D’Almayne spoke at random, but the arrow wounded as deeply as even his disappointed malevolence could have desired. With every vestige of colour banished from her pale cheek, Kate sank back upon her chair, and drawing her breath with difficulty, placed her hand upon her side, as if in pain. Heedless of her suffering—nay, rather rejoicing in it—the evil expression came across D’Almayne’s face as, in a tone of sarcastic triumph, he exclaimed—
“You love him! I was certain of it, and am fully avenged. Chained by your marriage vow to a decrepid imbecile, while you love another with all the depth and fire of your passionate nature, you will experience the torments of the damned. To the remorse and despair these reflections will engender,—a despair so desolating that you will live to regret even your decision of this morning,—I leave you. When your husband returns to-night, a ruined man, remember my words—the curse that you have brought upon yourself will have begun to work!”
Unable to reply, Kate remained leaning back, her eyes fixed upon him with a kind of horrible fascination. Leisurely drawing on his gloves, he appeared to be feasting his gaze with the misery he had created; then, casting on her a look of sardonic malevolence that a fiend might have emulated, but could scarcely have surpassed, he turned and quitted the apartment, and immediately afterwards the house.
Kate’s reflections after D’Almayne had left her may easily be imagined; all feelings of resentment against the man who had insulted her were merged in the one thought that her cousin, Arthur Hazlehurst, had been her brother’s unknown benefactor When she had imagined him implacably offended at the unjustifiable manner in which, during their last interview, she had treated him, he was still watching over her interests, and with a chivalrous devotion to the remembrance of their former attachment (for such could be the only kindly sentiment he could now cherish towards her), he had come forward and saved her brother from the ruin which had appeared inevitable. She had received a note that morning from Frederick, informing her of his return from the Continent, and stating his intention of paying her a visit immediately, adding that he had obtained his benefactor’s sanction to tell her to whom he was indebted for his present good fortune, and all other particulars she might wish to learn. While thus engaged, a knock at the door announced a visitor, and in another moment her brother’s arms were thrown around her. Six months’ foreign travel, and daily association with persons mixing in good society, had produced a great change in Fred Marsden’s appearance: the handsome boy had become a fine manly young fellow, whose frank address and courteous manners were certain to ensure him a kindly welcome, and greatly increase his chances of success in life. Fred had much to tell, and found an eager listener in Kate. Arthur was the best, kindest, wisest, most generous of men; Arthur had sent him abroad more to finish his education than for any use he could be of in a business point of view; Arthur was most liberal to him in money-matters; and yet superior as he was in everything—talent, age, position—Arthur treated him like an equal, nay, like a brother.
While he thus ran on, a cab drove up to the door, and shortly after Mr. Crane entered the apartment; he appeared to walk feebly, and once staggered, and nearly fell in crossing the room. Glancing angrily towards Fred, he muttered, “Send that boy away, Mrs. Crane—I—I wish to speak with you on matters of importance.”
Hastily dismissing her brother—promising to write him word when to come again—Kate returned to her husband. “You look ill and worried,” she said; “let me fetch you a glass of wine and a biscuit.”
“Ill and worried indeed! I tell you, Mrs. Crane, I have this day received my death-blow. Don’t reply, madam; don’t mock me with any pretence of affection—I know its worth. You married me for my money—I am not so blind as you may imagine—yes! you married me for my money; and now you are rightly served, for I am a ruined man. You may well stare and look surprised, for I can scarcely believe it myself. Oh, it is too cruel—horrible, to think that I, Jedediah Crane, whose name has been good for five hundred thousand pounds any day, should die a beggar!” Here he paused, and broke into a fit of childish weeping; after a time he again resumed angrily, “And for this, madam, I have chiefly to thank your precious admirer, Horace D’Almayne; my money was safe enough till he led me on to speculate; and I believe your arts and allurements were the chief cause that attracted him here. But your wickedness has brought its own punishment, for you must work for your living now—you, and all your pauper family, whom you have supported out of my pocket: and as for D’Almayne, may the bitterest curses light upon him—may———” Here, suddenly breaking off, he stared round him wildly, raised his hand to his forehead, murmured, “Oh, my head!” and sank back in his chair. Greatly alarmed, Kate rang the bell violently, and whilst the butler and another servant conveyed Mr. Crane to his room, she dispatched a third in search of medical assistance. That evening Arthur Hazlehurst received the following note:
“In the unpardonable pride which has been my besetting sin through life, but to which, if suffering can eradicate faults, I ought never again to yield, I requested you not to enter my house until I sent for you; deeming, when I said it, that I was pronouncing a sentence of banishment which would continue in effect as long as we should both survive. Having placed this bar between myself and the generous friendship you have always evinced for me, I dare not now ask your assistance—but if in the great strait in which I am placed you would advise me to whom I ought to apply, you will be rendering me a kindness I have little deserved at your hands. Mr. Crane returned home this evening greatly excited, and declared that he was a ruined man; while still raving almost incoherently on the subject, he was attacked with paralysis, and now lies in a state which the two physicians I have called in inform me is in the highest degree critical. He has recovered his consciousness, but his speech is so much affected that I can only collect that his mind is still troubled by business details. I am not aware of the name of his legal adviser, nor, indeed, certain whether he was in the habit of consulting one. I await your reply with much anxiety.
“Kate Crane.”
Within a quarter of an hour after he received this note Arthur Hazlehurst was in Park Lane.