Volume Four—Chapter Fourteen.
For Julie.
“Where are you going?” said Crellock roughly, as prowling about the verandah, in pursuance of a determination to take care that there should be no further interference with his plans, he carefully watched the place, ready to refuse entrance, in Hallam’s name, to every one who came till he had made sure of his prize.
It was very early in the morning, and he had come suddenly upon Thisbe, dressed for going out, and with a bundle under her arm.
“Into town,” she said sharply.
“What for?”
“To stay.”
“It’s a lie!” he said. “You are going to take a message to that parson, or the lieutenant. You have a letter.”
“No, I haven’t,” said Thisbe, looking harder than ever.
“What’s in that bundle?”
“Clothes. Want to see ’em? You can look.”
“Come, no nonsense, Thisbe! You don’t like me, I know.”
“I hate the sight of you!” said the woman stoutly. “So you may; but look here, you may as well understand that in future I shall be master here, and for your own sake you had better be friends. Now then, where are you going?”
“Into town, I tell you; and I shall send for my box. It’s corded up in my room.”
“Why, what do you mean?” he said.
“That I’m going, and I’m not coming back; and you two may drink yourselves to death as soon as you like.”
She brushed by him, and before he had recovered from his surprise, she was going down the path towards the gate.
A thought struck Crellock, and he ran upstairs to the room Thisbe had occupied, and, sure enough, there was the big chest she had brought with her, corded up tightly, and with a direction-card tacked on, addressed, “Miss Thisbe King. To be called for.”
“So much the better,” he said joyously; “that woman had some influence with Mrs Hallam, and might have been unpleasant.”
That day he went down the town to one of his haunts, and after a good deal of search found out that Thisbe was in the place, and had taken a small cottage in one of the outskirts. So, satisfied with his discovery, he returned, to find a man with a pony and dray on his way up to the house, where he claimed the box for its owner, and soon after bore it away.
Hallam was in his room, half dozing by the open window, ready to give him a friendly nod as he entered, threw down his riding-whip, and took up his usual position, with his back to the fireplace.
“Well,” said Hallam, “what news?”
“Oh, she has gone, sure enough.”
“So much the better,” said Hallam. “I always hated that woman.”
“What news have you?”
“None at all.”
“Have you told your wife that I wish the marriage to take place at once?”
“No.”
“Then go and tell her.”
Hallam shifted uneasily in his chair, but did not stir. “Look here!” cried Crellock fiercely, “do you want me to go through all our old arguments again? There it is—the marriage or the gang.”
“You would have to go too!” said Hallam angrily.
“Oh, no! Don’t make a mistake. I did not bring over the plunder; and not a single note you have changed can be brought home to me. Your leg is in the noose, or in the irons again, if you like it better. No nonsense! Go and see her while I prepare Julia.” Hallam rose, went to the cupboard, poured a quantity of brandy into a tumbler, gulped it down, and went to the drawing-room. Mrs Hallam, who was looking white and hollow of cheek, was seated alone, with Julia, half-way down the garden slope, gazing pensively towards the town.
Mrs Hallam rose quickly, as if in alarm, but Hallam caught her hand, and then softly closed the window, in spite of her weak struggle, as she saw Crellock crossing the garden to where Julia was standing.
“Now, no nonsense!” he said. “There, sit down.”
Mrs Hallam took the chair he led her to, and gazed up at him as if fascinated by his eyes.
“I may as well come to the point at once,” said Hallam. “You know what I said the other night about Crellock?”
“Yes,” she replied hoarsely.
“Well, he wishes it to take place at once, so we may as well get it over.”
“It is impossible!”
“It is not impossible!” he said, flashing into anger. “It is necessary for my comfort and position that the wedding should take place at once.”
“No, no, Robert!” she cried in a last appeal; “for the sake of our old love, give up this terrible thought. If you have any love left for me spare our child this degradation!”
She threw herself upon her knees and clasped his hands.
“Don’t be foolish and hysterical,” he said coldly; “and listen to reason, unless you want to make me angry with you. Get up!”
She obeyed him without a word.
“Now, listen. I shouldn’t have chosen Crellock for her husband, but he is very fond of her, and I cannot afford to offend him, so it must be.”
“It would kill her!” panted Mrs Hallam. “Our child! Robert—husband—my own love! don’t, don’t drive me to do this!”
“I’m going to drive you to obey me in this sensible matter, which is for the good of all. There, you see the girl is listening to him quietly enough.”
“It would kill her! For the sake of all the old times do not drive me to this—my husband!” pleaded Mrs Hallam again.
“You will prepare her for it; you will tell her it must be as soon as the arrangements can be made; you will stop all communications with Bayle and old Sir Gordon, and do exactly as I bid you. Look here, once let Julia see that there is no other course, and she will be quiet and sensible enough.”
“Once more!” cried Mrs Hallam passionately, “spare me this, Robert, and I will be your patient, forgiving wife to the end! I tell you it would break her heart!”
“You understand!” he said. “There, look at her!” he cried, pointing. “Why, the girl loves him after all.”
Julia was coming slowly up the path, with Crellock bending down and talking to her earnestly, till he reached the window, which Hallam unfastened, shrinking back and leaving the room, as if he could not face his child.
As Julia entered, Crellock seemed to have no wish to encounter Mrs Hallam, and he drew back and went round the house to the study window, where he stopped leaning on the verandah-rail and gazing in, as Hallam stood at the cupboard, pouring himself out some more brandy.
He had the glass in one hand, the bottle in the other, when he caught sight of the figure at the window, and with a start and cry of horror he dropped bottle and glass.
“Bah! where is your nerve, man?” cried Crellock with a laugh of contempt. “Did you think it was a sergeant with a file of men to fetch you away?”
“You—you startled me,” cried Hallam angrily. “All that brandy gone!”
“A good thing too! You’ve had plenty. Well, have you told her?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“The old thing.”
“But you made her understand?”
“Yes. What did Julia say?”
“Oh, very little. Told me she could never love me, of course; but she’s a clever, sensible girl.”
“And she has consented?”
“Well, not exactly; but it’s all right. There will be no trouble there.”
Meanwhile Julia had gone straight to her mother and knelt down at her feet, resting her hands upon her knees, in her old child-like position, and gazing up in the pale, wasted face for some minutes without speaking.
“There is no hope, mother,” she said at last; “it must be.”
Mrs Hallam sat without replying for some minutes; then, taking her child’s face between her thin hands she bent down and pressed her lips upon the white forehead.
“Julie,” she whispered, “I was wrong. I thought you loved Mr Eaton, and I believed that if you married him it would have cut this terrible knot.”
Julia smiled softly, and with her eyes half closed. There was a curious, rapt expression in her sweet face, as if she were dreaming of some impossible joy. Then, as if rousing herself to action, she gave her dark curls a shake, and said quietly:
“If I had loved Mr Eaton it would only have cut the knot as far as I was concerned. Mother, he would have broken my heart.”
“No, no; he loved you dearly.”
“But he would have taken me from you. No: I did not love him, but I liked him very much. But there, we must think and be strong, for there is no hope, dear mother, now. You are right. And you will be firm and strong?”
“Yes,” said Mrs Hallam, rising. “For your sake, my child—my child!”