A Drake by George! Part 47

"So I've got you up at last! You threw your bag into my window last night, so I throw stones into your window this morning. It's what they call the _lextalionis_."

"Please go away! I'm not dressed yet," she called.

"I'm waiting to hear your explanation, and I'm going to stand here, in this very same place where I was first beguiled by your deceitful face at the window, when you sat and worked a sewing machine, like that lady in the Bible who got pushed out and trodden underfoot," said George wrathfully; for during the night a suspicion of the truth had reached him.

"I'd better get it over at once," Nellie murmured. Then she wrapped herself in the quilt and approached the window.

"Here I am!" she said brightly.

"What a nasty, hostile, ungrateful expression. And you ought to be in a white sheet instead of that scarlet quilt," said George bitterly.

"Well, you shouldn't be so rude as to throw stones at me. They were not pebbles either."

"It's my house and my window. Why have you come back?"

"Because I wanted to."

"That's a woman's answer. Did you give your address to that wicked little girl who answers to the name of Teenie?"

"I might have."

"That's another woman's answer. Did that young man who wallows in vice write to you?"

"A young gentleman known here as Sidney Brock did write to me."

"That's the sort of confession a woman does make. And you actually replied? You had no shame whatever?"

"I sent an answer."

"Then came!"

"And saw and conquered," she murmured happily.

"What are you muttering about?"

"I suppose you would call them my sins. But, if you speak to me again like that, I shall shut the window," Nellie replied with spirit.

"I'm blest if she isn't going to argue," George mumbled. "I don't want to be hard upon you, young woman, but I can't have this sort of thing,"

he went on sternly. "You desert my dear old aunt, and come back here, and rush into bad company, and you don't even ask my permission. I'm a liberal and broad-minded chap, but I can't stand that."

"How are you going to prevent it?"

"By a.s.serting myself, by putting my foot down. Here am I working and toiling for you. I have sent Robert and Bessie away for a well-earned holiday, and presently vans will be coming for the furniture. It's all for you. I don't think of myself at all. I'm saving the furniture, and handing it over to you at great expense, while you are breaking my heart by making appointments with young Mormons in the dark, and going to such a place as Black Anchor at dead of night, and staying there till morning. That sort of conduct makes men commit murder and suicide, and other things they are sorry for afterwards. But I'm not a criminal, and I'm not pa.s.sionate. I'm practical, and cool, and--and amiable. I have taken quite a fancy to you, Nellie. Other people don't think much of you, but I can see you have good qualities, only you won't show them.

Now I want you to tell me why you wrote to young Sidney, and why you met him last night. Be very careful how you answer, as the whole of your future happiness may depend on it."

"I wanted to clear up the mystery," she said.

"There is no mystery about shameful wickedness. Being about to marry a respectable gentleman, who bears a highly honoured name, upon the last day of this month--"

"Oh, stop! Do please!" cried Nellie appealingly. "We are only playing.

We have been fooling all along, and you must have known it. I was always laughing and teasing--have you ever seen me serious, as I am now?"

"You don't mean to tell me you are trying to get out of it--you are not going to keep your promise?"

"What was my promise?"

"That you would marry me on the last day of this month."

"It wasn't put like that. I promised, in fun, to marry you on the thirty-first of September, and, of course, I thought you would have seen through that joke long ago."

"I suppose the point of the joke is that you mean to become a Mormon?"

"There is no thirty-first of September. And I am going to become a Mormon, if you like to put it that way, for I am engaged to Sidney Brock."

"And I'll tell you what I am going to do," George shouted. "I'm going to jilt you."

"Thanks so much," laughed Nellie.

George stalked out of the garden, and was not seen again until Sidney and Nellie had departed, and big vans had drawn up beside Windward House to the wonder and dismay of all the village. Then he revisited the scenes of his former triumphs and issued certain orders to the packers.

After that he hurried off to the town and visited an auctioneer.

Returning to Highfield, he pa.s.sed behind Robert's cottage, demolished the peatstack, and brought to light the musical box, the silver candlesticks, and all the rest of the purloined articles. These were deposited in the vans.

A hostile crowd had collected, but George took no heed of anyone; not even the Wallower in Wealth who sought ineffectually to obtain possession of the musical box by force and without payment. The unhappy Dyer had his eyes opened to the exceeding perfidy of his lodger, but he dared not open his mouth as well.

The following day bills were posted about the neighbourhood, announcing a sale to be held at short notice, in the market hall of the town, of the valuable furniture and remarkable antiquities formerly in the possession of Captain Francis Drake, by order of the Executor of the will of Mrs. Drake deceased.

"I'm sorry for Aunt Sophy, but she ought to have kept out of bad company," was George's only comment.

CHAPTER XX

THE GLEANERS

When Bessie and Robert returned to Highfield; when the people discovered how the light railway, which originally had been a matter of electricity, and then had degenerated into an affair of steam, was in fact a proposal of gas entirely; when Windward House remained empty and unswept, with the giant tortoise lord of the manor; and when the n.i.g.g.ardly Dyer was attacked on all sides as the confederate of the public enemy--there unfortunately existed no genius of the lamp competent to continue the parochial record from the point where Captain Drake had closed it. Genii of the lantern undoubtedly did exist, and these made another story, a kind of fairy tale, which was not told outside the village. All the water was spilt near the pump. n.o.body took part in the revolution which followed, causing an alteration in the landscape; at least n.o.body in particular; but there was not a man, woman, or child of destructive age who did not give a hand towards the general rubbing of the lamp. When the furniture failed to arrive at the banks of the Drivel, and inquiry elicited the fact that all had pa.s.sed into the hands of dealers, Kezia fell into a state of melancholy which not even her favourite Sunday walk around the cemetery was able to relieve; and when the cruel truth of George's una.s.sailable t.i.tle to Windward House was broken gently room by room, despondency increased upon her to such an extent that she actually paid a visit to the electric theatre.

Miss Yard laughed merrily at the humorous idea of buying new furniture, and told everybody about her provincial escape from the fire which had destroyed everything she possessed, and how a young gentleman called Sidney had rescued her from the flames at great personal risk. She was so grateful that she suggested he might become engaged to Nellie, and he had done so at once; which showed how absurd it was to say that young men of the present day were rude and disobedient. Of course it was understood that the engagement was only to continue during her lifetime.

As for Nellie, she breathed a great sigh of relief. The loss of the furniture might be a serious matter, so far as Kezia's future and Miss Yard's banking account were concerned; but it meant the total eclipse of George. He could not show his face either in Highfield or Drivelford; he had done for himself completely. She refused to listen to Sidney's proposal of instructing Hunter to inst.i.tute proceedings.

"By doing nothing we get rid of him for ever," she said.

"Anyhow, we can take action against the people who bought the things,"

he urged.

"We shall do nothing of the kind. It would worry the old lady into her grave; and I believe that's your object."