Volume Four—Chapter Four.
Stephen Crellock is Communicative.
“No hurry, Steve, my lad,” said Hallam, as he turned over the newspaper that had come in by the last mail, and threw one of his booted legs upon a chair.
Crellock was leaning against the chimney-piece of the room Hallam called his study; but one, which in place of books was filled with fishing and shooting gear, saddles, bridles, and hunting whips, from that usually adopted for riding, to the heavy implement so terrible in a stockman’s hands.
The man had completely lost all his old prison look; and the obedient, servile manner that distinguished him, when, years before, he had been Hallam’s willing tool in iniquity, had gone. He had developed into a sturdy, independent, restless being, with whom it would be dangerous to trifle, and Robert Hallam had felt for some time that he really was master no longer.
Crellock had dressed himself evidently for a ride. He was booted and spurred; wore tightly-fitting breeches and jacket, and a broad-brimmed felt hat was thrust back on his curly hair, as he stood beating his boot with his riding-whip, and tucking bits of his crisp beard between his white teeth to bite.
“What do you say? No hurry?”
“Yes,” said Hallam, rustling his paper. “No hurry, my lad: plenty of time.”
“You think so, do you?”
“To be sure. There, go and have your ride. I’ve got some fresh champagne just come in by the Cross. We’ll try that to-day.”
“Hang your champagne! I’ve come to talk business,” said Crellock, sternly. “You think there’s no hurry, do you? Well, look here, I think there is, and I’m not going to wait.”
“Nonsense! Don’t talk like a boy.”
“No: I’ll talk like a man, Robert Hallam. A man don’t improve by keeping. I shall do now; by-and-by perhaps I shan’t. I’m double her age and more.”
“Oh! yes, I know all about that,” said Hallam, impatiently; “but there’s plenty of time.”
“I say there is not, and I’m going to have it settled. Your wife hates me. I’m not blind, and she’ll set Julie against me all she can.”
“I’m master here.”
“Then show it, Rob Hallam, and quickly, before there’s a row. I tell you it wants doing; she’s easily led now she’s so young; but I’m not blind.”
“You said that before; what do you mean?”
“That soldier Eaton; he’s hankering after her, and if we don’t mind, she’ll listen to him. It’s only your being an old hand that keeps him back from asking for her.”
“Well, well, let it go, and I’ll see about it by-and-by,” said Hallam. “Have patience.”
“A man at my time of life can’t have patience, Rob. Now come, you know I want the girl, and it will be like tying us more tightly together.”
“And put a stop to the risk of your telling tales,” said Hallam, bitterly.
“I’m not the man to tell tales,” said Crellock, sturdily, “neither am I the man for you to make an enemy.”
“Threatening?”
“No, but I’m sure you wouldn’t care to go back to the gang and on the road, Robert Hallam. Such a good man as your wife and child think you are!”
“Hold your tongue, will you?” cried Hallam savagely.
“When I please,” replied Crellock. “Oh! come, you needn’t look so fierce, old chap. I used to think what a wonder you were, and wish I could be as cool and clever, and—”
“Well?” for the other stopped.
“Oh! nothing; only I don’t think so now.”
“Look here,” said Hallam, throwing aside the paper impatiently, “what do you want?”
“Julia.”
“You mean you want to try if she’ll listen to you.”
“No, I don’t. I mean I want her, and I mean to have her, and half share.”
“And if I say it’s impossible?”
“But you won’t,” said Crellock coolly.
Hallam sat back, frowning and biting his nails, while the other slowly beat his boot with his whip.
At last Hallam’s brow cleared, and he said in a quiet, easy way:
“She might do better, Steve; but I won’t stand in your way. Only the thing must come about gently. Talk to the girl. You shall have chances. I don’t want any scenes with her or her mother, or any flying to that old man or the parson to help her. It must be worked quietly.”
“All right. Order the horses round, and let her go for a ride with me this morning.”
Mrs Hallam was ready to object, but she gave way, and Julia went for a ride with Crellock, passing Sir Gordon’s cottage, and then riding right away into the open country. The girl had developed into a splendid horsewoman, and at last, when she had forgotten her dislike to her companion in the excitement and pleasure of the exercise, and the horses were well breathed and walking up an ascent, Crellock, on the principle that he had no time to spare, tried to forward his position.
“I say, Miss Julia,” he said, taking off his broad hat, and fanning his face, as they rode on in the bright sunshine, “do you remember when you first came over?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And meeting me as I was carried out of the prison on the stretcher?”
Julia looked at him, her eyes dilating with horror as the whole scene came back.
“Don’t,” she said hoarsely, “it is too horrible to think of? Such cruelty is dreadful.”
“I don’t consider it too horrible to think of,” he said smiling. “I’m always looking back on that day and seeing it all, every bit. That poor wretch shrieking out with pain.”
“Mr Crellock!” cried Julia.
“Yes! me. Not hardly able to move himself, or bear his pain, and half mad with thirst.”
“Oh, pray, hush!”
“Not I, my dear,” continued Crellock, “and out of it all I can see coming through the sunshine a bright angel to hold water up to my lips, and wipe the sweat of agony off my brow.”
“Mr Crellock! I cannot bear to listen to all this.”
“But you could bear to look at it all, and do it, bless you!” said the man warmly. “That day I swore something, and I’m going to keep my oath.”
“Don’t talk about it any more, please,” said Julia imploringly.
“If you don’t wish me to, I won’t,” said Crellock smiling. “I do want to talk to you though about a lot of things, and one is about the drink.”
Julia looked at him wonderingly.
“Yes, about the drink,” continued Crellock; “the old man drinks too much.”
Julia’s face contracted.
“And I’ve been a regular brute lately, my dear. You see it has been such a temptation after being kept from it for years. I haven’t been able to stop myself. It isn’t nice for a young girl like you to see a man drunk, is it?”
Julia shook her head.
“Then I shan’t never get drunk again. I’ll only take a little.”
“Oh! I am so glad,” cried Julia with girlish eagerness.
“Are you?” he said smiling, “then so am I. That’s settled then. I want to be as decent as I can. You see you’re such a good religious girl, Miss Julia, while I’m such a bad one.”
“But you could be better.”
“Could I? I don’t like being a hypocrite. I’m not ashamed to own that I was a bad one, and got into all that trouble in the old country.”
“Oh! hush, please. You did wrong, and were punished for it. Now all that is passed and forgiven.”
“I always said you were an angel,” said Crellock earnestly, “and you are.”
“Nonsense! Let us talk of something else.”
“No: let’s talk about that. I want to stand fair and square with you, and I don’t want you to think me a humbug and a hypocrite.”
“Mr Crellock, I never thought so well of you before,” said Julia warmly. “Your promise of amendment has made me feel so happy.”
“Has it?” he cried eagerly, but with a rough kind of respect mingled with his admiration. “So it has me. I mean it—that I do. You shall never see me the worse for drink again.”
“And you will attend more to the business, then?”
“What business?” he said.
“The business that you and my father carry on.”
“The business that I and your father carry on?”
“Yes, the speculations about the seals and the oil.”
Crellock stared at her. “Why, what have you got in your pretty little head?” he said at last.
“I only alluded to the business in which you and my father are partners.”
“Pooh!” cried Crellock, with a sort of laugh. “What nonsense it is of him! Why, my dear, you are not a child now. After all the trouble you and your mother went through. You are a clever, thoughtful little woman, and he ought to have taken you into his confidence.”
“What do you mean?” cried Julia, for she felt dazed.
“Your father! What’s the use of a man like him—an old hand—setting himself up as a saint, and playing innocent? It isn’t my way. As you say, when one has done wrong and suffered punishment, and is whitewashed—”
“Mr Crellock,” said Julia, flushing, “I cannot misunderstand your allusions; but if you dare to insinuate that my poor father was guilty of any wrong-doing before he suffered, it is disgraceful, and it is not true.”
Crellock looked at her admiringly.
“Bless you!” he said warmly. “I didn’t think you had so much spirit in you. Now be calm, my dear; there’s nothing worse than being a sham—a hypocrite. I never was. I always owned up to what I had done. Your father never did.”
“My father never did anything wrong!” cried Julia.
Crellock smiled.
“Come, I should like us to begin by being well in each other’s confidence,” he said as he leaned over and patted the arching neck of Julia’s mare. “You must know it, so what’s the use of making a pretence about it to me?”
“I do not understand you,” said Julia indignantly.
“Not understand me? Why, my dear girl, you know your father was transported for life?”
“Do I know it?” cried Julia, with an indignant flash of her eyes.
“Yes, of course you do. Well, what was it for?”
“Because appearances were cruelly against him,” cried Julia.
“They were,” said Crellock dryly.
“Because his friends doubted him, consequent upon the conduct of a man he trusted,” said Julia bitterly.
“I never knew your father trust any one, Miss Julia, and I knew him before he went to King’s Castor. We were clerks in the same office.”
“He trusted you,” cried Julia indignantly; “and you deceived him, and he suffered for your wicked sin.”
She struck the mare with her whip, and it would have dashed off, but Crellock was smoothing her mane above the reins, and as they tightened they came into his hand, and he checked the little animal which began to rear.
“Quiet! quiet!” cried Crellock fiercely; and he held the mare back with ears twitching and nostril quivering.
“Let my rein go,” cried Julia.
“Wait a bit; I’ve a lot to say to you yet, my dear,” cried Crellock indignantly. “Look here. Did your father say that?”
“Yes; and you know it is true.”
“I say again, did your father say that to your mother?”
“Yes,” indignantly.
“Then that’s why she has always shown me such a stiff upper lip, and been so bitter against me. I wouldn’t have stopped in her house a day, she was so hard on me, only I wanted to be near you, and to think about that day coming out of the prison. Well, of all the mean, cowardly things for a man to do!”
“My father is no coward. You dare not speak to him like that.”
“I dare say a deal more to him, and I will if he runs me down before you and your mother, when I wanted to show you I wasn’t such a bad one after all. It’s mean,” he cried, working himself up. “It’s cowardly. But it’s just like him. When that robbery took place before, he escaped and I took the blame.”
“Loose my rein!” cried Julia. “Man, you are mad.”
“See here,” cried Crellock, catching her arm, and looking white with rage. “I’ll take my part; but I’m not going to have the credit of the Dixons’ business put on to my shoulders. I’m not a hypocrite, Miss Julia. I’ve done wrong, as I said before, and was punished. There, it’s of no use for you to struggle. I mean you to hear. I want to stand well with you. I always did after you gave me that drink of water, and now I find I’ve been made out to be a regular bad one, so as some one else may get off.”
“Will you loose my rein?” cried Julia.
“No, I won’t. Now you are going to call out for help?”
“No,” cried Julia. “I’m not such a coward as to be afraid of you.”
“That you are not,” he said admiringly, in spite of the passion he was in. “Now once more tell me this. I’ll believe you. You never told a lie, and you never would. Is this a sham to back up your father?”
She did not answer, only gave him a haughtily indignant look.
“Do you mean to tell me you don’t know that your father did all that Dixons’ business himself?”
“I know it is false.”
“And that I only did what he told me, and planted the deeds at the different banks?”
“It is false, I tell you.”
“You’re making me savage,” he cried in his blundering way. “I tell you I’m not such a brute. Look here once more. Do you mean to tell me that you don’t know that we have all been living on what he—your father—got from Dixons’ bank?”
“How dare you!” cried Julia, scarlet with anger.
“And that you and your mother brought over the plunder when you came?”
For answer, Julia struck his hand with her whip, giving so keen a cut that he loosened his hold, and she went off like the wind towards home.
“What a fool I was to talk like that!” he cried biting his lips, as he set spurs to his horse and galloped off in pursuit. “I’ve been talking like a madman. It all comes of being regularly in love.”