CHAPTER XL.—MADGE’S MISSION.
The glow of happiness on Madge’s face seemed to brighten even the gloomy atmosphere outside. She had done something for Philip—something that would not only give him pleasure in the highest degree, but which he would regard as an important practical service. For she had no doubt that she would be able to convince Mr Beecham of the groundlessness of all his charges against Mr Hadleigh. Then the two men would meet; they would shake hands; all the errors and suspicions which had separated them would be cleared up, forgiven, and soon forgotten in the amity which would follow. How glad Philip would be. She was impatient to complete her good work.
Miss Hadleigh entered the room hurriedly.
‘Goodness gracious, dear, what charm have you used with papa that you have kept him so long with you? I never knew him stay so long with anybody before.’
‘The only charm used was that the subjects we had to talk about were of great interest to us both,’ Madge answered, smiling.
‘Oh, how nice.—They concerned Philip? What does he say?’
‘That we are not to pay attention to the rumours until we have definite information from Philip himself.’
‘Was that all?’ Miss Hadleigh was disappointed, and her expression of curiosity indicated that she was quite sure it was not all.
‘No,’ said Madge softly, wishful that her answer might have been more satisfactory to Miss Hadleigh.
The latter did not endeavour to conceal her surprise; but she did successfully conceal her feeling of pique that Madge should have been taken into the confidence of her father about matters of grave moment: she was sure they were so, for she had passed him on his way to the library. She had never been so honoured.
‘I suppose I must not ask you what the other subjects were, dear?’ she said, with one of her most gracious smiles. She meant: ‘You certainly ought to tell me.’
Madge was spared the necessity of making a reply; for Mr Hadleigh, instead of sending the promised packet, had brought it himself. When he appeared, his daughter was silent. That was generally the case; but on the present occasion the silence had an additional significance. She was struck by a peculiar change in his expression, his walk, and manner. As she afterwards told her betrothed, it quite took her breath away to see him coming into the room looking as mild as if there had never been a frown on his face. The dreamy, seeking look had vanished from his eyes, which were now fixed steadily on Madge.
‘I have brought you the memorandum, Miss Heathcote, and you are free to make what use of it you may think best.’
‘I hope to make good use of it,’ was her answer as she received a long blue envelope which was carefully sealed.
‘Of course you understand that you are at liberty to open this yourself, or in the presence of others whom you think the contents may affect.’
‘I shall first find one or two of the other letters,’ said Madge, after a moment’s reflection, ‘and then I shall place them with this packet, sealed as it is, in the hands of the gentleman it most concerns.’
‘I am satisfied. What I am most anxious about is that you yourself should be convinced. Do not forget that.’
‘I am already convinced.’ No one could doubt it who saw the bright confidence in her eyes.
‘That is all I desire; but of course it will be a pleasure to me if you succeed in convincing others. I have told them to have the carriage ready, as I thought you might be in a hurry to get home.’
‘Indeed I am; and thank you.’
Amazement as much as courtesy kept Miss Hadleigh mute until the leave-taking compelled her to utter the usual formalities. Mr Hadleigh saw Madge to the carriage, and there was a note of tenderness in his ‘Good-bye’—as if he were a father seeing his daughter start on a long journey from which she might never return.
What was the mysterious influence the girl exercised over this man? Under it he had been always different from what he appeared to be at other times; and under it he had consented to do that to which no one else, except Philip, had ever dreamt he could be persuaded.
‘I shall be glad when they are married,’ he repeated to himself as, when the carriage had disappeared, he walked slowly back to the library.
Aunt Hessy was somewhat startled when she saw the Ringsford carriage and Madge come out of it alone.
‘Is anything wrong at the Manor?’ she asked; but before she had finished the question she was reassured by the face of her niece.
‘No, aunt; but Mr Hadleigh thought I should have the carriage, as I was in a hurry. I have had a long talk with him. He has made me very happy, and has given me the power to make others happy.’
They were in the parlour now, and Aunt Hessy smiled at the excitement of the usually calm Madge.
‘Is it extra blankets and coals for the poor folk, or a Christmas feast for the children?’
‘No, no, aunt: it is something of very great importance to Philip and to me. Philip’s uncle has all these years believed that it was Mr Hadleigh who spread the false report about him; and that is why he will not agree to have anything to say to him. Now, Philip has set his heart upon making them friends, and I can do it!’
There was a brightness in the girl’s voice and manner which Aunt Hessy was glad to see after those days of pained thoughtful looks.
‘How are you to do that, child?’
‘By showing Philip’s uncle who the real traitor was. His name was Richard Towers, and Mr Hadleigh says you knew him.’
‘Richard Towers,’ echoed the dame gravely, and looking back to the troubled time calmly enough now. ‘We did know him, and we did not like him. He was one of the worst lads about the place, although come of decent people. He borrowed money from my father, and thought he could pay it back by wedding his daughter. He would not take “no” for an answer for a long time. But at last he came to see that there was no chance for him, and he spoke vile words. I do believe he was the kind of man that would take pleasure in such evil work.’
‘He did do it. I have the proof.’
‘The wonder is we never thought of it before,’ continued the dame thoughtfully; ‘but he has been gone away this many a year and is dead now. He went to California, and was shot in some drunken quarrel. Neighbour Hopkin’s lad, who was out there too, says he was lynched for robbing a comrade and trying to murder him. But these are not pleasant things to talk about. God forgive the poor man all his sins; although, if what thou ’rt saying be true, he brought sorrow enough to our door.’
That was the worst word the good woman had for the man. Then Madge, without betraying the confidence of Beecham, gave her a brief outline of her conversation with Mr Hadleigh. Aunt Hessy naturally concluded that it was Philip who had suggested that she should speak to his father, and asked no questions. With her mind full of wonder at the way in which the wicked are found out sooner or later, she went to the dairy whilst Madge wrote a hasty note to Mr Beecham. She asked simply what was the earliest hour at which she could see him.
She gave the note to young Jerry Mogridge with strict injunctions that he was to bring back an answer, no matter how long he might have to wait. Jerry promised faithful obedience, and privately hoped that he might have to wait a long time, for the taproom at the King’s Head was a pleasant place in which to spend a few hours.
Then Madge went to the garret, which had been a storehouse of wonders to her in childhood, for there the lumber of several generations was stowed. It was a large place, occupying nearly the whole length and breadth of the house, with a small window at each end, and one skylight. She knew exactly where to find the oaken box she wanted, for she herself had pushed it away under the sloping roof near one of the windows. It was not a large box, and she had no difficulty in dragging it forward, so that she had the full benefit of the light. She had the key ready; but as it had not been used for years, she found it was not easy to get it to act. At length she succeeded, and raising the lid, disclosed a mass of old letters neatly tied in bundles, and old account-books ranged in order beside them.
The letters were not only neatly tied but duly docketed, so that, as Madge rapidly took out bundle after bundle, she had only to lift the tops to see from whom they had come and when. The light was failing her fast, and Aunt Hessy would on no account permit a lighted lamp or candle to be brought into the garret. She strained her eyes, and endeavoured to quicken her search. At length she found two letters, both dated in the same year—the year of her mother’s marriage—and bearing the name Richard Towers. With a breath of satisfaction she drew them out from the bundle. What their contents might be did not matter: all she wanted was to secure fair specimens of the man’s handwriting.
After relocking the box and thrusting it back into its place, she descended to the oak parlour. The lamp was on the table, and she lit it at once. Her first impulse was to open those letters and read them. But that would be to no purpose, as it was not in her power to compare the writing with the memorandum in the blue envelope she had received from Mr Hadleigh. Of course she was at perfect liberty to open that too, and it was natural that she should feel an inclination to do so. This feeling, however, was brief. She had decided to deliver the undoubted letters of Richard Towers and the packet with its seals unbroken. So she secured them all in one cover, which she addressed to Austin Shield. It was not to pass from her own hand except into that of the person for whom it was intended.
She had not recovered from the sense of hurry in which she had been acting, when young Jerry returned, and after fumbling in his pockets, produced a note.
‘You saw Mr Beecham, then?’ she said gladly.
‘Didn’t see him at all, missy; and I thought maybe as I’d better bring that back.’ The note he gave her was her own.
‘But I told you to wait.’
‘Weren’t no sort ov use, missy. Gentleman’s gone away bag and baggage; and they say at the King’s Head he ain’t a-coming back no more.’
‘Did he leave no address?’
‘No what, missy?’
‘The name of any place where letters could be sent to him.’
‘O yes. I saw father: he drove him to the station, and the gentleman’s gone to London.’
This was all the information young Jerry had been able to obtain, and he regarded it as quite satisfactory. To Madge, it was disappointing; but only in so far that it delayed the completion of her mission for a few days. It was certainly strange that Mr Beecham should take his departure so suddenly without leaving any message for her; but she had no doubt that the post would bring her one.
So, now, she settled herself down to wait for Philip, and to make him glad when he came, with her news that his father had given his consent to the reconciliation.
But Philip did not visit Willowmere that night.