Cursed by a Fortune Part 36

"My brother? No; he would have come straight in here."

"Your brother? Tchah, no!" cried the woman, forgetting her "chronics"

in the interest she felt in the fresh subject. "You're always thinking about your brother, and if's time you began to think of a husband. I meant him at the Manor--young Claud Wilton. He's come back."

"Come back?" cried Jenny excitedly.

"Yes; but I hear he arn't brought his young missus with him. Nice goings on, running away, them two, to get married. But I arn't surprised; he fell out with the parson long enough ago about Sally Deal, down the village, and parson give it him well for not marrying her.

Wouldn't be married here out o' spite, I suppose. Well, I must go.

You're sure you haven't got a drop o' gin in the house?"

"Quite sure," said Jenny quickly; "and I'll be sure and tell my brother to come."

"Ay, do; and tell him I say it's a shame he lives so far out of the village. I feel sometimes that I shall die in one of the ditches before I get here, it's so far. There, don't hurry me so; I don't want to be took ill here. I know, doctors aren't above helping people out of the world when they get tired of them."

"Gone!" cried Jenny at last, with a sigh of relief; and then, with the tears rising to her eyes, "Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? If they meet--if he ever gets to know!"

She hurried upstairs, put on her hat and jacket, and came down looking pale and excited, but without any very definite plans. One idea was foremost in her mind; but as she reached the door she caught sight of her brother coming with rapid strides from the direction opposite to that taken by the old woman who had just gone.

"Too late!" she said, with a piteous sigh; and she ran upstairs hurriedly, and threw off her things.

She had hardly re-arranged her hair when she heard her brother's voice calling her.

"Yes, dear," she said, and she ran down, to find him looking ghastly.

"Who was that went away from here?" he said huskily.

She told him, but not of her promise to send him over.

"I'll go to her at once," he said.

"No, no, Pierce, dear; she is not ill. Pray stay at home; there is really no need."

"Why should I stay at home?" he said, looking at her suspiciously.

"I--I am not very well, dear. You have been so dull, it has upset me.

I wish you would stay in with me this evening; I feel so nervous and lonely."

"Yes, I will," he said; "but I must go there first."

"No, no, dear; don't, please, don't go," she pleaded, as she caught his arm. "Please stay. She is not in the least ill, and I want you to stop. There, I'll make some tea directly, and we'll sit over it and have a long cosy chat, and it will do us both good, dear."

"Jenny," he cried harshly, "you want to keep me at home."

"Yes, dear, I told you so; but don't speak in that harsh way; you frighten me."

"I'm not blind," he cried. "Don't deny it. You've heard from that old woman what I have just found out. He has come back."

"Pierce!" she cried; and she shrank away from him, and covered her face with her hands.

"Yes," he said wildly, and there was a look in his ghastly face which she had never seen before. "I knew it; and you are afraid that I shall meet him and wring his miserable neck."

"Oh, Pierce, Pierce," she cried piteously, as she threw herself at his feet; "don't, don't, pray don't talk in this mad way."

"Why not?" he said, with a mocking laugh. "It is consistent. There, get up; don't kneel there praying to a madman."

She sprang up quickly and seized him by the shoulder, and then threw herself across his knees and her arms about his neck.

"It is not true," she cried pa.s.sionately. "You are not mad; you are only horribly angry, and I am frightened to death for fear that you should meet and be violent."

"Violent! I could kill him!" he muttered, with a hard look in his eyes.

"Good G.o.d, what a profanation! He marry her! She must have been mad, or there has been some cruel act of violence. Jenny, girl, I will see him and take him by the throat and make him tell me all. I have fought against it. I have told myself that she is unworthy of a second thought, but my heart tells me that it is not so. There has been some horrible trick played upon her; she would not--as you have said--she could not have gone off of her own will with that miserable little hound."

"Yes, yes, that is what I think," she said, hysterically. "So wait patiently, dear, and we shall know the truth some day."

"Wait!" he cried, with a mocking laugh. "Wait! With my brain feeling as if it were on fire. No, I have waited too long; I ought to have gone off after him at once, and learned the truth."

"No, no, dear; you two must not meet. Now then, listen to me."

"Some day, little bird," he said, lifting her from his knee, as he rose; then kissing her tenderly he extricated himself from her clinging hands as gently as he could, and rushed out.

"O, Pierce, Pierce!" she cried. "Stay, stay!"

But the only answer to her call as she ran to the door was the heavy beat of his feet in the gloom of the misty evening.

"And if they meet he'll find out all," she wailed piteously. She paused, waiting for a few moments, and then searched in her pocket and brought out a tiny silver whistle, which she placed in the bosom of her dress, after flinging the ribbon which was in its ring over her head.

A minute later, with her cloak thrown on and hood drawn over her head, she had slipped out of the cottage, and was running down the by-lane in the direction of the Manor House.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

The soft light of the moon attracted Kate to her bedroom window, where she drew up the blind, and after standing gazing at the silvery orb for some minutes, she unfastened and threw open the cas.e.m.e.nt, drew a chair forward, to sit there letting the soft air of the late autumn night give its coolness to her aching brow.

For the silence and calm seemed to bring rest, and by degrees the dull throbbing of her head grew less painful, the strange feeling of confusion which had made thinking a terrible effort began to pa.s.s away, and with her eyes fixed upon the skies she began to go over the events of the day, and to try and map out for herself the most sensible course to pursue. Go from Northwood she felt that she must, and at once; though how to combat the will of her const.i.tuted guardian was not clear.

Garstang, in his encounter with Wilton, had put the case only too plainly, and there was not the vestige of a doubt in her mind as to the truth of his words. It had all been arranged in the family, and whatever might have been her cousin's inclinations at first, he showed only too plainly that he looked upon her as his future wife.

She shuddered at the thought; but the weak girl pa.s.sed away again, and her pale cheeks began to burn once more with indignant anger, and the throbbing of her brow returned, so that she was glad to rest her head upon her hand.

By degrees the suffering grew less poignant, and as the pain and mental confusion once more died out she set herself to the task of coming to some decision as to what she should do next day, proposing to herself plan after plan, building up ideas which crumbled away before that one thought: her uncle was her guardian and trustee, and his power over her was complete.

What to do?--what to do? The ever recurring question, till she felt giddy.

It seemed, knowing what he did, the height of cruelty for Garstang to have gone and left her, but she was obliged to own that he could do nothing more than upbraid his relatives for their duplicity.

But he had done much for her; he had thoroughly endorsed her own ideas as to her position and her uncle's intentions; and at last, with the tears suffusing her eyes, as she gazed at the moon rising slowly above the trees, she sat motionless for a time, thinking of her happy life in the past; and owning to herself that the advice given to her was right, she softly closed the cas.e.m.e.nt, drew down the blind, and determined to follow out the counsel.

"Yes, I must sleep on it--if I can," she said softly. "Poor Liza is right, and I am not quite alone--I am never alone, for in spirit those who loved me so well must be with me still."