"And Frank Churchill, Esq.--oh, how your grasp tightens on my hand! Frank Churchill, Esq., Statesman newspaper-office--in the City somewhere--they'll find it. What is the matter, dear? You heard me?"
"Yes," said Barbara faintly; "they shall be sent for at once."
"At last," said she to herself when she had regained her own room, after despatching the messenger--"at last I shall be enabled to fathom this horrible mystery, and to show those who have doubted, that I was not wrong, after all, in taking the decisive step which I did. If this wretched creature prove to be--as I suppose she will--Frank's correspondent both at Bissett and at home; if--and yet Mr. Slade said he believed her to be a perfectly correct and proper person, else he would not have permitted her to be received here. Mr. Slade's belief--what is that worth? Is it possible that--no! Here is a woman, poor creature, believing herself to be on her deathbed, and sending for my husband,--a woman of whose existence I have never heard, who is obviously not a person of society, and yet who--great Heavens, if it be proved!--if the worst that I have dared to imagine be proved! And yet lately I have felt that that is impossible, in thinking over Frank's character and ways of life, in thinking over all he has said of dishonour and deception, I have felt certain that--and yet here is this woman sending for him not to his private house,--'Statesman office, somewhere in the City--they'll find it.' Statesman Office! That's where the first letter was addressed, and redirected to Bissett; and the second letter,--the envelope, I mean,--now I think of it, was sent to the same place. It must be the same. And yet how sweet, and patient, and resigned she is! how quiet and calm, and--Frank Churchill, Esq.--no mistake in both the names! Who is the other man, I wonder? Frank Churchill! what an extraordinary fate has planned this for us! I'll see their interview, and hear all that she has to say; and then if--of course it can't be otherwise--what other solution can there be? If Frank has intrigued with this--and she going to die too; lying there at the point of death, and looking up into my face with so much gratitude and affection--oh, Heaven direct me! I'm at my wits'-end!" and Barbara threw herself on her bed and wept bitterly.
The short dim twilight had faded into dusk before the cab containing the messenger and the two gentlemen whom he had been sent to fetch arrived at the house. They were ushered at once into the dining-room, where they were received by Pilkington the butler, who produced refreshment. That being declined, they were shown into the library. In the middle of the room stood the bed in deep shadow; across the far end of the room stood a large folding screen, almost hidden by which was a woman with her back to them, bending over a table and apparently engaged in compounding some medicine or drink. A shaded lamp placed on a table between the bed and the screen shed a dim light throughout the room. As the door opened, Mr. Simnel entered first, with a faltering step, strode swiftly to the bedside, and then dropped on to his knees, burying his face in his hands. Kate moved her arm with great difficulty until her hand rested on his head, and then she said, half trustingly, half reproachfully, "Robert!" There was no spoken reply, but the man's big strong frame heaved up and down convulsively, and the tears came rushing thick as rain through his closed fingers.
"Robert, my poor fellow! you must not give way so; you'll break me down. I hadn't a notion you--and yet how faithfully you've served! I saw it, Robert; I knew it long ago, when--ah, well, all over now; all over now, Robert, eh?--What, Guardy, you here too! That's well. Ah, I feel so much more composed now I see your dear solemn old face. You came at once."
"Came at once, my poor child--my poor dear child--" and Churchill's voice failed him and he stopped.
"Now, Guardy, come! You won't have much more trouble with your bothering charge, and you must be steady now. It gives me fresh courage, I declare, to hear your solemn voice and to know that you're at my very side for all sorts of serious advice.--Now, Robert, you know that I'm in a bad way; that I'm going to--no, no, be a man, Robert; you'll upset me, if you give way so,--Guardy, this gentleman, Mr. Simnel, has been very, very kind to me for a long, long time. He wanted to marry me, Guardy; and wanted me to have a proper place as his wife, and so he's been hunting up all about my friends and my birth and that, and he's found out a lot. But he doesn't know about you, Guardy; and as I wanted to tell him about that, and to settle one other thing, I sent for you both to-night. The--the medicine!--ask nurse--I'm a little faint!"
Both men rose; but Simnel was nearest, and it was into his hand that the woman behind the screen placed the glass. When Kate had swallowed the cordial, she said, in firmer tones:
"I told you, Robert, that when I left old Fox's circus I was fetched away by two gentlemen, an old fellow and another. This is the other. When we got to the hotel that night, the old man said to me, 'Never you mind who I am, my lass; you won't see me any more after I've once started you in town; but you will see this gentleman, and you'll have to send to him whenever you want advice or any thing else. He's your guardian,' he said, 'and he'll look after you.' I recollect I laughed, and said he looked very young, and giggled out some girl's nonsense; but he--I can see you now, Guardy!--put his hand on my head and told me he was much older than I, and that he'd had plenty of experience to teach him the ways of the world. I've never seen the old man since; but, oh, how often I've sent for Guardy! I've worried him day and night, written to him whenever I wanted to know any thing: how to treat swells who wouldn't pay, or who were getting troublesome in other ways; when I wanted the landlord seen, or fresh land bought; when--good Lord! when I lost heart over--something--and thought of giving the place up, and selling off and going away, he's kept me as straight as a die; he's never shown the least ill-temper with all my worryings and fidgettings; he's always shown me what to do for the best--and has been my kindest and least selfish and best friend."
"You say too much, Kate," said Churchill; "any thing I have done you have repaid long since by your good sense and docility."