The Moving Finger Part 34

"Come," Saton continued, "you are not very kind to me, Lois. You are not very kind to the man whom you are going to marry, whom you have said that you love. It has been very lonely these last few days, Lois.

You have not come to me. I have watched for you often."

"I could not come," she answered. "Lady Mary has been with me all the time. I think that she suspects."

"Surely you are clever enough," he answered, "to outwit a little simpleton like that. Has Rochester been interfering?"

"If he knew that I even spoke to you," she answered, "I think that he would send me away."

"It is not kind of them," he said, "to be so bitter against me."

She shrank from him.

"If they knew!" she said. "If they only knew that I even thought of marrying you, or--or--"

Saton shrugged his shoulders.

"Ah, well," he said, "they know as much as it is well for them to know! After all, you see, no harm has happened to your guardian. I saw him to-day, on his way home from hunting. He looked strong and well enough. Tell me, Lois," he continued, "has he had any visitors from London the last few days? I don't mean guests--I mean people to see him on business?"

"Not that I know of," she answered. "Why?"

Saton's face darkened.

"It is he, I am sure," he said, "who is interfering in my concerns.

Never mind, Lois, we will not talk about that, dear. Give me your hand. We are engaged, you know. You should be glad to have these few minutes with me."

Her fingers which he clasped were like ice. He was puzzled at her att.i.tude.

"A month ago," he said softly, "you did not find it such a hards.h.i.+p to spend a little time alone with me."

"A month ago," she answered, "I had not seen you on your knees with a gun, seen your white face, heard the report, and seen Mr. Rochester fall. I had not seen you steal away through the bracken. Oh, it was terrible! You looked like a murderer! I shall never, never forget it."

He laughed softly.

"These things are fancies," he said--"dreams. You will forget them, my dear Lois. You will forget them very soon."

They entered the house, and in the hall he drew her into his arms. She wrenched herself free, and crouched back in the corner, with her hands stretched out in front of her face.

"Don't!" she cried. "Don't! If you kiss me, I shall go mad. Can't you see that I don't want to come with you, that I don't want to be with you? You shall let me go! You must let me go!"

He stood frowning a few feet away. To tell the truth, he was honestly puzzled at her att.i.tude. At last, with a little shrug of the shoulders, he threw open the door of the sitting-room.

"Rachael," he said, "Lois has come to see you for a few minutes."

Lois went timidly into the room. Rachael, with a shawl around her shoulders, was sitting in front of a huge fire. She turned her head and held out her long withered hand, as usual covered with rings.

"Sit opposite me, child. Let me look at you."

Lois sat down, gazing with fascinated eyes at the woman whose presence she found almost as terrifying as the presence of Saton himself.

"My son--I call Bertrand my son," she said, "because I have adopted him, and because everything I have, even my name if he will have it--will be his--my son, then, tells me that he has not seen you for several days."

"It is very difficult," Lois said, trembling.

"Why?" Rachael asked.

"My guardian, Mr. Rochester, does not allow Bertrand to come to the house," Lois said, hesitatingly, "and Lady Mary tries not to let me come out alone."

Rachael nodded her head slowly, her eyes glittered in the firelight.

Wrapped in her black shawl, she looked like some quaint effigy--something scarcely human.

"Your guardian and his wife," she said, "are foolish, ignorant people.

They do not understand such men as Bertrand. You will understand him, child. You will know him better when he is your husband, know him better, and be proud of him. Is it not so?"

"I--I suppose so," Lois said.

"I am glad that you came this afternoon," Rachael continued. "Bertrand and I have been talking. We think it well that you should be married very soon."

"I am not of age," Lois said, breathlessly.

"It does not matter," Rachael declared. "Your guardian can keep back your money, but that is of no consequence. It will come to you in time, and Bertrand has plenty himself. I am afraid that they might try and tempt you to be faithless to my son. You are very young and impressionable, and though I do not doubt but that you are fond of him, it is not easy to be faithful when you are alone, and with such people as Mr. Rochester and Lady Mary. I am going to London in a few days. I think it would be well if you went with me. Bertrand could get a special license, and you could be married at once."

"No!" she shrieked. "No! No!"

Rachael said nothing. Her lips moved, but no sound came. Only her eyes flashed unutterable things.

Upon the somewhat hysterical silence came the sound of Saton's voice--cold, decisive.

"Lois," he said, "what my mother has advised would make me very happy.

Will you remember that I wish it? Will you remember that?"

"Yes!" she faltered.

"I shall make you a good husband," he added, coming a little nearer to her, sinking on one knee by her side, and taking her cold, unresisting hands into his. "I shall make you a good husband, and I think that you will be happy. We cannot go on like this. I only see you now by stealth. It must come to an end."

"Yes!" she faltered.

"Next time we meet," he continued, "I will tell you what plans we have made."

She turned her head slowly, and looked at him with frightened, wide-open eyes.

"Why?" she asked. "Why do you want me to marry you? You do not care for me. You do not care for me at all. Is it because I am rich? But you--you are rich yourselves. I would offer you my money, but you cannot want that."

He smiled enigmatically.

"No!" he said. "Money is a good thing, but we have money ourselves.

Don't you believe, Lois," he added, bending towards her, "that I am fond of you?"

"Oh! yes," she answered, "if you say so!"