The Vicar's People Part 90

She knew the sound. She had heard it more than once, when he had been waiting for her down by Wheal Carnac when it was in ruins, and now he was waiting for her again by this ruined pit--for what?

For a moment her heart beat wildly, and her imagination told her that, perhaps, after all, he had come in love to ask her forgiveness, and to take her once more to his breast.

Then the tumultuous beating gradually grew calmer and then nearly stopped, as a chill of horror seized upon her. It was not in love that he had come, but in hate; and trembling, and with her brow wet with terror, she crept softly back, reached the path, and descended its dangerous steep to the sh.o.r.e, crept cautiously along and by the mouth of the old adit, hardly daring to pa.s.s it, lest the sound of her step should go up to where Tregenna was watching for her a couple of hundred yards away, and ended by reaching the other path down which she had frantically run to cast herself into the sea, glided softly up it, reaching the regular cliff way again; and then, but always with the dread upon her that Tregenna was in pursuit, she hurried onwards towards Carnac churchtown.

The poor girl s.h.i.+vered as she pa.s.sed the lane leading up to the cottage, and there was a longing, yearning look in her eyes as she turned them in that direction; but she kept steadily on till she reached the gate at An Morlock, where, after a little hesitation on the part of the servant, she was admitted, and at length shown into the drawing-room, where Rhoda stood, cold and stern, silently regarding her, and with her eyes seeming to do all the questioning part.

For a time they stood gazing at each other, till Rhoda, from her proud position of vantage, began to feel that there was strength in the standing-place of her erring sister--the strength that comes from being hedged round by weakness; and, after a few minutes' silence, there was that in Madge's large eyes and pallid face that quite disarmed her. The stern, harsh manner pa.s.sed away, and she placed a chair for her visitor.

"Will you sit down?" she said softly.

Those few gently-uttered words affected Madge strangely. She took a couple of steps forward, and then in an instant she was at Rhoda's feet clinging to the skirt of her dress, and sobbing as if her heart would break. So violent was her agitation that Rhoda grew at length alarmed, and had serious thoughts of summoning a.s.sistance; but, on trying to move to the bell, she found Madge clinging to her tightly.

"No, no," sobbed Madge, "don't leave me--don't go away till you have heard all, and tried to forgive me. Oh, Miss Penwynn, why do you hate me? Why do you think such evil of me as you do?"

"I think evil of you?" said Rhoda, with a touch of scorn in her voice that she could not repress. "Madge Mullion, you had pa.s.sed out of my thoughts."

"It is false," cried Madge, looking up sharply. "You think of me every day, and hate me because you think I came between you and your lover."

"Have you come here to insult me--to tell me this?" cried Rhoda, trying to release her skirt.

"To tell you, not to insult you," said Madge, clinging the more tightly as she felt Rhoda's efforts to get free. "It is I who ought to reproach you, who are blind and mistaken; it is you who have come between me and mine."

"Will you loose my dress?" panted Rhoda, growing excited now; "will you leave me?"

"Not till I have told you all," cried Madge. "Miss Penwynn, I don't think I have long to live. I could not tell you a lie."

"It was mad and foolish to let you be admitted," cried Rhoda, angrily.

"You wicked girl, I thought you had come to me for help, and I would not send you empty away, but you insult me for my forbearance."

"No," said Madge, hoa.r.s.ely. "I came to help you, not to ask for help.

I feel free to speak now, and I tell you, Rhoda Penwynn, that you have cast away the truest man who ever saw the light."

"You wicked girl! Go: leave me," panted Rhoda. "I will not listen;"

but she struggled less hard.

"You shall listen for his sake, if I die in saying it," panted Madge, as she twisted the stout silk more tightly in her hands, "Mr Trethick never said word of love to me. He never looked even lovingly in my eyes, though, in my pique, I tried to make him, for he loved you too well."

"It is false--he sends you here to insult me," panted Rhoda, "and to plead for him. I will have you turned from the house."

"It is true," cried Madge; "and you turn from this true, honest gentleman, whose clear, transparent heart you might read at a glance."

"This is unbearable," cried Rhoda, bending down and catching at Madge's hands, to try and tear them from her dress.

"You may beat me and fight as hard as you like," cried Madge. "I am weak and helpless; but I can cling to you till you have heard, and you shall hear all."

"I will not--I can not hear it; it is too late," cried Rhoda, ceasing to drag at Madge's hands, and once more trying to leave the room.

But, though she struggled hard, she found that she only drew Madge over upon her face, and that the poor creature clung to her more tightly than ever.

"It is too late; I can not--I will not hear you;" and she stood with her fingers thrust into her ears.

Madge turned her face up to her sidewise, and a sad smile trembled about her thin, pale lips as she said softly,--

"You must hear me--you cannot help hearing me; and it is not too late.

I tell you that you threw aside that true-hearted gentleman, who is all that is manly and good, and now you have stepped into my place, to take to your heart my betrayer, the father of my poor, helpless babe."

Rhoda's hands dropped to her sides. She had heard every word, and, unable to resist the desire to know more, she went down upon her knees, caught Madge by the shoulders and gazed fiercely in her eyes.

"This is not true," she cried. "Wicked, false woman, you have come to blacken Mr Tregenna's character to me."

"Blacken his character!" cried Madge, half scornfully. "You have lived here all your life, and know all that I knew before I weakly listened to his lying words, thinking that I was so different from others who had gone before. Tell me, Rhoda Penwynn, would what I say make his character much blacker than it is?"

Rhoda groaned, and her hands left Madge's shoulders to clasp each other, while she raised herself once more erect, to stand with her broad forehead knotted and wrinkled by her thoughts.

"And yet you listen to him--you consent to be his wife," continued Madge. "Oh, Miss Penwynn, if not for my sake, for your own, don't let me leave you to-night feeling that my journey has been in vain."

"It is not true," cried Rhoda, rousing herself once more, and speaking with stubborn determination not to believe the words she heard, and fighting hard against her heart, which was appealing so hard for the man she really loved. "Get up. Leave this house."

Madge stood up now angrily, and faced her.

"Yes," she said, "I'll go, but you have heard the truth; and I'll come between you at the church, and claim him, for he swore that I, and I only, should be his wife."

"I'll not believe it," cried Rhoda, pa.s.sionately. "Oh, would to G.o.d I could!" she moaned.

"You do believe it," continued Madge.

"No, no; I'll not believe it," cried Rhoda. "Mr Trethick must have sent you here."

The next minute she was gazing down at John Tregenna's ghastly face, as he lay where he had fallen, while Madge was looking at him cold, stern, and unmoved.

"Do you believe me now?" said Madge.

Rhoda did not answer, but stared in a horrified way from one to the other, as Mr Penwynn and a couple of the servants came hurrying in; and when they had succeeded in reviving the fallen man, Madge had quietly left the house.

"Let me go home," said Tregenna, hoa.r.s.ely, as his eyes wandered round the room in a curiously wild manner. Mr Penwynn spoke to him, but he only shuddered and shook his head, repeating his request so earnestly that he was a.s.sisted home, and Dr Rumsey pa.s.sed the rest of the night by his side.

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

GEOFFREY'S BOAST.

"Well, Mr Paul," said Geoffrey, speaking in his bluff, frank way; "I said I would never come back to this house till you sent for me, and I have kept my word."

"Yes, yes," cried the old man, shaking his hand warmly. "I have sent few you--G.o.d bless you, boy. I am glad to see you here again."

"Good heavens!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Geoffrey, for poor Mrs Mullion had thrown her arms round his neck, kissed him, and laid her head upon his shoulder, sobbing as if her heart would break. "Mrs Mullion," he continued, putting his arm round her and patting her shoulder, "come, come, come, be a woman, and let's talk and see if we can't put this unhappy affair all right."