looked at the milk very much as he might have looked at a + dose of physic. “Will anyone take a drink first?” he asked, offering the + jug piteously to Isabel and Moody. “You see, I’m not wed to genuine milk; + I’m used to chalk and water. I don’t know what effect the unadulterated + cow might have on my poor old inside.” He tasted the milk with the + greatest caution. “Upon my soul, this is too rich for me! The + unadulterated cow is a deal too strong to be drunk alone. If you’ll allow + me I’ll qualify it with a drop of gin. Here, Puggy, Puggy!” He set the + milk down before the dog; and, taking a flask out of his pocket, emptied + it at a draught. “That’s something like!” he said, smacking his lips with + an air of infinite relief. “So sorry, Miss, to have given you all your + trouble for nothing; it’s my ignorance that’s to blame, not me. I couldn’t + know I was unworthy of genuine milk till I tried—could I? And do you + know,” he proceeded, with his eyes directed slyly on the way back to the + station, “I begin to think I’m not worthy of the fresh air, either. A kind + of longing seems to come over me for the London stink. I’m home-sick + already for the soot of my happy childhood and my own dear native mud. The + air here is too thin for me, and the sky’s too clean; and—oh, Lord!—when + you’re wed to the roar of the traffic—the ‘busses and the cabs and + what not—the silence in these parts is downright awful. I’ll wish + you good evening, miss; and get back to London.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel turned to Moody with disappointment plainly expressed in her face + and manner. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all he has to say?” she asked. “You told me he could help us. You + led me to suppose he could find the guilty person.” + </p> + <p> + Sharon heard her. “I could name the guilty person,” he answered, “as + easily, miss, as I could name you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you do it then?” Isabel inquired, not very patiently + </p> + <p> + “Because the time’s not ripe for it yet, miss—that’s one reason. + Because, if I mentioned the thief’s name, as things are now, you, Miss + Isabel, would think me mad; and you would tell Mr. Moody I had cheated him + out of his money—that’s another reason. The matter’s in train, if + you will only wait a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + “So you say,” Isabel rejoined. “If you really could name the thief, I + believe you would do it now.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away with a frown on her pretty face. Old Sharon followed her. + Even his coarse sensibilities appeared to feel the irresistible ascendancy + of beauty and youth. + </p> + <p> + “I say!” he began, “we must part friends, you know—or I shall break + my heart over it. They have got milk at the farmhouse. Do you think they + have got pen, ink, and paper too?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel answered, without turning to look at him, “Of course they have!” + </p> + <p> + “And a bit of sealing-wax?” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay!” + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon laid his dirty claws on her shoulder and forced her to face him + as the best means of shaking them off. + </p> + <p> + “Come along!” he said. “I am going to pacify you with some information in + writing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you write it?” Isabel asked suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “Because I mean to make my own conditions, my dear, before I let you into + the secret.” + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes more they were all three in the farmhouse parlor. Nobody + but the farmer’s wife was at home. The good woman trembled from head to + foot at the sight of Old Sharon. In all her harmless life she had never + yet seen humanity under the aspect in which it was now presented to her. + “Mercy preserve us, Miss!” she whispered to Isabel, “how come you to be in + such company as <i>that?</i>” Instructed by Isabel, she produced the + necessary materials for writing and sealing—and, that done, she + shrank away to the door. “Please to excuse me, miss,” she said with a last + horrified look at her venerable visitor; “I really can’t stand the sight + of such a blot of dirt as that in my nice clean parlor.” With those words + she disappeared, and was seen no more. + </p> + <p> + Perfectly indifferent to his reception, Old Sharon wrote, inclosed what he + had written in an envelope; and sealed it (in the absence of anything + better fitted for his purpose) with the mouthpiece of his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Now, miss,” he said, “you give me your word of honor,”—he stopped + and looked round at Moody with a grin—“and you give me yours, that + you won’t either of you break the seal on this envelope till the + expiration of one week from the present day. There are the conditions, + Miss Isabel, on which I’ll give you your information. If you stop to + dispute with me, the candle’s alight, and I’ll burn it!” + </p> + <p> + It was useless to contend with him. Isabel and Moody gave him the promise + that he required. He handed the sealed envelope to Isabel with a low bow. + “When the week’s out,” he said, “you will own I’m a cleverer fellow than + you think me now. Wish you good evening, Miss. Come along, Puggy! Farewell + to the horrid clean country, and back again to the nice London stink!” + </p> + <p> + He nodded to Moody—he leered at Isabel—he chuckled to himself—he + left the farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <p> + ISABEL looked down at the letter in her hand—considered it in + silence—and turned to Moody. “I feel tempted to open it already,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + “After giving your promise?” Moody gently remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + Isabel met that objection with a woman’s logic. + </p> + <p> + “Does a promise matter?” she asked, “when one gives it to a dirty, + disreputable, presuming old wretch like Mr. Sharon? It’s a wonder to me + that you trust such a creature. <i>I</i> wouldn’t!” + </p> + <p> + “I doubted him just as you do,” Moody answered, “when I first saw him in + company with Mr. Troy. But there was something in the advice he gave us at + that first consultation which altered my opinion of him for the better. I + dislike his appearance and his manners as much as you do—I may even + say I felt ashamed of bringing such a person to see you. And yet I can’t + think that I have acted unwisely in employing Mr. Sharon.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel listened absently. She had something more to say, and she was + considering how she should say it. “May I ask you a bold question?” she + began. + </p> + <p> + “Any question you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you—” she hesitated and looked embarrassed. “Have you paid Mr. + Sharon much money?” she resumed, suddenly rallying her courage. Instead of + answering, Moody suggested that it was time to think of returning to Miss + Pink’s villa. “Your aunt may be getting anxious about you.” he said. + </p> + <p> + Isabel led the way out of the farmhouse in silence. She reverted to Mr. + Sharon and the money, however, as they returned by the path across the + fields. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you will not be offended with me,” she said gently, “if I own + that I am uneasy about the expense. I am allowing you to use your purse as + if it was mine—and I have hardly any savings of my own.” + </p> + <p> + Moody entreated her not to speak of it. “How can I put my money to a + better use than in serving your interests?” he asked. “My one object in + life is to relieve you of your present anxieties. I shall be the happiest + man living if you only owe a moment’s happiness to my exertions!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel took his hand, and looked at him with grateful tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “How good you are to me, Mr. Moody!” she said. “I wish I could tell you + how deeply I feel your kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do it easily,” he answered, with a smile. “Call me ‘Robert’—don’t + call me ‘Mr. Moody.’” + </p> + <p> + She took his arm with a sudden familiarity that charmed him. “If you had + been my brother I should have called you ‘Robert,’” she said; “and no + brother could have been more devoted to me than you are.” + </p> + <p> + He looked eagerly at her bright face turned up to his. “May I never hope + to be something nearer and dearer to you than a brother?” he asked + timidly. + </p> + <p> + She hung her head and said nothing. Moody’s memory recalled Sharon’s + coarse reference to her “sweetheart.” She had blushed when he put the + question? What had she done when Moody put <i>his</i> question? Her face + answered for her—she had turned pale; she was looking more serious + than usual. Ignorant as he was of the ways of women, his instinct told him + that this was a bad sign. Surely her rising color would have confessed it, + if time and gratitude together were teaching her to love him? He sighed as + the inevitable conclusion forced itself on his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I have not offended you?” he said sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had not spoken. Pray don’t think that I am serving you with any + selfish motive.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think that, Robert. I never could think it of <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + He was not quite satisfied yet. “Even if you were to marry some other + man,” he went on earnestly, “it would make no difference in what I am + trying to do for you. No matter what I might suffer, I should still go on—for + your sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you talk so?” she burst out passionately. “No other man has such a + claim as you to my gratitude and regard. How can you let such thoughts + come to you? I have done nothing in secret. I have no friends who are not + known to you. Be satisfied with that, Robert—and let us drop the + subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Never to take it up again?” he asked, with the infatuated pertinacity of + a man clinging to his last hope. + </p> + <p> + At other times and under other circumstances, Isabel might have answered + him sharply. She spoke with perfect gentleness now. + </p> + <p> + “Not for the present,” she said. “I don’t know my own heart. Give me + time.” + </p> + <p> + His gratitude caught at those words, as the drowning man is said to catch + at the proverbial straw. He lifted her hand, and suddenly and fondly + pressed his lips on it. She showed no confusion. Was she sorry for him, + poor wretch!—and was that all? + </p> + <p> + They walked on, arm-in-arm, in silence. + </p> + <p> + Crossing the last field, they entered again on the high road leading to + the row of villas in which Miss Pink lived. The minds of both were + preoccupied. Neither of them noticed a gentleman approaching on horseback, + followed by a mounted groom. He was advancing slowly, at the walking-pace + of his horse, and he only observed the two foot-passengers when he was + close to them. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Isabel!” + </p> + <p> + She started, looked up, and discovered—Alfred Hardyman. + </p> + <p> + He was dressed in a perfectly-made travelling suit of light brown, with a + peaked felt hat of a darker shade of the same color, which, in a + picturesque sense, greatly improved his personal appearance. His pleasure + at discovering Isabel gave the animation to his features which they wanted + on ordinary occasions. He sat his horse, a superb hunter, easily and + gracefully. His light amber-colored gloves fitted him perfectly. His + obedient servant, on another magnificent horse, waited behind him. He + looked the impersonation of rank and breeding—of wealth and + prosperity. What a contrast, in a woman’s eyes, to the shy, pale, + melancholy man, in the ill-fitting black clothes, with the wandering, + uneasy glances, who stood beneath him, and felt, and showed that he felt, + his inferior position keenly! In spite of herself, the treacherous blush + flew over Isabel’s face, in Moody’s presence, and with Moody’s eyes + distrustfully watching her. + </p> + <p> + “This is a piece of good fortune that I hardly hoped for,” said Hardyman, + his cool, quiet, dreary way of speaking quickened as usual, in Isabel’s + presence. “I only got back from France this morning, and I called on Lady + Lydiard in the hope of seeing you. She was not at home—and you were + in the country—and the servants didn’t know the address. I could get + nothing out of them, except that you were on a visit to a relation.” He + looked at Moody while he was speaking. “Haven’t I seen you before?” he + said, carelessly. “Yes; at Lady Lydiard’s. You’re her steward, are you + not? How d’ye do?” Moody, with his eyes on the ground, answered silently + by a bow. Hardyman, perfectly indifferent whether Lady Lydiard’s steward + spoke or not, turned on his saddle and looked admiringly at Isabel. “I + begin to think I am a lucky man at last,” he went on with a smile. “I was + jogging along to my farm, and despairing of ever seeing Miss Isabel again—and + Miss Isabel herself meets me at the roadside! I wonder whether you are as + glad to see me as I am to see you? You won’t tell me—eh? May I ask + you something else? Are you staying in our neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + There was no alternative before Isabel but to answer this last question. + Hardyman had met her out walking, and had no doubt drawn the inevitable + inference—although he was too polite to say so in plain words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” she answered, shyly, “I am staying in this neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is your relation?” Hardyman proceeded, in his easy, + matter-of-course way. “Lady Lydiard told me, when I had the pleasure of + meeting you at her house, that you had an aunt living in the country. I + have a good memory, Miss Isabel, for anything that I hear about You! It’s + your aunt, isn’t it? Yes? I know everybody about hew. What is your aunt’s + name?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel, still resting her hand on Robert’s arm, felt it tremble a little + as Hardyman made this last inquiry. If she had been speaking to one of her + equals she would have known how to dispose of the question without + directly answering it. But what could she say to the magnificent gentleman + on the stately horse? He had only to send his servant into the village to + ask who the young lady from London was staying with, and the answer, in a + dozen mouths at least, would direct him to her aunt. She cast one + appealing look at Moody and pronounced the distinguished name of Miss + Pink. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Pink?” Hardyman repeated. “Surely I know Miss Pink?” (He had not the + faintest remembrances of her.) “Where did I meet her last?” (He ran over + in his memory the different local festivals at which strangers had been + introduced to him.) “Was it at the archery meeting? or at the + grammar-school when the prizes were given? No? It must have been at the + flower show, then, surely?” + </p> + <p> + It <i>had</i> been at the flower show. Isabel had heard it from Miss Pink + fifty times at least, and was obliged to admit it now. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite ashamed of never having called,” Hardyman proceeded. “The fact + is, I have so much to do. I am a bad one at paying visits. Are you on your + way home? Let me follow you and make my apologies personally to Miss + Pink.” + </p> + <p> + Moody looked at Isabel. It was only a momentary glance, but she perfectly + understood it. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, sir, my aunt cannot have the honor of seeing you to-day,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman was all compliance. He smiled and patted his horse’s neck. + “To-morrow, then,” he said. “My compliments, and I will call in the + afternoon. Let me see: Miss Pink lives at—?” He waited, as if he + expected Isabel to assist his treacherous memory once more. She hesitated + again. Hardyman looked round at his groom. The groom could find out the + address, even if he did not happen to know it already. Besides, there was + the little row of houses visible at the further end of the road. Isabel + pointed to the villas, as a necessary concession to good manners, before + the groom could anticipate her. “My aunt lives there, sir; at the house + called The Lawn.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! to be sure!” said Hardyman. “I oughtn’t to have wanted reminding; but + I have so many things to think of at the farm. And I am afraid I must be + getting old—my memory isn’t as good as it was. I am so glad to have + seen you, Miss Isabel. You and your aunt must come and look at my horses. + Do you like horses? Are you fond of riding? I have a quiet roan mare that + is used to carrying ladies; she would be just the thing for you. Did I beg + you to give my best compliments to your aunt? Yes? How well you are + looking! our air here agrees with you. I hope I haven’t kept you standing + too long? I didn’t think of it in the pleasure of meeting you. Good-by, + Miss Isabel; good-by, till to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + He took off his hat to Isabel, nodded to Moody, and pursued his way to the + farm. + </p> + <p> + Isabel looked at her companion. His eyes were still on the ground. Pale, + silent, motionless, he waited by her like a dog, until she gave the signal + of walking on again towards the house. + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry with me for speaking to Mr. Hardyman?” she asked, + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + He lifted his head it the sound of her voice. “Angry with you, my dear! + why should I be angry?” + </p> + <p> + “You seem so changed, Robert, since we met Mr. Hardyman. I couldn’t help + speaking to him—could I?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + They moved on towards the villa. Isabel was still uneasy. There was + something in Moody’s silent submission to all that she said and all that + she did which pained and humiliated her. “You’re not jealous?” she said, + smiling timidly. + </p> + <p> + He tried to speak lightly on his side. “I have no time to be jealous while + I have your affairs to look after,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She pressed his arm tenderly. “Never fear, Robert, that new friends will + make me forget the best and dearest friend who is now at my side.” She + paused, and looked up at him with a compassionate fondness that was very + pretty to see. “I can keep out of the way to-morrow, when Mr. Hardyman + calls,” she said. “It is my aunt he is coming to see—not me.” + </p> + <p> + It was generously meant. But while her mind was only occupied with the + present time, Moody’s mind was looking into the future. He was learning + the hard lesson of self-sacrifice already. “Do what you think is right,” + he said quietly; “don’t think of me.” + </p> + <p> + They reached the gate of the villa. He held out his hand to say good-by. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you come in?” she asked. “Do come in!” + </p> + <p> + “Not now, my dear. I must get back to London as soon as I can. There is + some more work to be done for you, and the sooner I do it the better.” + </p> + <p> + She heard his excuse without heeding it. + </p> + <p> + “You are not like yourself, Robert,” she said. “Why is it? What are you + thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + He was thinking of the bright blush that overspread her face when Hardyman + first spoke to her; he was thinking of the invitation to her to see the + stud-farm, and to ride the roan mare; he was thinking of the utterly + powerless position in which he stood towards Isabel and towards the + highly-born gentleman who admired her. But he kept his doubts and fears to + himself. “The train won’t wait for me,” he said, and held out his hand + once more. + </p> + <p> + She was not only perplexed; she was really distressed. “Don’t take leave + of me in that cold way!” she pleaded. Her eyes dropped before his, and her + lips trembled a little. “Give me a kiss, Robert, at parting.” She said + those bold words softly and sadly, out of the depth of her pity for him. + He started; his face brightened suddenly; his sinking hope rose again. In + another moment the change came; in another moment he understood her. As he + touched her cheek with his lips, he turned pale again. “Don’t quite forget + me,” he said, in low, faltering tones—and left her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink met Isabel in the hall. Refreshed by unbroken repose, the + ex-schoolmistress was in the happiest frame of mind for the reception of + her niece’s news. + </p> + <p> + Informed that Moody had travelled to South Morden to personally report the + progress of the inquiries, Miss Pink highly approved of him as a + substitute for Mr. Troy. “Mr. Moody, as a banker’s son, is a gentleman by + birth,” she remarked; “he has condescended, in becoming Lady Lydiard’s + steward. What I saw of him, when he came here with you, prepossessed me in + his favor. He has my confidence, Isabel, as well as yours—he is in + every respect a superior person to Mr. Troy. Did you meet any friends, my + dear, when you were out walking?” + </p> + <p> + The answer to this question produced a species of transformation in Miss + Pink. The rapturous rank-worship of her nation feasted, so to speak, on + Hardyman’s message. She looked taller and younger than usual—she was + all smiles and sweetness. “At last, Isabel, you have seen birth and + breeding under their right aspect,” she said. “In the society of Lady + Lydiard, you cannot possibly have formed correct ideas of the English + aristocracy. Observe Mr. Hardyman when he does me the honor to call + to-morrow—and you will see the difference.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hardyman is your visitor, aunt—not mine. I was going to ask you + to let me remain upstairs in my room.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink was unaffectedly shocked. “This is what you learn at Lady + Lydiard’s!” she observed. “No, Isabel, your absence would be a breach of + good manners—I cannot possibly permit it. You will be present to + receive our distinguished friend with me. And mind this!” added Miss Pink, + in her most impressive manner, “If Mr. Hardyman should by any chance ask + why you have left Lady Lydiard, not one word about those disgraceful + circumstances which connect you with the loss of the banknote! I should + sink into the earth if the smallest hint of what has really happened + should reach Mr. Hardyman’s ears. My child, I stand towards you in the + place of your lamented mother; I have the right to command your silence on + this horrible subject, and I do imperatively command it.” + </p> + <p> + In these words foolish Miss Pink sowed the seed for the harvest of trouble + that was soon to come. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <p> + PAYING his court to the ex-schoolmistress on the next day, Hardyman made + such excellent use of his opportunities that the visit to the stud-farm + took place on the day after. His own carriage was placed at the disposal + of Isabel and her aunt; and his own sister was present to confer special + distinction on the reception of Miss Pink. + </p> + <p> + In a country like England, which annually suspends the sitting of its + Legislature in honor of a horse-race, it is only natural and proper that + the comfort of the horses should be the first object of consideration at a + stud-farm. Nine-tenths of the land at Hardyman’s farm was devoted, in one + way or another, to the noble quadruped with the low forehead and the long + nose. Poor humanity was satisfied with second-rate and third-rate + accommodation. The ornamental grounds, very poorly laid out, were also + very limited in extent—and, as for the dwelling-house, it was + literally a cottage. A parlor and a kitchen, a smoking-room, a bed-room, + and a spare chamber for a friend, all scantily furnished, sufficed for the + modest wants of the owner of the property. If you wished to feast your + eyes on luxury you went to the stables. + </p> + <p> + The stud-farm being described, the introduction to Hardyman’s sister + follows in due course. + </p> + <p> + The Honorable Lavinia Hardyman was, as all persons in society know, + married rather late in life to General Drumblade. It is saying a great + deal, but it is not saying too much, to describe Mrs. Drumblade as the + most mischievous woman of her age in all England. Scandal was the breath + of her life; to place people in false positions, to divulge secrets and + destroy characters, to undermine friendships, and aggravate enmities—these + were the sources of enjoyment from which this dangerous woman drew the + inexhaustible fund of good spirits that made her a brilliant light in the + social sphere. She was one of the privileged sinners of modern society. + The worst mischief that she could work was ascribed to her “exuberant + vitality.” She had that ready familiarity of manner which is (in <i>her</i> + class) so rarely discovered to be insolence in disguise. Her power of easy + self-assertion found people ready to accept her on her own terms wherever + she went. She was one of those big, overpowering women, with blunt + manners, voluble tongues, and goggle eyes, who carry everything before + them. The highest society modestly considered itself in danger of being + dull in the absence of Mrs. Drumblade. Even Hardyman himself—who saw + as little of her as possible, whose frankly straightforward nature + recoiled by instinct from contact with his sister—could think of no + fitter person to make Miss Pink’s reception agreeable to her, while he was + devoting his own attentions to her niece. Mrs. Drumblade accepted the + position thus offered with the most amiable readiness. In her own private + mind she placed an interpretation on her brother’s motives which did him + the grossest injustice. She believed that Hardyman’s designs on Isabel + contemplated the most profligate result. To assist this purpose, while the + girl’s nearest relative was supposed to be taking care of her, was Mrs. + Drumblade’s idea of “fun.” Her worst enemies admitted that the honorable + Lavinia had redeeming qualities, and owned that a keen sense of humor was + one of her merits. + </p> + <p> + Was Miss Pink a likely person to resist the fascinations of Mrs. + Drumblade? Alas, for the ex-schoolmistress! before she had been five + minutes at the farm, Hardyman’s sister had fished for her, caught her, + landed her. Poor Miss Pink! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Drumblade could assume a grave dignity of manner when the occasion + called for it. She was grave, she was dignified, when Hardyman performed + the ceremonies of introduction. She would not say she was charmed to meet + Miss Pink—the ordinary slang of society was not for Miss Pink’s ears—she + would say she felt this introduction as a privilege. It was so seldom one + met with persons of trained intellect in society. Mrs. Drumblade was + already informed of Miss Pink’s earlier triumphs in the instruction of + youth. Mrs. Drumblade had not been blessed with children herself; but she + had nephews and nieces, and she was anxious about their education, + especially the nieces. What a sweet, modest girl Miss Isabel was! The + fondest wish she could form for her nieces would be that they should + resemble Miss Isabel when they grew up. The question was, as to the best + method of education. She would own that she had selfish motives in + becoming acquainted with Miss Pink. They were at the farm, no doubt, to + see Alfred’s horses. Mrs. Drumblade did not understand horses; her + interest was in the question of education. She might even confess that she + had accepted Alfred’s invitation in the hope of hearing Miss Pink’s views. + There would be opportunities, she trusted, for a little instructive + conversation on that subject. It was, perhaps, ridiculous to talk, at her + age, of feeling as if she was Miss Pink’s pupil; and yet it exactly + expressed the nature of the aspiration which was then in her mind. + </p> + <p> + In these terms, feeling her way with the utmost nicety, Mrs. Drumblade + wound the net of flattery round and round Miss Pink until her hold on that + innocent lady was, in every sense of the word, secure. Before half the + horses had been passed under review, Hardyman and Isabel were out of + sight, and Mrs. Drumblade and Miss Pink were lost in the intricacies of + the stables. “Excessively stupid of me! We had better go back, and + establish ourselves comfortably in the parlor. When my brother misses us, + he and your charming niece will return to look for us in the cottage.” + Under cover of this arrangement the separation became complete. Miss Pink + held forth on education to Mrs. Drumblade in the parlor; while Hardyman + and Isabel were on their way to a paddock at the farthest limits of the + property. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you are getting a little tired,” said Hardyman. “Won’t you + take my arm?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel was on her guard: she had not forgotten what Lady Lydiard had said + to her. “No, thank you, Mr. Hardyman; I am a better walker than you + think.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman continued the conversation in his blunt, resolute way. “I wonder + whether you will believe me,” he asked, “if I tell you that this is one of + the happiest days of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you were always happy,” Isabel cautiously replied, “having + such a pretty place to live in as this.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman met that answer with one of his quietly-positive denials. “A man + is never happy by himself,” he said. “He is happy with a companion. For + instance, I am happy with you.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel stopped and looked back. Hardyman’s language was becoming a little + too explicit. “Surely we have lost Mrs. Drumblade and my aunt,” she said. + “I don’t see them anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “You will see them directly; they are only a long way behind.” With this + assurance, he returned, in his own obstinate way, to his one object in + view. “Miss Isabel, I want to ask you a question. I’m not a ladies’ man. I + speak my mind plainly to everybody—women included. Do you like being + here to-day?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel’s gravity was not proof against this very downright question. “I + should be hard to please,” she said laughing, “if I didn’t enjoy my visit + to the farm.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman pushed steadily forward through the obstacle of the farm to the + question of the farm’s master. “You like being here,” he repeated. “Do you + like Me?” + </p> + <p> + This was serious. Isabel drew back a little, and looked at him. He waited + with the most impenetrable gravity for her reply. + </p> + <p> + “I think you can hardly expect me to answer that question,” she said + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Our acquaintance has been a very short one, Mr. Hardyman. And, if <i>you</i> + are so good as to forget the difference between us, I think <i>I</i> ought + to remember it.” + </p> + <p> + “What difference?” + </p> + <p> + “The difference in rank.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman suddenly stood still, and emphasized his next words by digging + his stick into the grass. + </p> + <p> + “If anything I have said has vexed you,” he began, “tell me so plainly, + Miss Isabel, and I’ll ask your pardon. But don’t throw my rank in my face. + I cut adrift from all that nonsense when I took this farm and got my + living out of the horses. What has a man’s rank to do with a man’s + feelings?” he went on, with another emphatic dig of his stick. “I am quite + serious in asking if you like me—for this good reason, that I like + you. Yes, I do. You remember that day when I bled the old lady’s dog—well, + I have found out since then that there’s a sort of incompleteness in my + life which I never suspected before. It’s you who have put that idea into + my head. You didn’t mean it, I dare say, but you have done it all the + same. I sat alone here yesterday evening smoking my pipe—and I + didn’t enjoy it. I breakfasted alone this morning—and I didn’t enjoy + <i>that</i>. I said to myself, She’s coming to lunch, that’s one comfort—I + shall enjoy lunch. That’s what I feel, roughly described. I don’t suppose + I’ve been five minutes together without thinking of you, now in one way + and now in another, since the day when I first saw you. When a man comes + to my time of life, and has had any experience, he knows what that means. + It means, in plain English, that his heart is set on a woman. You’re the + woman.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel had thus far made several attempts to interrupt him, without + success. But, when Hardyman’s confession attained its culminating point, + she insisted on being heard. + </p> + <p> + “If you will excuse me, sir,” she interposed gravely, “I think I had + better go back to the cottage. My aunt is a stranger here, and she doesn’t + know where to look for us.” + </p> + <p> + “We don’t want your aunt,” Hardyman remarked, in his most positive manner. + </p> + <p> + “We do want her,” Isabel rejoined. “I won’t venture to say it’s wrong in + you, Mr. Hardyman, to talk to me as you have just done, but I am quite + sure it’s very wrong of me to listen.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with such unaffected surprise and distress that she + stopped, on the point of leaving him, and tried to make herself better + understood. + </p> + <p> + “I had no intention of offending you, sir,” she said, a little confusedly. + “I only wanted to remind you that there are some things which a gentleman + in your position—” She stopped, tried to finish the sentence, + failed, and began another. “If I had been a young lady in your own rank of + life,” she went on, “I might have thanked you for paying me a compliment, + and have given you a serious answer. As it is, I am afraid that I must say + that you have surprised and disappointed me. I can claim very little for + myself, I know. But I did imagine—so long as there was nothing + unbecoming in my conduct—that I had some right to your respect.” + </p> + <p> + Listening more and more impatiently, Hardyman took her by the hand, and + burst out with another of his abrupt questions. + </p> + <p> + “What can you possibly be thinking of?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She gave him no answer; she only looked at him reproachfully, and tried to + release herself. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman held her hand faster than ever. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you think me an infernal scoundrel!” he said. “I can stand a + good deal, Miss Isabel, but I can’t stand <i>that</i>. How have I failed + in respect toward you, if you please? I have told you you’re the woman my + heart is set on. Well? Isn’t it plain what I want of you, when I say that? + Isabel Miller, I want you to be my wife!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel’s only reply to this extraordinary proposal of marriage was a faint + cry of astonishment, followed by a sudden trembling that shook her from + head to foot. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman put his arm round her with a gentleness which his oldest friend + would have been surprised to see in him. + </p> + <p> + “Take your time to think of it,” he said, dropping back again into his + usual quiet tone. “If you had known me a little better you wouldn’t have + mistaken me, and you wouldn’t be looking at me now as if you were afraid + to believe your own ears. What is there so very wonderful in my wanting to + marry you? I don’t set up for being a saint. When I was a younger man I + was no better (and no worse) than other young men. I’m getting on now to + middle life. I don’t want romances and adventures—I want an easy + existence with a nice lovable woman who will make me a good wife. You’re + the woman, I tell you again. I know it by what I’ve seen of you myself, + and by what I have heard of you from Lady Lydiard. She said you were + prudent, and sweet-tempered, and affectionate; to which I wish to add that + you have just the face and figure that I like, and the modest manners and + the blessed absence of all slang in your talk, which I don’t find in the + young women I meet with in the present day. That’s my view of it: I think + for myself. What does it matter to me whether you’re the daughter of a + Duke or the daughter of a Dairyman? It isn’t your father I want to marry—it’s + you. Listen to reason, there’s a dear! We have only one question to settle + before we go back to your aunt. You wouldn’t answer me when I asked it a + little while since. Will you answer now? <i>Do</i> you like me?” + </p> + <p> + Isabel looked up at him timidly. + </p> + <p> + “In my position, sir,” she asked, “have I any right to like you? What + would your relations and friends think, if I said Yes?” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman gave her waist a little admonitory squeeze with his arm + </p> + <p> + “What? You’re at it again? A nice way to answer a man, to call him ‘Sir,’ + and to get behind his rank as if it was a place of refuge from him! I hate + talking of myself, but you force me to it. Here is my position in the + world—I have got an elder brother; he is married, and he has a son + to succeed him, in the title and the property. You understand, so far? + Very well! Years ago I shifted my share of the rank (whatever it may be) + on to my brother’s shoulders. He is a thorough good fellow, and he has + carried my dignity for me, without once dropping it, ever since. As for + what people may say, they have said it already, from my father and mother + downward, in the time when I took to the horses and the farm. If they’re + the wise people I take them for, they won’t be at the trouble of saying it + all over again. No, no. Twist it how you may, Miss Isabel, whether I’m + single or whether I’m married, I’m plain Alfred Hardyman; and everybody + who knows me knows that I go on my way, and please myself. If you don’t + like me, it will be the bitterest disappointment I ever had in my life; + but say so honestly, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + Where is the woman in Isabel’s place whose capacity for resistance would + not have yielded a little to such an appeal as this? + </p> + <p> + “I should be an insensible wretch,” she replied warmly, “if I didn’t feel + the honor you have done me, and feel it gratefully.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that mean you will have me for a husband?” asked downright Hardyman. + </p> + <p> + She was fairly driven into a corner; but (being a woman) she tried to slip + through his fingers at the last moment. + </p> + <p> + “Will you forgive me,” she said, “if I ask you for a little more time? I + am so bewildered, I hardly know what to say or do for the best. You see, + Mr. Hardyman, it would be a dreadful thing for me to be the cause of + giving offense to your family. I am obliged to think of that. It would be + so distressing for you (I will say nothing of myself) if your friends + closed their doors on me. They might say I was a designing girl, who had + taken advantage of your good opinion to raise herself in the world. Lady + Lydiard warned me long since not to be ambitious about myself and not to + forget my station in life, because she treated me like her adopted + daughter. Indeed—indeed, I can’t tell you how I feel your goodness, + and the compliment—the very great compliment, you pay me! My heart + is free, and if I followed my own inclinations—” She checked + herself, conscious that she was on the brink of saying too much. “Will you + give me a few days,” she pleaded, “to try if I can think composedly of all + this? I am only a girl, and I feel quite dazzled by the prospect that you + set before me.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman seized on those words as offering all the encouragement that he + desired to his suit. + </p> + <p> + “Have your own way in this thing and in everything!” he said, with an + unaccustomed fervor of language and manner. “I am so glad to hear that + your heart is open to me, and that all your inclinations take my part.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel instantly protested against this misrepresentation of what she had + really said, “Oh, Mr. Hardyman, you quite mistake me!” + </p> + <p> + He answered her very much as he had answered Lady Lydiard, when she had + tried to make him understand his proper relations towards Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I don’t mistake you. I agree to every word you say. How can I + expect you to marry me, as you very properly remark, unless I give you a + day or two to make up your mind? It’s quite enough for me that you like + the prospect. If Lady Lydiard treated you as her daughter, why shouldn’t + you be my wife? It stands to reason that you’re quite right to marry a man + who can raise you in the world. I like you to be ambitious—though + Heaven knows it isn’t much I can do for you, except to love you with all + my heart. Still, it’s a great encouragement to hear that her Ladyship’s + views agree with mine—” + </p> + <p> + “They don’t agree, Mr. Hardyman!” protested poor Isabel. “You are entirely + misrepresenting—” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman cordially concurred in this view of the matter. “Yes! yes! I + can’t pretend to represent her Ladyship’s language, or yours either; I am + obliged to take my words as they come to me. Don’t disturb yourself: it’s + all right—I understand. You have made me the happiest man living. I + shall ride over to-morrow to your aunt’s house, and hear what you have to + say to me. Mind you’re at home! Not a day must pass now without my seeing + you. I do love you, Isabel—I do, indeed!” He stooped, and kissed her + heartily. “Only to reward me,” he explained, “for giving you time to + think.” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself away from him—resolutely, not angrily. Before she + could make a third attempt to place the subject in its right light before + him, the luncheon bell rang at the cottage—and a servant appeared + evidently sent to look for them. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t forget to-morrow,” Hardyman whispered confidentially. “I’ll call + early—and then go to London, and get the ring.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <p> + EVENTS succeeded each other rapidly, after the memorable day to Isabel of + the luncheon at the farm. + </p> + <p> + On the next day (the ninth of the month) Lady Lydiard sent for her + steward, and requested him to explain his conduct in repeatedly leaving + the house without assigning any reason for his absence. She did not + dispute his claims to a freedom of action which would not be permitted to + an ordinary servant. Her objection to his present course of proceeding + related entirely to the mystery in which it was involved, and to the + uncertainty in which the household was left as to the hour of his return. + On those grounds, she thought herself entitled to an explanation. Moody’s + habitual reserve—strengthened, on this occasion, by his dread of + ridicule, if his efforts to serve Isabel ended in failure—disinclined + him to take Lady Lydiard into his confidence, while his inquiries were + still beset with obstacles and doubts. He respectfully entreated her + Ladyship to grant him a delay of a few weeks before he entered on his + explanation. Lady Lydiard’s quick temper resented his request. She told + Moody plainly that he was guilty of an act of presumption in making his + own conditions with his employer. He received the reproof with exemplary + resignation; but he held to his conditions nevertheless. From that moment + the result of the interview was no longer in doubt. Moody was directed to + send in his accounts. The accounts having been examined, and found to be + scrupulously correct, he declined accepting the balance of salary that was + offered to him. The next day he left Lady Lydiard’s service. + </p> + <p> + On the tenth of the month her Ladyship received a letter from her nephew. + </p> + <p> + The health of Felix had not improved. He had made up his mind to go abroad + again towards the end of the month. In the meantime, he had written to his + friend in Paris, and he had the pleasure of forwarding an answer. The + letter inclosed announced that the lost five-hundred-pound note had been + made the subject of careful inquiry in Paris. It had not been traced. The + French police offered to send to London one of their best men, well + acquainted with the English language, if Lady Lydiard was desirous of + employing him. He would be perfectly willing to act with an English + officer in conducting the investigation, should it be thought necessary. + Mr. Troy being consulted as to the expediency of accepting this proposal, + objected to the pecuniary terms demanded as being extravagantly high. He + suggested waiting a little before any reply was sent to Paris; and he + engaged meanwhile to consult a London solicitor who had great experience + in cases of theft, and whose advice might enable them to dispense entirely + with the services of the French police. + </p> + <p> + Being now a free man again, Moody was able to follow his own inclinations + in regard to the instructions which he had received from Old Sharon. + </p> + <p> + The course that had been recommended to him was repellent to the + self-respect and the sense of delicacy which were among the inbred virtues + of Moody’s character. He shrank from forcing himself as a friend on + Hardyman’s valet: he recoiled from the idea of tempting the man to steal a + specimen of his master’s handwriting. After some consideration, he decided + on applying to the agent who collected the rents at Hardyman’s London + chambers. Being an old acquaintance of Moody’s, this person would + certainly not hesitate to communicate the address of Hardyman’s bankers, + if he knew it. The experiment, tried under these favoring circumstances, + proved perfectly successful. Moody proceeded to Sharon’s lodgings the same + day, with the address of the bankers in his pocketbook. The old vagabond, + greatly amused by Moody’s scruples, saw plainly enough that, so long as he + wrote the supposed letter from Hardyman in the third person, it mattered + little what handwriting was employed, seeing that no signature would be + necessary. The letter was at once composed, on the model which Sharon had + already suggested to Moody, and a respectable messenger (so far as outward + appearances went) was employed to take it to the bank. In half an hour the + answer came back. It added one more to the difficulties which beset the + inquiry after the lost money. No such sum as five hundred pounds had been + paid, within the dates mentioned, to the credit of Hardyman’s account. + </p> + <p> + Old Sharon was not in the least discomposed by this fresh check. “Give my + love to the dear young lady,” he said with his customary impudence; “and + tell her we are one degree nearer to finding the thief.” + </p> + <p> + Moody looked at him, doubting whether he was in jest or in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “Must I squeeze a little more information into that thick head of yours?” + asked Sharon. With this question he produced a weekly newspaper, and + pointed to a paragraph which reported, among the items of sporting news, + Hardyman’s recent visit to a sale of horses at a town in the north of + France. “We know he didn’t pay the bank-note in to his account,” Sharon + remarked. “What else did he do with it? Took it to pay for the horses that + he bought in France! Do you see your way a little plainer now? Very good. + Let’s try next if your money holds out. Somebody must cross the Channel in + search of the note. Which of us two is to sit in the steam-boat with a + white basin on his lap? Old Sharon, of course!” He stopped to count the + money still left, out of the sum deposited by Moody to defray the cost of + the inquiry. “All right!” he went on. “I’ve got enough to pay my expenses + there and back. Don’t stir out of London till you hear from me. I can’t + tell how soon I may not want you. If there’s any difficulty in tracing the + note, your hand will have to go into your pocket again. Can’t you get the + lawyer to join you? Lord! how I should enjoy squandering <i>his</i> money! + It’s a downright disgrace to me to have only got one guinea out of him. I + could tear my flesh off my bones when I think of it.” + </p> + <p> + The same night Old Sharon started for France, by way of Dover and Calais. + </p> + <p> + Two days elapsed, and brought no news from Moody’s agent. On the third + day, he received some information relating to Sharon—not from the + man himself, but in a letter from Isabel Miller. + </p> + <p> + “For once, dear Robert,” she wrote, “my judgment has turned out to be + sounder than yours. That hateful old man has confirmed my worst opinion of + him. Pray have him punished. Take him before a magistrate and charge him + with cheating you out of your money. I inclose the sealed letter which he + gave me at the farmhouse. The week’s time before I was to open it expired + yesterday. Was there ever anything so impudent and so inhuman? I am too + vexed and angry about the money you have wasted on this old wretch to + write more. Yours, gratefully and affectionately, Isabel.” + </p> + <p> + The letter in which Old Sharon had undertaken (by way of pacifying Isabel) + to write the name of the thief, contained these lines: + </p> + <p> + “You are a charming girl, my dear; but you still want one thing to make + you perfect—and that is a lesson in patience. I am proud and happy + to teach you. The name of the thief remains, for the present, Mr. —— + (Blank).” + </p> + <p> + From Moody’s point of view, there was but one thing to be said of this: it + was just like Old Sharon! Isabel’s letter was of infinitely greater + interest to him. He feasted his eyes on the words above the signature: she + signed herself, “Yours gratefully and affectionately.” Did the last words + mean that she was really beginning to be fond of him? After kissing the + word, he wrote a comforting letter to her, in which he pledged himself to + keep a watchful eye on Sharon, and to trust him with no more money until + he had honestly earned it first. + </p> + <p> + A week passed. Moody (longing to see Isabel) still waited in vain for news + from France. He had just decided to delay his visit to South Morden no + longer, when the errand-boy employed by Sharon brought him this message: + “The old ‘un’s at home, and waitin’ to see yer.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + SHARON’S news was not of an encouraging character. He had met with serious + difficulties, and had spent the last farthing of Moody’s money in + attempting to overcome them. + </p> + <p> + One discovery of importance he had certainly made. A horse withdrawn from + the sale was the only horse that had met with Hardyman’s approval. He had + secured the animal at the high reserved price of twelve thousand francs—being + four hundred and eighty pounds in English money; and he had paid with an + English bank-note. The seller (a French horse-dealer resident in Brussels) + had returned to Belgium immediately on completing the negotiations. Sharon + had ascertained his address, and had written to him at Brussels, inclosing + the number of the lost banknote. In two days he had received an answer, + informing him that the horse-dealer had been called to England by the + illness of a relative, and that he had hitherto failed to send any address + to which his letters could be forwarded. Hearing this, and having + exhausted his funds, Sharon had returned to London. It now rested with + Moody to decide whether the course of the inquiry should follow the + horse-dealer next. Here was the cash account, showing how the money had + been spent. And there was Sharon, with his pipe in his mouth and his dog + on his lap, waiting for orders. + </p> + <p> + Moody wisely took time to consider before he committed himself to a + decision. In the meanwhile, he ventured to recommend a new course of + proceeding which Sharon’s report had suggested to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” he said, “that we have taken the roundabout way of + getting to our end in view, when the straight road lay before us. If Mr. + Hardyman has passed the stolen note, you know, as well as I do, that he + has passed it innocently. Instead of wasting time and money in trying to + trace a stranger, why not tell Mr. Hardyman what has happened, and ask him + to give us the number of the note? You can’t think of everything, I know; + but it does seem strange that this idea didn’t occur to you before you + went to France.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moody,” said Old Sharon, “I shall have to cut your acquaintance. You + are a man without faith; I don’t like you. As if I hadn’t thought of + Hardyman weeks since!” he exclaimed contemptuously. “Are you really soft + enough to suppose that a gentleman in his position would talk about his + money affairs to me? You know mighty little of him if you do. A fortnight + since I sent one of my men (most respectably dressed) to hang about his + farm, and see what information he could pick up. My man became painfully + acquainted with the toe of a boot. It was thick, sir; and it was + Hardyman’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I will run the risk of the boot,” Moody replied, in his quiet way. + </p> + <p> + “And put the question to Hardyman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Sharon. “If you get your answer from his tongue, instead + of his boot, the case is cleared up—unless I have made a complete + mess of it. Look here, Moody! If you want to do me a good turn, tell the + lawyer that the guinea-opinion was the right one. Let him know that <i>he</i> + was the fool, not you, when he buttoned up his pockets and refused to + trust me. And, I say,” pursued Old Sharon, relapsing into his customary + impudence, “you’re in love, you know, with that nice girl. I like her + myself. When you marry her invite me to the wedding. I’ll make a + sacrifice; I’ll brush my hair and wash my face in honor of the occasion.” + </p> + <p> + Returning to his lodgings, Moody found two letters waiting on the table. + One of them bore the South Morden postmark. He opened that letter first. + </p> + <p> + It was written by Miss Pink. The first lines contained an urgent entreaty + to keep the circumstances connected with the loss of the five hundred + pounds the strictest secret from everyone in general, and from Hardyman in + particular. The reasons assigned for making the strange request were next + expressed in these terms: “My niece Isabel is, I am happy to inform you, + engaged to be married to Mr. Hardyman. If the slightest hint reached him + of her having been associated, no matter how cruelly and unjustly, with a + suspicion of theft, the marriage would be broken off, and the result to + herself and to everybody connected with her, would be disgrace for the + rest of our lives.” + </p> + <p> + On the blank space at the foot of the page a few words were added in + Isabel’s writing: “Whatever changes there may be in my life, your place in + my heart is one that no other person can fill: it is the place of my + dearest friend. Pray write and tell me that you are not distressed and not + angry. My one anxiety is that you should remember what I have always told + you about the state of my own feelings. My one wish is that you will still + let me love you and value you, as I might have loved and valued a + brother.” + </p> + <p> + The letter dropped from Moody’s hand. Not a word—not even a sigh—passed + his lips. In tearless silence he submitted to the pang that wrung him. In + tearless silence he contemplated the wreck of his life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <p> + THE narrative returns to South Morden, and follows the events which + attended Isabel’s marriage engagement. + </p> + <p> + To say that Miss Pink, inflated by the triumph, rose, morally speaking, + from the earth and floated among the clouds, is to indicate faintly the + effect produced on the ex-schoolmistress when her niece first informed her + of what had happened at the farm. Attacked on one side by her aunt, and on + the other by Hardyman, and feebly defended, at the best, by her own doubts + and misgivings, Isabel ended by surrendering at discretion. Like thousands + of other women in a similar position, she was in the last degree uncertain + as to the state of her own heart. To what extent she was insensibly + influenced by Hardyman’s commanding position in believing herself to be + sincerely attached to him, it was beyond her power of self-examination to + discover. He doubly dazzled her by his birth and by his celebrity. Not in + England only, but throughout Europe, he was a recognized authority on his + own subject. How could she—how could any woman—resist the + influence of his steady mind, his firmness of purpose, his manly + resolution to owe everything to himself and nothing to his rank, set off + as these attractive qualities were by the outward and personal advantages + which exercise an ascendancy of their own? Isabel was fascinated, and yet + Isabel was not at ease. In her lonely moments she was troubled by + regretful thoughts of Moody, which perplexed and irritated her. She had + always behaved honestly to him; she had never encouraged him to hope that + his love for her had the faintest prospect of being returned. Yet, + knowing, as she did, that her conduct was blameless so far, there were + nevertheless perverse sympathies in her which took his part. In the + wakeful hours of the night there were whispering voices in her which said: + “Think of Moody!” Had there been a growing kindness towards this good + friend in her heart, of which she herself was not aware? She tried to + detect it—to weigh it for what it was really worth. But it lay too + deep to be discovered and estimated, if it did really exist—if it + had any sounder origin than her own morbid fancy. In the broad light of + day, in the little bustling duties of life, she forgot it again. She could + think of what she ought to wear on the wedding day; she could even try + privately how her new signature, “Isabel Hardyman,” would look when she + had the right to use it. On the whole, it may be said that the time passed + smoothly—with some occasional checks and drawbacks, which were the + more easily endured seeing that they took their rise in Isabel’s own + conduct. Compliant as she was in general, there were two instances, among + others, in which her resolution to take her own way was not to be + overcome. She refused to write either to Moody or to Lady Lydiard + informing them of her engagement; and she steadily disapproved of Miss + Pink’s policy of concealment, in the matter of the robbery at Lady + Lydiard’s house. Her aunt could only secure her as a passive accomplice by + stating family considerations in the strongest possible terms. “If the + disgrace was confined to you, my dear, I might leave you to decide. But I + am involved in it, as your nearest relative; and, what is more, even the + sacred memories of your father and mother might feel the slur cast on + them.” This exaggerated language—like all exaggerated language, a + mischievous weapon in the arsenal of weakness and prejudice—had its + effect on Isabel. Reluctantly and sadly, she consented to be silent. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink wrote word of the engagement to Moody first; reserving to a + later day the superior pleasure of informing Lady Lydiard of the very + event which that audacious woman had declared to be impossible. To her + aunt’s surprise, just as she was about to close the envelope Isabel + stepped forward, and inconsistently requested leave to add a postscript to + the very letter which she had refused to write! Miss Pink was not even + permitted to see the postscript. Isabel secured the envelope the moment + she laid down her pen, and retired to her room with a headache (which was + heartache in disguise) for the rest of the day. + </p> + <p> + While the question of marriage was still in debate, an event occurred + which exercised a serious influence on Hardyman’s future plans. + </p> + <p> + He received a letter from the Continent which claimed his immediate + attention. One of the sovereigns of Europe had decided on making some + radical changes in the mounting and equipment of a cavalry regiment; and + he required the assistance of Hardyman in that important part of the + contemplated reform which was connected with the choice and purchase of + horses. Setting his own interests out of the question, Hardyman owed + obligations to the kindness of his illustrious correspondent which made it + impossible for him to send an excuse. In a fortnight’s time, at the + latest, it would be necessary for him to leave England; and a month or + more might elapse before it would be possible for him to return. + </p> + <p> + Under these circumstances, he proposed, in his own precipitate way, to + hasten the date of the marriage. The necessary legal delay would permit + the ceremony to be performed on that day fortnight. Isabel might then + accompany him on his journey, and spend a brilliant honeymoon at the + foreign Court. She at once refused, not only to accept his proposal, but + even to take it into consideration. While Miss Pink dwelt eloquently on + the shortness of the notice, Miss Pink’s niece based her resolution on far + more important grounds. Hardyman had not yet announced the contemplated + marriage to his parents and friends; and Isabel was determined not to + become his wife until she could be first assured of a courteous and + tolerant reception by the family—if she could hope for no warmer + welcome at their hands. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman was not a man who yielded easily, even in trifles. In the present + case, his dearest interests were concerned in inducing Isabel to + reconsider her decision. He was still vainly trying to shake her + resolution, when the afternoon post brought a letter for Miss Pink which + introduced a new element of disturbance into the discussion. The letter + was nothing less than Lady Lydiard’s reply to the written announcement of + Isabel’s engagement, despatched on the previous day by Miss Pink. + </p> + <p> + Her Ladyship’s answer was a surprisingly short one. It only contained + these lines: + </p> + <p> + “Lady Lydiard begs to acknowledge the receipt of Miss Pink’s letter + requesting that she will say nothing to Mr. Hardyman of the loss of a + bank-note in her house, and, assigning as a reason that Miss Isabel Miller + is engaged to be married to Mr. Hardyman, and might be prejudiced in his + estimation if the facts were made known. Miss Pink may make her mind easy. + Lady Lydiard had not the slightest intention of taking Mr. Hardyman into + her confidence on the subject of her domestic affairs. With regard to the + proposed marriage, Lady Lydiard casts no doubt on Miss Pink’s perfect + sincerity and good faith; but, at the same time, she positively declines + to believe that Mr. Hardyman means to make Miss Isabel Miller his wife. + Lady L. will yield to the evidence of a properly-attested certificate—and + to nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + A folded piece of paper, directed to Isabel, dropped out of this + characteristic letter as Miss Pink turned from the first page to the + second. Lady Lydiard addressed her adopted daughter in these words: + </p> + <p> + “I was on the point of leaving home to visit you again, when I received + your aunt’s letter. My poor deluded child, no words can tell how + distressed I am about you. You are already sacrificed to the folly of the + most foolish woman living. For God’s sake, take care you do not fall a + victim next to the designs of a profligate man. Come to me instantly, + Isabel, and I promise to take care of you.” + </p> + <p> + Fortified by these letters, and aided by Miss Pink’s indignation, Hardyman + pressed his proposal on Isabel with renewed resolution. She made no + attempt to combat his arguments—she only held firmly to her + decision. Without some encouragement from Hardyman’s father and mother she + still steadily refused to become his wife. Irritated already by Lady + Lydiard’s letters, he lost the self-command which so eminently + distinguished him in the ordinary affairs of life, and showed the + domineering and despotic temper which was an inbred part of his + disposition. Isabel’s high spirit at once resented the harsh terms in + which he spoke to her. In the plainest words, she released him from his + engagement, and, without waiting for his excuses, quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + Left together, Hardyman and Miss Pink devised an arrangement which paid + due respect to Isabel’s scruples, and at the same time met Lady Lydiard’s + insulting assertion of disbelief in Hardyman’s honor, by a formal and + public announcement of the marriage. + </p> + <p> + It was proposed to give a garden party at the farm in a week’s time for + the express purpose of introducing Isabel to Hardyman’s family and friends + in the character of his betrothed wife. If his father and mother accepted + the invitation, Isabel’s only objection to hastening the union would fall + to the ground. Hardyman might, in that case, plead with his Imperial + correspondent for a delay in his departure of a few days more; and the + marriage might still take place before he left England. Isabel, at Miss + Pink’s intercession, was induced to accept her lover’s excuses, and, in + the event of her favorable reception by Hardyman’s parents at the farm, to + give her consent (not very willingly even yet) to hastening the ceremony + which was to make her Hardyman’s wife. + </p> + <p> + On the next morning the whole of the invitations were sent out, excepting + the invitation to Hardyman’s father and mother. Without mentioning it to + Isabel, Hardyman decided on personally appealing to his mother before he + ventured on taking the head of the family into his confidence. + </p> + <p> + The result of the interview was partially successful—and no more. + Lord Rotherfield declined to see his youngest son; and he had engagements + which would, under any circumstances, prevent his being present at the + garden party. But at the express request of Lady Rotherfield, he was + willing to make certain concessions. + </p> + <p> + “I have always regarded Alfred as a barely sane person,” said his + Lordship, “since he turned his back on his prospects to become a horse + dealer. If we decline altogether to sanction this new act—I won’t + say, of insanity, I will say, of absurdity—on his part, it is + impossible to predict to what discreditable extremities he may not + proceed. We must temporise with Alfred. In the meantime I shall endeavor + to obtain some information respecting this young person—named + Miller, I think you said, and now resident at South Morden. If I am + satisfied that she is a woman of reputable character, possessing an + average education and presentable manners, we may as well let Alfred take + his own way. He is out of the pale of Society, as it is; and Miss Miller + has no father and mother to complicate matters, which is distinctly a + merit on her part and, in short, if the marriage is not absolutely + disgraceful, the wisest way (as we have no power to prevent it) will be to + submit. You will say nothing to Alfred about what I propose to do. I tell + you plainly I don’t trust him. You will simply inform him from me that I + want time to consider, and that, unless he hears to the contrary in the + interval, he may expect to have the sanction of your presence at his + breakfast, or luncheon, or whatever it is. I must go to town in a day or + two, and I shall ascertain what Alfred’s friends know about this last of + his many follies, if I meet any of them at the club.” + </p> + <p> + Returning to South Morden in no serene frame of mind, Hardyman found + Isabel in a state of depression which perplexed and alarmed him. + </p> + <p> + The news that his mother might be expected to be present at the garden + party failed entirely to raise her spirits. The only explanation she gave + of the change in her was, that the dull heavy weather of the last few days + made her feel a little languid and nervous. Naturally dissatisfied with + this reply to his inquiries, Hardyman asked for Miss Pink. He was informed + that Miss Pink could not see him. She was constitutionally subject to + asthma, and, having warnings of the return of the malady, she was (by the + doctor’s advice) keeping her room. Hardyman returned to the farm in a + temper which was felt by everybody in his employment, from the trainer to + the stable-boys. + </p> + <p> + While the apology made for Miss Pink stated no more than the plain truth, + it must be confessed that Hardyman was right in declining to be satisfied + with Isabel’s excuse for the melancholy that oppressed her. She had that + morning received Moody’s answer to the lines which she had addressed to + him at the end of her aunt’s letter; and she had not yet recovered from + the effect which it had produced on her spirits. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible for me to say honestly that I am not distressed (Moody + wrote) by the news of your marriage engagement. The blow has fallen very + heavily on me. When I look at the future now, I see only a dreary blank. + This is not your fault—you are in no way to blame. I remember the + time when I should have been too angry to own this—when I might have + said or done things which I should have bitterly repented afterwards. That + time is past. My temper has been softened, since I have befriended you in + your troubles. That good at least has come out of my foolish hopes, and + perhaps out of the true sympathy which I have felt for you. I can honestly + ask you to accept my heart’s dearest wishes for your happiness—and I + can keep the rest to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Let me say a word now relating to the efforts that I have made to help + you, since that sad day when you left Lady Lydiard’s house. + </p> + <p> + “I had hoped (for reasons which it is needless to mention here) to + interest Mr. Hardyman himself in aiding our inquiry. But your aunt’s + wishes, as expressed in her letter to me, close my lips. I will only beg + you, at some convenient time, to let me mention the last discoveries that + we have made; leaving it to your discretion, when Mr. Hardyman has become + your husband, to ask him the questions which, under other circumstances, I + should have put to him myself. + </p> + <p> + “It is, of course, possible that the view I take of Mr. Hardyman’s + capacity to help us may be a mistaken one. In this case, if you still wish + the investigation to be privately carried on, I entreat you to let me + continue to direct it, as the greatest favor you can confer on your + devoted old friend. + </p> + <p> + “You need be under no apprehension about the expense to which you are + likely to put me. I have unexpectedly inherited what is to me a handsome + fortune. + </p> + <p> + “The same post which brought your aunt’s letter brought a line from a + lawyer asking me to see him on the subject of my late father’s affairs. I + waited a day or two before I could summon heart enough to see him, or to + see anybody; and then I went to his office. You have heard that my + father’s bank stopped payment, at a time of commercial panic. His failure + was mainly attributable to the treachery of a friend to whom he had lent a + large sum of money, and who paid him the yearly interest, without + acknowledging that every farthing of it had been lost in unsuccessful + speculations. The son of this man has prospered in business, and he has + honorably devoted a part of his wealth to the payment of his father’s + creditors. Half the sum due to <i>my</i> father has thus passed into my + hands as his next of kin; and the other half is to follow in course of + time. If my hopes had been fulfilled, how gladly I should have shared my + prosperity with you! As it is, I have far more than enough for my wants as + a lonely man, and plenty left to spend in your service. + </p> + <p> + “God bless and prosper you, my dear. I shall ask you to accept a little + present from me, among the other offerings that are made to you before the + wedding day.—R.M.” + </p> + <p> + The studiously considerate and delicate tone in which these lines were + written had an effect on Isabel which was exactly the opposite of the + effect intended by the writer. She burst into a passionate fit of tears; + and in the safe solitude of her own room, the despairing words escaped + her, “I wish I had died before I met with Alfred Hardyman!” + </p> + <p> + As the days wore on, disappointments and difficulties seemed by a kind of + fatality to beset the contemplated announcement of the marriage. + </p> + <p> + Miss Pink’s asthma, developed by the unfavorable weather, set the doctor’s + art at defiance, and threatened to keep that unfortunate lady a prisoner + in her room on the day of the party. Hardyman’s invitations were in some + cases refused; and in others accepted by husbands with excuses for the + absence of their wives. His elder brother made an apology for himself as + well as for his wife. Felix Sweetsir wrote, “With pleasure, dear Alfred, + if my health permits me to leave the house.” Lady Lydiard, invited at Miss + Pink’s special request, sent no reply. The one encouraging circumstance + was the silence of Lady Rotherfield. So long as her son received no + intimation to the contrary, it was a sign that Lord Rotherfield permitted + his wife to sanction the marriage by her presence. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman wrote to his Imperial correspondent, engaging to leave England on + the earliest possible day, and asking to be pardoned if he failed to + express himself more definitely, in consideration of domestic affairs, + which it was necessary to settle before he started for the Continent. If + there should not be time enough to write again, he promised to send a + telegraphic announcement of his departure. Long afterwards, Hardyman + remembered the misgivings that had troubled him when he wrote that letter. + In the rough draught of it, he had mentioned, as his excuse for not being + yet certain of his own movements, that he expected to be immediately + married. In the fair copy, the vague foreboding of some accident to come + was so painfully present to his mind, that he struck out the words which + referred to his marriage, and substituted the designedly indefinite + phrase, “domestic affairs.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> + <p> + THE day of the garden party arrived. There was no rain; but the air was + heavy, and the sky was overcast by lowering clouds. + </p> + <p> + Some hours before the guests were expected, Isabel arrived alone at the + farm, bearing the apologies of unfortunate Miss Pink, still kept a + prisoner in her bed-chamber by the asthma. In the confusion produced at + the cottage by the preparations for entertaining the company, the one room + in which Hardyman could receive Isabel with the certainty of not being + interrupted was the smoking-room. To this haven of refuge he led her—still + reserved and silent, still not restored to her customary spirits. “If any + visitors come before the time,” Hardyman said to his servant, “tell them I + am engaged at the stables. I must have an hour’s quiet talk with you,” he + continued, turning to Isabel, “or I shall be in too bad a temper to + receive my guests with common politeness. The worry of giving this party + is not to be told in words. I almost wish I had been content with + presenting you to my mother, and had let the rest of my acquaintances go + to the devil.” + </p> + <p> + A quiet half hour passed; and the first visitor, a stranger to the + servants, appeared at the cottage-gate. He was a middle-aged man, and he + had no wish to disturb Mr. Hardyman. “I will wait in the grounds,” he + said, “and trouble nobody.” The middle-aged man, who expressed himself in + these modest terms, was Robert Moody. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later, a carriage drove up to the gate. An elderly lady got + out of it, followed by a fat white Scotch terrier, who growled at every + stranger within his reach. It is needless to introduce Lady Lydiard and + Tommie. + </p> + <p> + Informed that Mr. Hardyman was at the stables, Lady Lydiard gave the + servant her card. “Take that to your master, and say I won’t detain him + five minutes.” With these words, her Ladyship sauntered into the grounds. + She looked about her with observant eyes; not only noticing the tent which + had been set up on the grass to accommodate the expected guests, but + entering it, and looking at the waiters who were engaged in placing the + luncheon on the table. Returning to the outer world, she next remarked + that Mr. Hardyman’s lawn was in very bad order. Barren sun-dried patches, + and little holes and crevices opened here and there by the action of the + summer heat, announced that the lawn, like everything else at the farm, + had been neglected, in the exclusive attention paid to the claims of the + horses. Reaching a shrubbery which bounded one side of the grounds next, + her Ladyship became aware of a man slowly approaching her, to all + appearance absorbed in thought. The man drew a little nearer. She lifted + her glasses to her eyes and recognized—Moody. + </p> + <p> + No embarrassment was produced on either side by this unexpected meeting. + Lady Lydiard had, not long since, sent to ask her former steward to visit + her; regretting, in her warm-hearted way, the terms on which they had + separated, and wishing to atone for the harsh language that had escaped + her at their parting interview. In the friendly talk which followed the + reconciliation, Lady Lydiard not only heard the news of Moody’s pecuniary + inheritance—but, noticing the change in his appearance for the + worse, contrived to extract from him the confession of his ill-starred + passion for Isabel. To discover him now, after all that he had + acknowledged, walking about the grounds at Hardyman’s farm, took her + Ladyship completely by surprise. “Good Heavens!” she exclaimed, in her + loudest tones, “what are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “You mentioned Mr. Hardyman’s garden party, my Lady, when I had the honor + of waiting on you,” Moody answered. “Thinking over it afterward, it seemed + the fittest occasion I could find for making a little wedding present to + Miss Isabel. Is there any harm in my asking Mr. Hardyman to let me put the + present on her plate, so that she may see it when she sits down to + luncheon? If your Ladyship thinks so, I will go away directly, and send + the gift by post.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard looked at him attentively. “You don’t despise the girl,” she + asked, “for selling herself for rank and money? I do—I can tell + you!” + </p> + <p> + Moody’s worn white face flushed a little. “No, my Lady,” he answered, “I + can’t hear you say that! Isabel would not have engaged herself to Mr. + Hardyman unless she had been fond of him—as fond, I dare say, as I + once hoped she might be of me. It’s a hard thing to confess that; but I do + confess it, in justice to her—God bless her!” + </p> + <p> + The generosity that spoke in those simple words touched the finest + sympathies in Lady Lydiard’s nature. “Give me your hand,” she said, with + her own generous spirit kindling in her eyes. “You have a great heart, + Moody. Isabel Miller is a fool for not marrying <i>you</i>—and one + day she will know it!” + </p> + <p> + Before a word more could pass between them, Hardyman’s voice was audible + on the other side of the shrubbery, calling irritably to his servant to + find Lady Lydiard. + </p> + <p> + Moody retired to the further end of the walk, while Lady Lydiard advanced + in the opposite direction, so as to meet Hardyman at the entrance to the + shrubbery. He bowed stiffly, and begged to know why her Ladyship had + honored him with a visit. + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard replied without noticing the coldness of her reception. + </p> + <p> + “I have not been very well, Mr. Hardyman, or you would have seen me before + this. My only object in presenting myself here is to make my excuses + personally for having written of you in terms which expressed a doubt of + your honor. I have done you an injustice, and I beg you to forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman acknowledged this frank apology as unreservedly as it had been + offered to him. “Say no more, Lady Lydiard. And let me hope, now you are + here, that you will honor my little party with your presence.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Lydiard gravely stated her reasons for not accepting the invitation. + </p> + <p> + “I disapprove so strongly of unequal marriages,” she said, walking on + slowly towards the cottage, “that I cannot, in common consistency, become + one of your guests. I shall always feel interested in Isabel Miller’s + welfare; and I can honestly say I shall be glad if your married life + proves that my old-fashioned prejudices are without justification in your + case. Accept my thanks for your invitation; and let me hope that my plain + speaking has not offended you.” + </p> + <p> + She bowed, and looked about her for Tommie before she advanced to the + carriage waiting for her at the gate. In the surprise of seeing Moody she + had forgotten to look back for the dog when she entered the shrubbery. She + now called to him, and blew the whistle at her watch-chain. Not a sign of + Tommie was to be seen. Hardyman instantly directed the servants to search + in the cottage and out of the cottage for the dog. The order was obeyed + with all needful activity and intelligence, and entirely without success. + For the time being at any rate, Tommie was lost. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman promised to have the dog looked for in every part of the farm, + and to send him back in the care of one of his own men. With these polite + assurances Lady Lydiard was obliged to be satisfied. She drove away in a + very despondent frame of mind. “First Isabel, and now Tommie,” thought her + Ladyship. “I am losing the only companions who made life tolerable to me.” + </p> + <p> + Returning from the garden gate, after taking leave of his visitor, + Hardyman received from his servant a handful of letters which had just + arrived for him. Walking slowly over the lawn as he opened them, he found + nothing but excuses for the absence of guests who had already accepted + their invitations. He had just thrust the letters into his pocket, when he + heard footsteps behind him, and, looking round, found himself confronted + by Moody. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! have you come to lunch?” Hardyman asked, roughly. + </p> + <p> + “I have come here, sir, with a little gift for Miss Isabel, in honor of + her marriage,” Moody answered quietly, “and I ask your permission to put + it on the table, so that she may see it when your guests sit down to + luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + He opened a jeweler’s case as he spoke, containing a plain gold bracelet + with an inscription engraved on the inner side: “To Miss Isabel Miller, + with the sincere good wishes of Robert Moody.” + </p> + <p> + Plain as it was, the design of the bracelet was unusually beautiful. + Hardyman had noticed Moody’s agitation on the day when he had met Isabel + near her aunt’s house, and had drawn his own conclusions from it. His face + darkened with a momentary jealousy as he looked at the bracelet. “All + right, old fellow!” he said, with contemptuous familiarity. “Don’t be + modest. Wait and give it to her with your own hand.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Moody “I would rather leave it, if you please, to speak + for itself.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman understood the delicacy of feeling which dictated those words, + and, without well knowing why, resented it. He was on the point of + speaking, under the influence of this unworthy motive, when Isabel’s voice + reached his ears, calling to him from the cottage. + </p> + <p> + Moody’s face contracted with a sudden expression of pain as he, too, + recognized the voice. “Don’t let me detain you, sir,” he said, sadly. + “Good-morning!” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman left him without ceremony. Moody, slowly following, entered the + tent. All the preparations for the luncheon had been completed; nobody was + there. The places to be occupied by the guests were indicated by cards + bearing their names. Moody found Isabel’s card, and put his bracelet + inside the folded napkin on her plate. For a while he stood with his hand + on the table, thinking. The temptation to communicate once more with + Isabel before he lost her forever, was fast getting the better of his + powers of resistance. + </p> + <p> + “If I could persuade her to write a word to say she liked her bracelet,” + he thought, “it would be a comfort when I go back to my solitary life.” He + tore a leaf out of his pocket book and wrote on it, “One line to say you + accept my gift and my good wishes. Put it under the cushion of your chair, + and I shall find it when the company have left the tent.” He slipped the + paper into the case which held the bracelet, and instead of leaving the + farm as he had intended, turned back to the shelter of the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> + <p> + HARDYMAN went on to the cottage. He found Isabel in some agitation. And + there, by her side, with his tail wagging slowly, and his eye on Hardyman + in expectation of a possible kick—there was the lost Tommie! + </p> + <p> + “Has Lady Lydiard gone?” Isabel asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Hardyman. “Where did you find the dog?” + </p> + <p> + As events had ordered it, the dog had found Isabel, under these + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of Lady Lydiard’s card in the smoking-room had been an + alarming event for Lady Lydiard’s adopted daughter. She was guiltily + conscious of not having answered her Ladyship’s note, inclosed in Miss + Pink’s letter, and of not having taken her Ladyship’s advice in regulating + her conduct towards Hardyman. As he rose to leave the room and receive his + visitor in the grounds, Isabel begged him to say nothing of her presence + at the farm, unless Lady Lydiard exhibited a forgiving turn of mind by + asking to see her. Left by herself in the smoking-room, she suddenly heard + a bark in the passage which had a familiar sound in her ears. She opened + the door—and in rushed Tommie, with one of his shrieks of delight! + Curiosity had taken him into the house. He had heard the voices in the + smoking-room; had recognized Isabel’s voice; and had waited, with his + customary cunning and his customary distrust of strangers, until Hardyman + was out of the way. Isabel kissed and caressed him, and then drove him out + again to the lawn, fearing that Lady Lydiard might return to look for him. + Going back to the smoking-room, she stood at the window watching for + Hardyman’s return. When the servants came to look for the dog, she could + only tell them that she had last seen him in the grounds, not far from the + cottage. The useless search being abandoned, and the carriage having left + the gate, who should crawl out from the back of a cupboard in which some + empty hampers were placed but Tommie himself! How he had contrived to get + back to the smoking-room (unless she had omitted to completely close the + door on her return) it was impossible to say. But there he was, determined + this time to stay with Isabel, and keeping in his hiding place until he + heard the movement of the carriage-wheels, which informed him that his + lawful mistress had left the cottage! Isabel had at once called Hardyman, + on the chance that the carriage might yet be stopped. It was already out + of sight, and nobody knew which of two roads it had taken, both leading to + London. In this emergency, Isabel could only look at Hardyman and ask what + was to be done. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t spare a servant till after the party,” he answered. “The dog must + be tied up in the stables.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel shook her head. Tommie was not accustomed to be tied up. He would + make a disturbance, and he would be beaten by the grooms. “I will take + care of him,” she said. “He won’t leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s something else to think of besides the dog,” Hardyman rejoined + irritably. “Look at these letters!” He pulled them out of his pocket as he + spoke. “Here are no less than seven men, all calling themselves my + friends, who accepted my invitation, and who write to excuse themselves on + the very day of the party. Do you know why? They’re all afraid of my + father—I forgot to tell you he’s a Cabinet Minister as well as a + Lord. Cowards and cads. They have heard he isn’t coming and they think to + curry favor with the great man by stopping away. Come along, Isabel! Let’s + take their names off the luncheon table. Not a man of them shall ever + darken my doors again!” + </p> + <p> + “I am to blame for what has happened,” Isabel answered sadly. “I am + estranging you from your friends. There is still time, Alfred, to alter + your mind and let me go.” + </p> + <p> + He put his arm round her with rough fondness. “I would sacrifice every + friend I have in the world rather than lose you. Come along!” + </p> + <p> + They left the cottage. At the entrance to the tent, Hardyman noticed the + dog at Isabel’s heels, and vented his ill-temper, as usual with male + humanity, on the nearest unoffending creature that he could find. “Be off, + you mongrel brute!” he shouted. The tail of Tommie relaxed from its + customary tight curve over the small of his back; and the legs of Tommie + (with his tail between them) took him at full gallop to the friendly + shelter of the cupboard in the smoking-room. It was one of those trifling + circumstances which women notice seriously. Isabel said nothing; she only + thought to herself, “I wish he had shown his temper when I first knew + him!” + </p> + <p> + They entered the tent. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll read the names,” said Hardyman, “and you find the cards and tear + them up. Stop! I’ll keep the cards. You’re just the sort of woman my + father likes. He’ll be reconciled to me when he sees you, after we are + married. If one of those men ever asks him for a place, I’ll take care, if + it’s years hence, to put an obstacle in his way! Here; take my pencil, and + make a mark on the cards to remind me; the same mark I set against a horse + in my book when I don’t like him—a cross, inclosed in a circle.” He + produced his pocketbook. His hands trembled with anger as he gave the + pencil to Isabel and laid the book on the table. He had just read the name + of the first false friend, and Isabel had just found the card, when a + servant appeared with a message. “Mrs. Drumblade has arrived, sir, and + wishes to see you on a matter of the greatest importance.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman left the tent, not very willingly. “Wait here,” he said to + Isabel; “I’ll be back directly.” + </p> + <p> + She was standing near her own place at the table. Moody had left one end + of the jeweler’s case visible above the napkin, to attract her attention. + In a minute more the bracelet and note were in her hands. She dropped on + her chair, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions that rose in her at the + sight of the bracelet, at the reading of the note. Her head drooped, and + the tears filled her eyes. “Are all women as blind as I have been to what + is good and noble in the men who love them?” she wondered, sadly. “Better + as it is,” she thought, with a bitter sigh; “I am not worthy of him.” + </p> + <p> + As she took up the pencil to write her answer to Moody on the back of her + dinner-card, the servant appeared again at the door of the tent. + </p> + <p> + “My master wants you at the cottage, miss, immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel rose, putting the bracelet and the note in the silver-mounted + leather pocket (a present from Hardyman) which hung at her belt. In the + hurry of passing round the table to get out, she never noticed that her + dress touched Hardyman’s pocketbook, placed close to the edge, and threw + it down on the grass below. The book fell into one of the heat cracks + which Lady Lydiard had noticed as evidence of the neglected condition of + the cottage lawn. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to hear the pleasant news my sister has just brought me,” said + Hardyman, when Isabel joined him in the parlor. “Mrs. Drumblade has been + told, on the best authority, that my mother is not coming to the party.” + </p> + <p> + “There must be some reason, of course, dear Isabel,” added Mrs. Drumblade. + “Have you any idea of what it can be? I haven’t seen my mother myself; and + all my inquiries have failed to find it out.” + </p> + <p> + She looked searchingly at Isabel as she spoke. The mask of sympathy on her + face was admirably worn. Nobody who possessed only a superficial + acquaintance with Mrs. Drumblade’s character would have suspected how + thoroughly she was enjoying in secret the position of embarrassment in + which her news had placed her brother. Instinctively doubting whether Mrs. + Drumblade’s friendly behavior was quite as sincere as it appeared to be, + Isabel answered that she was a stranger to Lady Rotherfield, and was + therefore quite at a loss to explain the cause of her ladyship’s absence. + As she spoke, the guests began to arrive in quick succession, and the + subject was dropped as a matter of course. + </p> + <p> + It was not a merry party. Hardyman’s approaching marriage had been made + the topic of much malicious gossip, and Isabel’s character had, as usual + in such cases, become the object of all the false reports that scandal + could invent. Lady Rotherfield’s absence confirmed the general conviction + that Hardyman was disgracing himself. The men were all more or less + uneasy. The women resented the discovery that Isabel was—personally + speaking, at least—beyond the reach of hostile criticism. Her beauty + was viewed as a downright offense; her refined and modest manners were set + down as perfect acting; “really disgusting, my dear, in so young a girl.” + General Drumblade, a large and mouldy veteran, in a state of chronic + astonishment (after his own matrimonial experience) at Hardyman’s folly in + marrying at all, diffused a wide circle of gloom, wherever he went and + whatever he did. His accomplished wife, forcing her high spirits on + everybody’s attention with a sort of kittenish playfulness, intensified + the depressing effect of the general dullness by all the force of the + strongest contrast. After waiting half an hour for his mother, and waiting + in vain, Hardyman led the way to the tent in despair. “The sooner I fill + their stomachs and get rid of them,” he thought savagely, “the better I + shall be pleased!” + </p> + <p> + The luncheon was attacked by the company with a certain silent ferocity, + which the waiters noticed as remarkable, even in their large experience. + The men drank deeply, but with wonderfully little effect in raising their + spirits; the women, with the exception of amiable Mrs. Drumblade, kept + Isabel deliberately out of the conversation that went on among them. + General Drumblade, sitting next to her in one of the places of honor, + discoursed to Isabel privately on “my brother-in-law Hardyman’s infernal + temper.” A young marquis, on her other side—a mere lad, chosen to + make the necessary speech in acknowledgment of his superior rank—rose, + in a state of nervous trepidation, to propose Isabel’s health as the + chosen bride of their host. Pale and trembling, conscious of having + forgotten the words which he had learnt beforehand, this unhappy young + nobleman began: “Ladies and gentlemen, I haven’t an idea—” He + stopped, put his hand to his head, stared wildly, and sat down again; + having contrived to state his own case with masterly brevity and perfect + truth, in a speech of seven words. + </p> + <p> + While the dismay, in some cases, and the amusement in others, was still at + its height, Hardyman’s valet made his appearance, and, approaching his + master, said in a whisper, “Could I speak to you, sit, for a moment + outside?” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you want?” Hardyman asked irritably. “Is that a letter + in your hand? Give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + The valet was a Frenchman. In other words, he had a sense of what was due + to himself. His master had forgotten this. He gave up the letter with a + certain dignity of manner, and left the tent. Hardyman opened the letter. + He turned pale as he read it; crumpled it in his hand, and threw it down + on the table. “By G—d! it’s a lie!” he exclaimed furiously. + </p> + <p> + The guests rose in confusion. Mrs. Drumblade, finding the letter within + her reach, coolly possessed herself of it; recognized her mother’s + handwriting; and read these lines: + </p> + <p> + “I have only now succeeded in persuading your father to let me write to + you. For God’s sake, break off your marriage at any sacrifice. Your father + has heard, on unanswerable authority, that Miss Isabel Miller left her + situation in Lady Lydiard’s house on suspicion of theft.” + </p> + <p> + While his sister was reading this letter, Hardyman had made his way to + Isabel’s chair. “I must speak to you, directly,” he whispered. “Come away + with me!” He turned, as he took her arm, and looked at the table. “Where + is my letter?” he asked. Mrs. Drumblade handed it to him, dexterously + crumpled up again as she had found it. “No bad news, dear Alfred, I hope?” + she said, in her most affectionate manner. Hardyman snatched the letter + from her, without answering, and led Isabel out of the tent. + </p> + <p> + “Read that!” he said, when they were alone. “And tell me at once whether + it’s true or false.” + </p> + <p> + Isabel read the letter. For a moment the shock of the discovery held her + speechless. She recovered herself, and returned the letter. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Hardyman staggered back as if she had shot him. + </p> + <p> + “True that you are guilty?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No; I am innocent. Everybody who knows me believes in my innocence. It is + true the appearances were against me. They are against me still.” Having + said this, she waited, quietly and firmly, for his next words. + </p> + <p> + He passed his hand over his forehead with a sigh of relief. “It’s bad + enough as it is,” he said, speaking quietly on his side. “But the remedy + for it is plain enough. Come back to the tent.” + </p> + <p> + She never moved. “Why?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose I don’t believe in your innocence too?” he answered. “The + one way of setting you right with the world now is for me to make you my + wife, in spite of the appearances that point to you. I’m too fond of you, + Isabel, to give you up. Come back with me, and I will announce our + marriage to my friends.” + </p> + <p> + She took his hand, and kissed it. “It is generous and good of you,” she + said; “but it must not be.” + </p> + <p> + He took a step nearer to her. “What do you mean?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It was against my will,” she pursued, “that my aunt concealed the truth + from you. I did wrong to consent to it, I will do wrong no more. Your + mother is right, Alfred. After what has happened, I am not fit to be your + wife until my innocence is proved. It is not proved yet.” + </p> + <p> + The angry color began to rise in his face once more. “Take care,” he said; + “I am not in a humor to be trifled with.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not trifling with you,” she answered, in low, sad tones. + </p> + <p> + “You really mean what you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be obstinate, Isabel. Take time to consider.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, Alfred. My duty is plain to me. I will marry you—if + you still wish it—when my good name is restored to me. Not before.” + </p> + <p> + He laid one hand on her arm, and pointed with the other to the guests in + the distance, all leaving the tent on the way to their carriages. + </p> + <p> + “Your good name will be restored to you,” he said, “on the day when I + make you my wife. The worst enemy you have cannot associate <i>my</i> name + with a suspicion of theft. Remember that and think a little before you + decide. You see those people there. If you don’t change your mind by the + time they have got to the cottage, it’s good-by between us, and good-by + forever. I refuse to wait for you; I refuse to accept a conditional + engagement. Wait, and think. They’re walking slowly; you have got some + minutes more.” + </p> + <p> + He still held her arm, watching the guests as they gradually receded from + view. It was not until they had all collected in a group outside the + cottage door that he spoke himself, or that he permitted Isabel to speak + again. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said, “you have had your time to get cool. Will you take my arm, + and join those people with me? or will you say good-by forever?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Alfred!” she began, gently. “I cannot consent, in justice to + you, to shelter myself behind your name. It is the name of your family; + and they have a right to expect that you will not degrade it—” + </p> + <p> + “I want a plain answer,” he interposed sternly. “Which is it? Yes, or No?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with sad compassionate eyes. Her voice was firm as she + answered him in one word as he had desired. The word was— + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Without speaking to her, without even looking at her, he turned and walked + back to the cottage. + </p> + <p> + Making his way silently through the group of visitors—every one of + whom had been informed of what had happened by his sister—with his + head down and his lips fast closed, he entered the parlor and rang the + bell which communicated with his foreman’s rooms at the stables. + </p> + <p> + “You know that I am going abroad on business?” he said, when the man + appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to-day—going by the night train to Dover. Order the + horse to be put to instantly in the dogcart. Is there anything wanted + before I am off?” + </p> + <p> + The inexorable necessities of business asserted their claims through the + obedient medium of the foreman. Chafing at the delay, Hardyman was obliged + to sit at his desk, signing checks and passing accounts, with the dogcart + waiting in the stable yard. + </p> + <p> + A knock at the door startled him in the middle of his work. “Come in,” he + called out sharply. + </p> + <p> + He looked up, expecting to see one of the guests or one of the servants. + It was Moody who entered the room. Hardyman laid down his pen, and fixed + his eyes sternly on the man who had dared to interrupt him. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do <i>you</i> want?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Miss Isabel, and spoken with her,” Moody replied. “Mr. + Hardyman, I believe it is in your power to set this matter right. For the + young lady’s sake, sir, you must not leave England without doing it.” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman turned to his foreman. “Is this fellow mad or drunk?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Moody proceeded as calmly and as resolutely as if those words had not been + spoken. “I apologize for my intrusion, sir. I will trouble you with no + explanations. I will only ask one question. Have you a memorandum of the + number of that five-hundred pound note you paid away in France?” + </p> + <p> + Hardyman lost all control over himself. + </p> + <p> + “You scoundrel!” he cried, “have you been prying into my private affairs? + Is it <i>your</i> business to know what I did in France?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it <i>your</i> vengeance on a woman to refuse to tell her the number + of a bank-note?” Moody rejoined, firmly. + </p> + <p> + That answer forced its way, through Hardyman’s anger, to Hardyman’s sense + of honor. He rose and advanced to Moody. For a moment the two men faced + each other in silence. “You’re a bold fellow,” said Hardyman, with a + sudden change from anger to irony. “I’ll do the lady justice. I’ll look at + my pocketbook.” + </p> + <p> + He put his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat; he searched his other + pockets; he turned over the objects on his writing-table. The book was + gone. + </p> + <p> + Moody watched him with a feeling of despair. “Oh! Mr. Hardyman, don’t say + you have lost your pocketbook!” + </p> + <p> + He sat down again at his desk, with sullen submission to the new disaster. + “All I can say is you’re at liberty to look for it,” he replied. “I must + have dropped it somewhere.” He turned impatiently to the foreman, “Now + then! What is the next check wanted? I shall go mad if I wait in this + damned place much longer!” + </p> + <p> + Moody left him, and found his way to the servants’ offices. “Mr. Hardyman + has lost his pocketbook,” he said. “Look for it, indoors and out—on + the lawn, and in the tent. Ten pounds reward for the man who finds it!” + </p> + <p> + Servants and waiters instantly dispersed, eager for the promised reward. + The men who pursued the search outside the cottage divided their forces. + Some of them examined the lawn and the flower-beds. Others went straight + to the empty tent. These last were too completely absorbed in pursuing the + object in view to notice that they disturbed a dog, eating a stolen lunch + of his own from the morsels left on the plates. The dog slunk away under + the canvas when the men came in, waited in hiding until they had gone, + then returned to the tent, and went on with his luncheon. + </p> + <p> + Moody hastened back to the part of the grounds (close to the shrubbery) in + which Isabel was waiting his return. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, while he was telling her of his interview with + Hardyman, with an expression in her eyes which he had never seen in them + before—an expression which set his heart beating wildly, and made + him break off in his narrative before he had reached the end. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she said quietly, as he stopped in confusion. “You have + made one more sacrifice to my welfare. Robert! I believe you are the + noblest man that ever breathed the breath of life!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes sank before hers; he blushed like a boy. “I have done nothing for + you yet,” he said. “Don’t despair of the future, if the pocketbook should + not be found. I know who the man is who received the bank note; and I have + only to find him to decide the question whether it <i>is</i> the stolen + note or not.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled sadly as his enthusiasm. “Are you going back to Mr. Sharon to + help you?” she asked. “That trick he played me has destroyed <i>my</i> + belief in him. He no more knows than I do who the thief really is.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Isabel. He knows—and I know.” He stopped there, + and made a sign to her to be silent. One of the servants was approaching + them. + </p> + <p> + “Is the pocketbook found?” Moody asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Hardyman left the cottage?” + </p> + <p> + “He has just gone, sir. Have you any further instructions to give us?” + </p> + <p> + “No. There is my address in London, if the pocketbook should be found.” + </p> + <p> + The man took the card that was handed to him and retired. Moody offered + his arm to Isabel. “I am at your service,” he said, “when you wish to + return to your aunt.” + </p> + <p> + They had advanced nearly as far as the tent, on their way out of the + grounds, when they were met by a gentleman walking towards them from the + cottage. He was a stranger to Isabel. Moody immediately recognized him as + Mr. Felix Sweetsir. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! our good Moody!” cried Felix. “Enviable man! you look younger than + ever.” He took off his hat to Isabel; his bright restless eyes suddenly + became quiet as they rested on her. “Have I the honor of addressing the + future Mrs. Hardyman? May I offer my best congratulations? What has become + of our friend Alfred?” + </p> + <p> + Moody answered for Isabel. “If you will make inquiries at the cottage, + sir,” he said, “you will find that you are mistaken, to say the least of + it, in addressing your questions to this young lady.” + </p> + <p> + Felix took off his hat again—with the most becoming appearance of + surprise and distress. + </p> + <p> + “Something wrong, I fear?” he said, addressing Isabel. “I am, indeed, + ashamed if I have ignorantly given you a moment’s pain. Pray accept my + most sincere apologies. I have only this instant arrived; my health would + not allow me to be present at the luncheon. Permit me to express the + earnest hope that matters may be set right to the satisfaction of all + parties. Good-afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed with elaborate courtesy, and turned back to the cottage. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” Isabel asked. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Lydiard’s nephew, Mr. Felix Sweetsir,” Moody answered, with a sudden + sternness of tone, and a sudden coldness of manner, which surprised + Isabel. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t like him?” she said. + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, Felix stopped to give audience to one of the grooms, who + had apparently been sent with a message to him. He turned so that his face + was once more visible to Isabel. Moody pressed her hand significantly as + it rested on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Look well at that man,” he whispered. “It’s time to warn you. Mr. Felix + Sweetsir is the worst enemy you have!” + </p> + <p> + Isabel heard him in speechless astonishment. He went on in tones that + trembled with suppressed emotion. + </p> + <p> + “You doubt if Sharon knows the thief. You doubt if I know the thief. + Isabel! as certainly as the heaven is above us, there stands the wretch + who stole the bank-note!” + </p> + <p> + She drew her hand out of his arm with a cry of terror. She looked at him + as if she doubted whether he was in his right mind. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand, and waited a moment trying to compose himself. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” he said. “At the first consultation I had with Sharon he + gave this advice to Mr. Troy and to me. He said, ‘Suspect the very last + person on whom suspicion could possibly fall.’ Those words, taken with the + questions he had asked before he pronounced his opinion, struck through me + as if he had struck me with a knife. I instantly suspected Lady Lydiard’s + nephew. Wait! From that time to this I have said nothing of my suspicion + to any living soul. I knew in my own heart that it took its rise in the + inveterate dislike that I have always felt for Mr. Sweetsir, and I + distrusted it accordingly. But I went back to Sharon, for all that, and + put the case into his hands. His investigations informed me that Mr. + Sweetsir owed ‘debts of honor’ (as gentlemen call them), incurred through + lost bets, to a large number of persons, and among them a bet of five + hundred pounds lost to Mr. Hardyman. Further inquiries showed that Mr. + Hardyman had taken the lead in declaring that he would post Mr. Sweetsir + as a defaulter, and have him turned out of his clubs, and turned out of + the betting-ring. Ruin stared him in the face if he failed to pay his debt + to Mr. Hardyman on the last day left to him—the day after the note + was lost. On that very morning, Lady Lydiard, speaking to me of her + nephew’s visit to her, said, ‘If I had given him an opportunity of + speaking, Felix would have borrowed money of me; I saw it in his face.’ + One moment more, Isabel. I am not only certain that Mr. Sweetsir took the + five-hundred pound note out of the open letter, I am firmly persuaded that + he is the man who told Lord Rotherfield of the circumstances under which + you left Lady Lydiard’s house. Your marriage to Mr. Hardyman might have + put you in a position to detect the theft. You, not I, might, in that + case, have discovered from your husband that the stolen note was the note + with which Mr. Sweetsir paid his debt. He came here, you may depend on it, + to make sure that he had succeeded in destroying your prospects. A more + depraved villain at heart than that man never swung from a gallows!” + </p> + <p> + He checked himself at those words. The shock of the disclosure, the + passion and vehemence with which he spoke, overwhelmed Isabel. She + trembled like a frightened child. + </p> + <p> + While he was still trying to soothe and reassure her, a low whining made + itself heard at her feet. They looked down, and saw Tommie. Finding + himself noticed at last, he expressed his sense of relief by a bark. + Something dropped out of his mouth. As Moody stooped to pick it up, the + dog ran to Isabel and pushed his head against her feet, as his way was + when he expected to have the handkerchief thrown over him, preparatory to + one of those games at hide-and-seek which have been already mentioned. + Isabel put out her hand to caress him, when she was stopped by a cry from + Moody. It was <i>his</i> turn to tremble now. His voice faltered as he + said the words, “The dog has found the pocketbook!” + </p> + <p> + He opened the book with shaking hands. A betting-book was bound up in it, + with the customary calendar. He turned to the date of the day after the + robbery. + </p> + <p> + There was the entry: “Felix Sweetsir. Paid 500 pounds. Note numbered, N 8, + 70564; dated 15th May, 1875.” + </p> + <p> + Moody took from his waistcoat pocket his own memorandum of the number of + the lost bank-note. “Read it Isabel,” he said. “I won’t trust my memory.” + </p> + <p> + She read it. The number and date of the note entered in the pocketbook + exactly corresponded with the number and date of the note that Lady + Lydiard had placed in her letter. + </p> + <p> + Moody handed the pocketbook to Isabel. “There is the proof of your + innocence,” he said, “thanks to the dog! Will you write and tell Mr. + Hardyman what has happened?” he asked, with his head down and his eyes on + the ground. + </p> + <p> + She answered him, with the bright color suddenly flowing over her face. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> shall write to him,” she said, “when the time comes.” + </p> + <p> + “What time?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She threw her arms round his neck, and hid her face on his bosom. + </p> + <p> + “The time,” she whispered, “when I am your wife.” + </p> + <p> + A low growl from Tommie reminded them that he too had some claim to be + noticed. + </p> + <p> + Isabel dropped on her knees, and saluted her old playfellow with the + heartiest kisses she had ever given him since the day when their + acquaintance began. “You darling!” she said, as she put him down again, + “what can I do to reward you?” + </p> + <p> + Tommie rolled over on his back—more slowly than usual, in + consequence of his luncheon in the tent. He elevated his four paws in the + air and looked lazily at Isabel out of his bright brown eyes. If ever a + dog’s look spoke yet, Tommie’s look said, “I have eaten too much; rub my + stomach.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POSTSCRIPT. + </h2> + <p> + Persons of a speculative turn of mind are informed that the following + document is for sale, and are requested to mention what sum they will give + for it. + </p> + <p> + “IOU, Lady Lydiard, five hundred pounds (L500), Felix Sweetsir.” + </p> + <p> + Her Ladyship became possessed of this pecuniary remittance under + circumstances which surround it with a halo of romantic interest. It was + the last communication she was destined to receive from her accomplished + nephew. There was a Note attached to it, which cannot fail to enhance its + value in the estimation of all right-minded persons who assist the + circulation of paper money. + </p> + <p> + The lines that follow are strictly confidential: + </p> + <p> + “Note.—Our excellent Moody informs me, my dear aunt, that you have + decided (against his advice) on ‘refusing to prosecute.’ I have not the + slightest idea of what he means; but I am very much obliged to him, + nevertheless, for reminding me of a circumstance which is of some interest + to yourself personally. + </p> + <p> + “I am on the point of retiring to the Continent in search of health. One + generally forgets something important when one starts on a journey. Before + Moody called, I had entirely forgotten to mention that I had the pleasure + of borrowing five hundred pounds of you some little time since. + </p> + <p> + “On the occasion to which I refer, your language and manner suggested that + you would not lend me the money if I asked for it. Obviously, the only + course left was to take it without asking. I took it while Moody was gone + to get some curacoa; and I returned to the picture-gallery in time to + receive that delicious liqueur from the footman’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “You will naturally ask why I found it necessary to supply myself (if I + may borrow an expression from the language of State finance) with this + ‘forced loan.’ I was actuated by motives which I think do me honor. My + position at the time was critical in the extreme. My credit with the + money-lenders was at an end; my friends had all turned their backs on me. + I must either take the money or disgrace my family. If there is a man + living who is sincerely attached to his family, I am that man. I took the + money. + </p> + <p> + “Conceive your position as my aunt (I say nothing of myself), if I had + adopted the other alternative. Turned out of the Jockey Club, turned out + of Tattersalls’, turned out of the betting-ring; in short, posted publicly + as a defaulter before the noblest institution in England, the Turf—and + all for want of five hundred pounds to stop the mouth of the greatest + brute I know of, Alfred Hardyman! Let me not harrow your feelings (and + mine) by dwelling on it. Dear and admirable woman! To you belongs the + honor of saving the credit of the family; I can claim nothing but the + inferior merit of having offered you the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “My IOU, it is needless to say, accompanies these lines. Can I do anything + for you abroad?—F. S.” + </p> + <p> + To this it is only necessary to add (first) that Moody was perfectly right + in believing F. S. to be the person who informed Hardyman’s father of + Isabel’s position when she left Lady Lydiard’s house; and (secondly) that + Felix did really forward Mr. Troy’s narrative of the theft to the French + police, altering nothing in it but the number of the lost bank-note. + </p> + <p> + What is there left to write about? Nothing is left—but to say + good-by (very sorrowfully on the writer’s part) to the Persons of the + Story. + </p> + <p> + Good-by to Miss Pink—who will regret to her dying day that Isabel’s + answer to Hardyman was No. + </p> + <p> + Good-by to Lady Lydiard—who differs with Miss Pink, and would have + regretted it, to <i>her</i> dying day, if the answer had been Yes. + </p> + <p> + Good-by to Moody and Isabel—whose history has closed with the + closing of the clergyman’s book on their wedding-day. + </p> + <p> + Good-by to Hardyman—who has sold his farm and his horses, and has + begun a new life among the famous fast trotters of America. + </p> + <p> + Good-by to Old Sharon—who, a martyr to his promise, brushed his hair + and washed his face in honor of Moody’s marriage; and catching a severe + cold as the necessary consequence, declared, in the intervals of sneezing, + that he would “never do it again.” + </p> + <p> + And last, not least, good-by to Tommie? No. The writer gave Tommie his + dinner not half an hour since, and is too fond of him to say good-by. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of My Lady’s Money, by Wilkie Collins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY LADY’S MONEY *** + +***** This file should be named 1628-h.htm or 1628-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/1628/ + +Produced by James Rusk and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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